“I’m just saying, it’s worth exploring, getting some closure, if nothing else.”
Closure. Whether Trey felt anything or not, she certainly felt something—not the least of which was a bone-deep guilt at how she’d treated him back then. Maybe Adele was right. Maybe she needed to clear the air with him. He had a right to know why she hadn’t come. So, she’d tell him the truth and relieve herself of that burden, once and for all. And that would be the end of things between them. Again.
Chapter 3
“Mayor Crawford is here to see you, sir.”
Trey absorbed the quick jolt of nerves and pleasure, grateful Louis couldn’t see him through the intercom. Slow down, idiot. She hasn’t come for you. This is about the wedding. But she had come instead of just calling or doing something else to re-establish distance between them. He rolled his shoulders and smoothed down his tie. “Send her in.”
His door opened. Sandy strode in, offering a quick, careless smile to Louis—the kind of smile she’d once aimed at him.
Trey tamped down the flicker of jealousy and rose to greet her. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“You want some coffee?” The last thing he needed was more caffeine jittering through his system, but he needed something to do with his hands.
“Sure.”
Louis started toward the sideboard, where a coffee service was always set up, but Trey waved him away. “I’ll get it.”
His executive assistant threw a startled glance in his direction. Trey did not serve people. “Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“Not at the moment. Thanks, Louis.”
Then they were alone, Sandy standing in the middle of his penthouse office. Trey wondered what she saw. He poured the coffee, reaching automatically to add one cream, two sugars to hers before realizing he should’ve asked if that was still how she drank it. He turned to do exactly that and found her staring.
“You have a very good memory.”
“We drank a lot of coffee back in college.” Endless conversations over warm mugs, in cracked vinyl booths. “Please, have a seat.”
She chose an end of the leather sofa. Better than a chair by his desk. Not as good as the middle of the couch.
Reminding himself that this wasn’t a date, and he was a grown-ass man who wasn’t going to pursue her, he crossed over and handed her the coffee before taking the chair adjacent to her.
“I wanted to bring by the list of everything that’s been bought, reserved, or otherwise planned.”
“You got all that together since last night?”
She pulled a thick binder out of her briefcase and handed it over. “Please. It’s Norah. She has a subdivided, color-coded copy of everything for everyone involved.”
He laughed. “She does love her organization. My daughter does, too. It’s part of why I’m so fond of Norah. She reminds me of Tess.”
“I didn’t realize you had children.”
“Just the one. Tess is twenty-six and a total ball-buster, which I hated when she was a teenager, but I admit I kind of love now that she’s grown.” He waited for the follow-up question about his wife, but it didn’t come. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she really was here just about the wedding. He’d given her no indication that this was anything more. And damn it, it wasn’t.
Calling himself an idiot, he flipped open the binder.
Sandy pointed to the first page. “She’s got her dress and has already had her final fitting. The bridesmaid dresses are in. The flowers are ordered, and she’s deferring to her mother on the cake, as apparently Margaret didn’t get to eat any of her own wedding cake, other than the bite for the pictures.”
Trey glanced up. “I suppose Joseph was too consumed with working the reception.” Norah’s father had always been more concerned with appearances than taking care of the people around him.
“Something like that.” She angled her head to study him. “You never did like Joseph.”
“No.” He had no respect for a man who didn’t take action when it was called for. Thirty years ago, Joseph Burke had done nothing to control the rowdy freshman pledge under his control, and Sandy had paid the price.
Water under the bridge.