“Deal?” he asked.
“Deal,” I whispered.
His smile was a mixture of happiness and sin as he pushed himself inside me.
We went out to dinner, avoiding the rest of the Hale family we were sharing the enormous house with, and afterward, we met up with Tate and the rest of the people who floated in Royce’s social circle at an outdoor bar. There was snow on the ground, but heaters attached to open patio umbrellas rained down warmth, along with the stone firepits blazing in the center of the groupings of chairs and couches. It was warm enough, most people had their coats off or at least unbuttoned.
String lights draped from umbrella to umbrella, a connected web that gave the space a magical feel.
Vance sat on one of the couches, Jillian Lambert curled up under his arm. I could tell her affection for him was genuine, but I had no idea if it were true for him. Like his older brother, Vance was a great liar. His father had proclaimed he date Lambert’s daughter, and it was unclear if he had any feelings and was simply following orders.
And his thoughts on Alice were even murkier.
Had he cared for her as a lover? Or was she just a way for him to stick it to his father? Perhaps he was like Royce and believed he was incapable of caring about anything, unless he wanted to risk Macalister taking it away.
“How’s law school?” I asked him as I sat down in the chair closest to the fire.
His gaze darted away from mine. I hadn’t seen him in at least two weeks. Was it possible he’d been avoiding me?
He said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear it over the conversations and laughter happening around us at the bar. “It’s . . . hard.” He drained the beer he was drinking and pasted on a smile, nudging Jillian. “Hey, mind getting us another round?”
She sat up and gave him the evil eye, probably about to tell him she wasn’t his servant—
“It took us fucking forever to get drinks when I ordered them. Royce and Tate are still waiting. The bartenders are only serving the hot girls tonight. It’ll take you, like, two seconds.”
Mollified, Jillian stood and collected their empty drinks.
She was barely gone before he straightened, leaning in to speak in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry.”
I froze. “For?”
“I dunno. A lot of things. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else that night.” His eyebrows pulled together and his forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t think Alice would care if I hooked up with Jillian. I mean, she didn’t just sign off on it with my dad, she’d practically told me to do it.” He sighed and ran a hand through his already unruly brown hair. “I would’ve sworn she didn’t give two shits about me, and, well—I decided that night I was going to find out.”
Meaning he’d wanted to get caught, just to see her reaction. My voice was dead. “What a terrific plan you came up with.”
“Yeah, I know.” He scrubbed the hand down the side of his face. “So, I’m sorry. I had no idea she was going to lose it like that.”
“You and me both.”
The sincere guilt he felt made me uncomfortable. Had he been callous with Alice’s feelings? Absolutely. But they were both adults, one of them married, and I didn’t blame him.
“Hey,” I said softly, “you didn’t make her do what she did.” I glanced around to confirm no one was listening. “She made that choice on her own.”
“I didn’t help the situation.”
“No,” I agreed. “But afterward you did. Royce told me you went to my parents’ house. You’ve been so busy I never got a chance to thank you.”
“Well, don’t.” He gave a tight smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I got to see your sister, who—by the way—is still hot, even when she’s pregnant as fuck.”
“Aw,” I said, overly sweet, “you’re gross.”
“What are we talking about?” Tate asked, lowering into a chair across from me. Royce appeared beside him, carrying both of our drinks.
“How hot Marist’s sister is,” Vance announced.
Tate’s head bobbed in agreement then swiveled to glance around. “Where is she?”
I took the glass of wine from Royce as he sat beside me. “Emily couldn’t make the trip. She’s on bed rest.”
Macalister had invited my family to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night, which meant they had to come, but my sister’s doctor didn’t want her to travel. Royce had installed staff at the house over the weekend, so she’d have round-the-clock care while my parents were away. I was worried she’d be lonely, but she assured me she was fine.
Tate looked confused. “Bed rest?”
He lived in New York these days, so he wasn’t up to speed on his Cape Hill gossip. “She’s eight months pregnant.”
“No shit. Really?” When I nodded, he asked, “Who’s the dad?”