Page 28 of Grand Escape

Adam nodded. “Nice. In Michigan, we have just regular old snow that gets ugly and gray when it’s driven in. New York is pretty in the winter when snow falls, but then the traffic ruins it.”

A dreamy expression came over his face, and then, sadly, Natalie interrupted.

“If it’s okay with you, Ry, Mr. Stern asked for the tasting menu.” Natalie actually acknowledged me and looked to me for an answer.

I wasn’t a picky eater. In fact, I grew up on tasting menus and knew this one wouldn’t disappoint. But it cost a fortune.

My thoughts must have played out on my face because Adam spoke up.

“It’s my vacation, so I wanted to splurge.”

Knowing I couldn’t object after that, I said, “Thank you, Nat. That sounds wonderful.”

As soon as she made a quick escape, I asked Adam, “You like New York?”

He took a sip of water before responding. “I work there too. My brother—who’s my partner—has an office in the city, and I passed the bar there. We share some big clients.”

“Wow, you’re pretty accomplished,” I said, then asked, “Wealthy clients?” I might not have gone to college, but I could read between the lines.

“Yes, but that’s all confidential, other than what’s on Google.”

Making a note to google Adam, I moved the conversation along. “Your brother’s a lawyer too, then?”

“Yes. We went to different colleges, but then met back up for law school at U of Michigan.”

“And your sister, the other triplet?”

“She wasn’t a lawyer.”

A food runner arrived with an appetizer—a sea scallop on crème fraiche with a dollop of caviar. Natalie wasn’t far behind to explain the dish.

After Natalie left, I couldn’t help but ask him, “Wasn’t?”

He nodded. “Wasn’t. I don’t want to spoil our dinner with this subject, so I’ll give you the short version. My sister wasn’t well. Mental illness. Cal and I did our best to look out for her, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t do enough. We couldn’t. She’s not ... she’s with us anymore.”

When his voice broke on the last words, I blinked back sympathetic tears. Here I was thinking poor me, spoiled little rich girl who lost her trust fund, and Adam was truly suffering.

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could think of to say, and it seemed so lame. Not nearly enough to acknowledge the depth of his loss.

Adam looked away. “Yeah, so am I. No one could do anything more, though. At least, that’s what they say.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m callous, but I assume you don’t want to talk about it now. At least, I don’t want to. I want to enjoy this dinner, okay? It’s not a you thing. It’s a me thing.”

The abject sadness in his eyes nearly drowned him. As I watched, Adam swallowed hard, silently battling it before meeting my gaze again.

“Another time,” he mumbled, and the subject was done.

Nodding, I mentally scolded myself to shut the hell up. But my hand found its way over to his, caressing his smooth skin and itching to link fingers with his. It wasn’t like me to overtly display affection or comfort. Yet here I was, doing it anyway, and in the hotel where I worked.

When he cleared his throat, I moved to pull my fingers away, but his hand tightened on mine.

“I like that,” he said, then smoothly changed the subject as if it was something he did often. “You’re really not going to ask me anything about the wealthy clients?”

A laugh escaped me. “I told myself to google it later, but ... nah, I’m just kidding. We get our fair share of celebs here. I’m not immune, but the excitement doesn’t grab me like it used to.”

Natalie stopped by with a bisque. Mumbling something about not wanting to interrupt, she sat it down and gave us privacy.

“I feel bad,” I said without thinking.

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