Page 34 of Clipped Wings

The steakhouse in Midtown was black tie only, but I had slipped the manager a wad of cash and he had let us through. I’d thrown on a fresh pair of jeans and Emma was back in the flowing white sundress that crested her knees. She’d switched her heels for sneakers, thank fuck, and was looking more and more like my innocent little dove.

It was past nine, but Emma’s family was still there. We joined them in a booth at the rear of the restaurant. They were dressed to the nines. Emma’s sister, Ella, eyed us with curiosity as we sat down. She was just as perceptive as her older sister, although she hid her wit behind ignorance because she thought it made her more approachable. At least, that was what Emma had told me. I’d had a few conversations with Ella, inclining me to believe she knew more than she let on.

The Marshalls were already eating dessert, but Emma was famished. Once we were settled, she ordered a prawn and polenta dish. I followed suit, not wasting time with the menu.

“Congratulations on the sale of your house.” I nodded toward Gregory and Katherine, Emma’s parents. “Glad to see you’re getting out of that town.”

Stonerose, Connecticut. I’d been there twice, but the first time had been a train wreck. I’d been detained and interrogated by the local sheriff after Emma had been forced to watch yet another man kill himself. I knew Gregory Marshall was impatient to get his family away from there, once and for all.

“Oh, Jack,” Katherine started, and I braced myself for her sympathy. “We’re so sorry to hear about your brother. It’s such a horrific tragedy. If you need anything at all, please let us know.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Marshall.”

I’d heard similar sentiments since my brother’s passing, but Emma’s mom clearly meant every word. Her eyes glistened as she looked me over, giving my forearm a maternal squeeze—almost like she was comforting her own wounded child. I relaxed into the booth, heart warmed.

Katherine’s attention was then diverted. She licked her finger, rubbing at something on Emma’s neck. “Is this glitter?”

Shit. I’d missed a spot. Emma blushed, batting her mother’s hand away. Ella cleared her throat, coming to her sister’s defense.

“Oh, that’s from me. I sent Emma one of those joke cards. It was a trend on TikTok. When the receiver opens it, it explodes in a puff of glitter.”

“Why would you send your sister a prank greeting card?” Katherine inquired, aghast.

Ella shrugged, dipping her spoon into the chocolate lava cake. “Because it’s funny.”

Katherine gave her youngest daughter a reproachful glare but dropped the subject.

“Thank you,” Emma mouthed to Ella.

I was surprised. I didn’t even know they made prank greeting cards. And Ella had come up with it on the spot without question.

“We were just about to take Ella to Times Square.” Gregory patted his breast pocket, searching for his wallet. “You guys want to join?”

Emma grimaced at the idea. The waiter was just setting our food in front of us, clearing the rest of the party’s dessert plates.

“You three go ahead,” I replied, gesturing to Emma. “She hasn’t had dinner yet. I’ll settle up.” Gregory protested me covering the bill, but I stopped him. “I feel horrible for making Emma late tonight. Why don’t we meet for dinner when you three officially move to the city? You can grab that check if you’d like.”

With plans for a dinner in September set, the Marshalls left the restaurant. I turned to Emma, who was wolfing down her meal. I’d underestimated how famished she was.

“You’ve lost weight,” I commented, taking a bite of my own food. The stress of the past few weeks had taken its toll on her. I didn’t like that the reason she was getting thinner had everything to do with me and my fucked-up world.

She gazed at me from across the table, a dark look in her eyes. “So have you.”

I knew I’d slimmed down. I had been drinking my calories in Ireland. I was by no means slight, but I’d lost a small amount of muscle. It seemed my brother’s death and our ensuing separation had been hard on us both. Just having her sitting across from me now eased my grief over losing Connor. Her presence was soothing to my frayed nerves.

I smirked, changing the subject. “Emerald Angel, huh?”

“I thought it’d be fitting,” she mused, sipping at her water. She wasn’t drinking tonight, so neither was I. It was the first time I’d felt sober in a week.

“I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I saw you. Until I realized every other man in the room thought the same.”

She scrunched her nose in distaste. “How much did you pay to have me?”

“Fifty thousand, but it was worth every penny.”

She balked, which I had expected. Emma came from a comfortable family in financial terms, but she had no idea how much I made. Nor did I, to be honest. But Trevor Gallagher never told me to slow down on the spending, so I didn’t think of money as an issue. Early on in life, I had made it a goal to be in the position I was now—to have more wealth than I knew what to do with. Money was something I needed for comfort and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

She sat back in her seat, arms crossed in front of her. “That makes me feel like a whore.”

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