He did something, he did something very special for me . . . and for Wade—and to know that he has Harry’s back when I didn’t cuts my heart wide open.
I’ve just realized that he has a specialized skill that, no matter what, I couldn’t give my boys.
Perspective.
This is what they’ve been craving. This is what they’ve been missing in their lives.
No wonder I was struggling so hard with them. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
Harry didn’t mention going to the cemetery, and I haven’t brought up anything about the weekend. I’m acting normal because I’m not sure what to say. Whatever he and Tristan have talked about, he wants to keep to himself. If he wanted me to know, he would have told me.
The Aston Martin pulls up in the driveway. “Tristan’s here!” Patrick yells as he runs for the front door.
Fletcher caught the subway home. I’m not actually sure where Tris has been since then. I watch through the window as Patrick opens Tristan’s car door and talks a million miles per minute. Tristan listens and laughs. He’s so patient with him. He passes him his laptop bag, and Patrick proudly carries it in. Fletcher goes to the door to greet him, and Harry stays sitting on the couch.
“Hello,” Tristan says as he walks into the living room. His eyes find Harry across the room, and he gives him a nod.
Harry gives him a lopsided smile, and my heart soars.
It’s going to be okay . . . it’s all going to be okay.
“Hello, Anderson,” he purrs in his oh-so-sexy deep voice.
I take him into my arms. “Hello, Mr. Miles.” I lean up and kiss him softly, and he frowns, surprised I’m kissing him in front of the boys.
“Where have you been?” I ask.
“I had a meeting this afternoon and . . .” He hesitates as he thinks of a lie. “I had a busy afternoon.”
“Oh.” I smile up at my gorgeous liar. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”
“Good.” He kisses me softly again. “I’m starving.”
Chapter 22
Tristan
I stand in the elevator and turn up my nose.
What is that smell?
I got up and left early, trained with my personal trainer, and got dressed in the bathroom at the gym. I look around at my surroundings. This elevator stinks. What the fuck cleaning products are they using?
The doors open, and I stride out. “Morning,” I say to the girls at reception.
“Morning,” they all reply.
I can still smell it. Ugh, it’s horrendous. Must have permeated my nostrils.
It’s foul.
What the heck is it?
I walk into my office and begin to sniff around. Is it the carpet? I push the intercom. “Sammia, what is that godawful fucking smell?”
“What?”
“Can you smell something?”