12
Barrett
Jesus, fuck, I was more nervous than a politician at a rally.
Knowing Alfred and Elizabeth for years did little to curtail the bubble of sweat forming on my brow. I had lost count of how many weekly dinners I'd had here. In the early days when Connor wanted to know about my family—and I divulged that they died in a car accident and my only sister lived in Boston—he’d opened his home to me. The invitation had remained when he’d moved out of the family home and into his own.
If they knew my past involved such a newsworthy headline, one that could risk the Diamond name, I doubt we would be associated in any way.
“Hello, Lourde, Mr. Black, what a surprise to see you today.” Dressed in perfect black and whites, Gretchen, their longtime housemaid, greeted us as we stepped out of the elevator. It only took a second for her to notice my hand wrapped around Lourde’s.
“Hi, Gretchen,” we both said at the same time, followed by a giggle from Lourde.
The edges of Gretchen's mouth turned upward. Clearing her throat, she signaled us inside. “Mr. and Mrs. Diamond are in the dining room.”
“Thank you, Gretchen,” I said, leading the way like I had so many times before. But this was different, very different.
Lourde squeezed my hand as we walked into the penthouse foyer, past the living room, and stopped just before the dining room doors.
She turned to me, panic flaring in her hazel eyes. “My stomach is in my throat.”
Tilting her chin up and grazing her lips with a quick kiss, my fingers lingered along her jaw. “I’ve got you, dollface.”
Nerves bounced around in the pit of my stomach, and it was a strange sensation to be faced with. Million-dollar deals were nothing compared to this. Uncommon and definitely not what I expected, the nerves ping-ponged like they had some kind of control over me. I stared into Lourde’s eyes, and the nerves pushed into the crevices of my stomach so I could focus on only her.
She lifted her hand to mine. “I’ve never been happier than when I’m you, Barrett.”
I kissed her forehead and breathed in her heavenly calming scent.
Perhaps I wasn’t such a monster after all. The way she looked at me through innocent eyes made me think marriage, kids, a puppy, and a white picket fence were possible with Lourde by my side.
Marriage? I just imagined that, didn't I? Fuck me.
If she believed in me, then why couldn’t I be the man she needed me to be, not just for a minute but a lifetime?
I opened the double sliding doors. Elizabeth sat at one end of the dining table scrolling on her phone and Alfred at the end closest to us, reading the paper.
Elizabeth glanced across the large marble table at Lourde, then me. “Barrett?” she questioned before rising to stand. Her gaze fell to our intertwined hands, blinking a few times, her brows creased into a line. “Right. Oh… okay.”
“Elizabeth. Alfred.” We both walked inside as Alfred turned.
I watched as Lourde left my grasp and kissed her father first, then her mother on the cheek. Then I followed behind her, greeting Elizabeth with a kiss on the cheek as well.
She tilted her head, examining her daughter's choice in men—not her own—in a lingering gaze she hadn’t leveled at me before today. She took her hands to her temples, massaging them in round circles. Over the years, I noticed she did that when she was uncomfortable. Well, that made two of us.
Slightly uncomfortable, I turned to Alfred and shook his extended hand. “Nice to see you, Barrett, although I had a feeling you might be joining us today.”
“Likewise, Alfred.”
His grip was tighter than usual, his stare clear as a summer's day—take care of my daughter, Barrett—his handshake conveyed, and I shook it firmly with my response—Lourde is the world to me, I fucking love her. I’d die for your daughter.
He blinked, and at that moment, there was a gentleman’s understanding.
“So, let’s sit, shall we? Looks like we have much to discuss.” Alfred signaled for us to sit at the two seats beside him, and I pulled the chair out for Lourde.
So far, so good. I cast my gaze toward Lourde, checking in to see if she was okay.
“Mom, I love your hair. Did you do something different?”
Okay, so she was still slightly on edge and trying to butter up her mother, knowing flattering her always worked like a charm.
“Yes, Francesco decided a change was needed with the ball coming up, so he cut it and baylaged it.”
I put my hand on hers at the table in a reassuring gesture, and her mother’s gaze fell to our hands.
“So I’m very surprised,” Elizabeth said, taking her seat at the end of the table.
“I know, Mom.”
“How long have you two been together?” she asked.
Lourde turned to me. “We started seeing each other in the Hamptons.” I decided to keep it vague.
“When she was staying with you, Barrett?”
“Yes, after she found Hunter cheating.”
“Never liked that jerk, Hunter,” Alfred said.
“He came from a family of—”