Rising, she comes around her desk and wraps me in one of her trademark soft hugs. I’m realizing more and more that everything—and everyone—she touches, she treats as though it’s fragile, the only one of its kind.
My hands cinch her waist. I pull her into me and steal a kiss. “You coming over tonight?”
She fights a smile. “How are you not sick of me yet? We spent the entire weekend together …”
“I’ve been asking myself that exact question all day,” I say. “But the offer stands.”
“I’ll be there.” She kisses me, quick, and steps away as a bell chimes over the speakers. “My kids are coming back from recess. Thanks for the gift. I’ll see you tonight.”
I return to my waiting car and tell George to take me home.
Thirty-Three
Astaire
* * *
“Excuse me …”
I’m at the grocery store Monday evening, grabbing a few things for dinner before heading to Bennett’s, when there’s a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I try not to choke on the sharp inhalation that overtakes me when I realize I’m face to face with Bennett’s brother, Errol.
There’s a woman beside him. Tall and lean, angled features, glossy chestnut hair, nude lips, a fringe of thick, coal-black lashes. Chic in every sense of the word.
“You’re Bennett’s friend, aren’t you?” he asks. “I believe we met the other night.”
I grip my shopping basket tight, with both hands.
“I’m Errol, Bennett’s brother.” He extends a slender hand. I meet it with my own, but only out of politeness. “This is my wife, Beth.”
I don’t know much about Errol, and if I were to see him on the street, I’d chalk him up to be a regular guy. Hipster vibes. Well-traveled. Beth could be an Instagram influencer with her healthy figure and naturally agreeable features. But Bennett’s words play in the back of my mind … he specifically said he didn’t want Honor going to his mother or brother under any circumstances.
“And you are?” Errol asks.
“Astaire.” I offer my name only because I’m completely caught off guard, cornered in the back of the produce section. “It was nice seeing you again.”
I try to leave, but they’re essentially blocking me in.
“Are you two dating?” Beth asks.
“I … beg your … pardon?” I trip over my words. Not only did her question come out of the left field, but I wouldn’t know how to answer that if I tried. We’ve gone on a couple of dates. We’ve been hanging out a bit. But we haven’t talked about labels or exclusivity yet.
“Errol said he saw you leaving Bennett’s place the other night with his bag,” she says with a casual shrug. “I just assumed.”
“You’re always assuming, aren’t you, babe?” Errol chuckles, one hand dipped in his tight jeans pocket.
“Errol and I recently moved back to Worthington Heights,” Beth says. “We’re taking a break from our travels and starting a family … would be great if the four of us could have dinner sometime? It’s been forever since Bennett had a girlfriend, and it’s never any fun being the third wheel …”
She slips her arm into her husband’s and gives him a wrinkle-nosed smile.
“Beth,” Errol says. “You’re putting the poor woman on the spot.”
Beth places her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry. I do that. I get way ahead of myself. I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. I just … we don’t get to spend much time with Bennett these days, and it’d be nice to have an excuse to catch up.”
Errol leans closer to his wife.
“Let it go.” His eyes drag the length of me, his stare pointed and judge-y. “For all we know, they’re just … casual.”
I can read between the lines.
He thinks I’m Bennett’s booty call.
“I’m sorry. I should get going.” I clear my throat and step toward them, so close they have no other choice but to move out of the way, and I waste no time finding the next available checkout lane.
There’s something strange about those two.
Five minutes later, I’m loading two sacks of groceries into my backseat, checking over my shoulder to ensure they’re not about to corner me in the parking lot, but they’re nowhere to be seen.
Exhaling, I slide into my car, lock the doors, and head to Bennett’s, checking my rearview far too many times along the way.
“You’ll never guess who I just ran into.” I unload the groceries, lining up the produce next to Bennett’s sink.
He lifts a brow and shrugs. “Who?”
“Your brother and his wife.”
Bennett frowns. “Where?”
“At the grocery store … they cornered me by the heirloom tomatoes. It was the weirdest thing. Errol introduced them and then Beth started in about the four of us doing some double date and then your brother told her to let it go and then looked at me like I’m some side piece of yours and—”
“Please tell me you told them no.”
I rinse a tomato and pat it dry with a nearby towel. “Of course. Just odd that I’d run into him a second time in a week, you know? What are the odds.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “I know they just moved back to Worthington Heights, but yeah. It’s definitely strange.”
“Is he … following me?” I rinse a green pepper next. “You talk about him like he’s this villainous monster … and the way he looks at me …”
Bennett makes his way around the marble island, coming up behind me and slipping his arms around my stomach. Pressing his mouth against the side of my neck, he kisses me. And then he says, “I’ll deal with him.”
While his promise is reassuring, it’s also disconcerting that he didn’t exactly deny that his brother could be following me.
“I’d like to know, though,” I say. “Is he dangerous?”
“I told you, Astaire.” He kisses my neck once more. “I’ll deal with him.”
A moment later, he unpacks the second bag of groceries, and I retrieve a paring knife from the cutlery drawer. Honor comes this weekend, and we’ve only a few more nights like this … alone … and I want to enjoy every last minute of them.
I’m going to miss our solo time together, but I’m certain if we focus on the positive, all the excitement and goodness happening in our midst, things can only get better from here.
How could they not?
Thirty-Four
Bennett
* * *
I’m halfway out the door Tuesday when I get a text from my investigator: CHECK YOUR EMAIL. ASAP.
A quick glance at my watch tells me I’m on the verge of running late. Astaire asked me to meet her at this old theatre she volunteers at. She wanted to give me a private tour because it’s one of her favorite places in the world—her sanctuary, as she called it.
She told me not to get my hopes up, that it isn’t anything fancy, but what it lacked in showmanship, it more than made up for with its rich history.