“You haven’t got your glasses on.”
I turn to Everett’s assertion. “Ten points for observation.” Realising that sounded a little snarky, I add, “The frame aggravated the bruise, but I can still see you, so no pulling faces.”
“Yeah, Uncle Rhett, nobody likes a juice bag.”
I give a tiny shake of my head. “Lulu has brought some delightful gems home from school lately.”
“Took some delightful gems to school too, so I hear.” Remy’s gaze dances over the rim of his wine glass. “Gems like rings.”
“I can’t believe you told him that,” I mutter, pressing my head to my hands.
“I’m so sorry,” Rose splutters, her hands actually clutch her stomach as she begins to laugh. “How could I keep that one to myself?”
“What are they laughing at, Mommy?” Lulu tugs unhappily on my sleeve, her displeasure clear. No one enjoys the sense they’re being laughed at.
“Just grown-up things,” I reassure her. Which is partly true. Any conversation that includes the words ‘cock ring’ or euphemistic variants thereof, aren’t meant for little ears.
“I have some questions about that.” Rose holds up her hand like a kid eager to ask a question in class. “But maybe I’m asking the wrong person.” Her eyes slide behind me and just like that, I know Carson is here.
37
Carson
At first, I’d considered Rose was calling to rip me a new one. I hadn’t spoken to her for a while, and at the back of mind was the consideration that Fee might need someone to talk to. A shoulder to cry on that wasn’t mine. It quickly became clear that wasn’t the purpose of her call and I found myself oddly offended. I didn’t want her to hurt, yet I’d have welcomed some sign that I wasn’t alone in my misery. So I thought about not coming tonight. About making some bullshit excuse when Rose invited me. But I was kidding myself, considering my evening run still brings me past her apartment some evenings. Considering I’m still making Ed Martinez uncomfortable in my quest to keep her safe.
So, no. I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to spend some time in her company, no matter how painful it might turn out to be. Maybe what I have is a sickness but it’s a sickness I can do nothing but endure. A suffering I’ll undertake to see her again.
Tension tightens my shoulders as I enter the restaurant, pausing before being directed to the Durrand table. Before I’m more than a few steps in, I find I have a limpet called Lulu clinging to my leg.
“Uncle Carson!”
“Hey, princess.” I boost her up into my arms and just stare a little at her effusive delight. “You’ve grown,” I accuse, narrowing my eyes before pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek. God, I’ve missed this kid. And I fucking love her. Maybe because she’s an extension of the woman I love, or maybe it’s the kind of love that’s grown independent of her. I don’t pretend to understand how or why, I just know I do.
“Of course I’ve growed. Your business trip has been very, very long.”
“Business trip?” So that’s what Fee told her, I think wearily. Seems like a copout but I guess it’s not my choice to make.
Not anymore. Not ever.
But a business trip isn’t a permanent thing. Maybe—
Fuck it. I take a fortifying breath, preparing myself to look at her, preparing myself to see her again. Tonight will be tough. I’ve already resigned myself to that. Pretending to be on politely friendly terms with the woman I love. A woman who wants no part of me. But then I find that might not be strictly true as I deposit Lulu to her seat next to Fee’s, our eyes meeting over the top of her head.
The connection is . . . fuck. Indescribable.
My throat closes over all the things I want to say as I press my hand to the back of her chair, brushing my lips against her cheek. Once, twice, as French custom dictates, regardless of the fact we’re neither French nor in France. I thought I could do cool, affect friendly, but I’m suddenly swallowed by greed to touch her. My thumb sweep across her back, touching the skin available to me, finding comfort in her reaction. The rise of her breast. A held breath, a half gasp. Midnight in her eyes as I pull back.
“Fiadh.” Her name is silk on my tongue. You look beautiful, I don’t say.
Come back to me.
I straighten sensing the silence around the table, and when I turn, quizzical faces stare back at me.
“Rose.” I struggle to master my smile, partly because I’m happy to see her, partly because I’m just so fucking relieved. Clasping my hands to her shoulders, I press my cheek to hers in the more appropriate rendition of a French greeting. Air kisses, once, twice. Pull back.