Page 73 of Sweet Nothings

Fred pauses, allowing the silence to fall between us. Any seconds that pass after the last word falls from my mouth already confirm the answer I know to be true.

My uncle stuffs his hands into his pockets, already knowing how I’ll receive his answer. “I did. I figured he had the right to know.”

“Why?” I ask, trying not to raise my voice. My relationship with Fred has always been on the rocks. I’ve always wondered why I’ve put up with his bullshit for as long as I have. Perhaps it’s fear of the unknown. Even before I graduated, I became a junior attorney at this firm. But perhaps it’s complacency. Emotion constricts my throat, and I swallow around my anger.

“I told you,” Fred defends. “He’s your brother, and I thought he had a right to know.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, Fred.” I scoff. “It also wasn’t your news to share.” Now I understand where Roe is coming from. Some secrets aren’t meant to be told by others. We have a right to decide when and how people find out our darkest truths.

Fred waves his hand flippantly. “He’d already seen it on the news, anyway. The New England region talked about your wedding for a solid week.”

I catch my breath, swallowing my anger. Fred has a point. Every news station and newspaper column in the region was covering our wedding. But it still doesn’t negate the fact Fred felt the need to discuss it with Kellan, knowing where my feelings stand.

“Still. . .” I grit. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk to Kellan about me in your little phone calls. I’ll decide when andifI ever choose to speak to him again.”

I don’t allow my brother to take up too much space inside my head. He doesn’t deserve it. The only thing that comes out of thinking about Kellan is a massive headache and anger that won’t ever fade.

“Mrs. Harding?” my assistant, Trey, says through the intercom on my desk.

“Yes, Trey?” I ask, peering up at my uncle, thankful for the interruption.

“Your husband is here to see you. He says you were supposed to meet him in his office for lunch.”

“Right.” I clear my throat. “Send him in, please.”

“Of course.”

Frederick waddles over to my desk and points his finger to Ryan Perrish’s complaint. “I’ve made this copy for you to read over. I want you on this case as well.”

“Okay.” I nod, thankful Frederick is no longer so desperate for money that he’s picking up cases that have no merit. At least Ryan’s case is legitimate. Or so I hear.

Apparently, I’ll find out when I read through the two-inch file sitting on my desk.

Lennon knocks on the door to my office before peeking his head around the large oak. He’s wearing his signature black suit today, but this time, he’s paired it with a dark gray tie instead of his usual black.

I smile the instant I see him, the worry for my sister slightly subsiding. At least enough to where the sight of Lennon makes my body hum with excitement.

“Good morning, Mr. Harding,” Frederick greets Lennon, holding out his hand.

Lennon returns the gesture. “I told you, Frederick. You can call me Lennon. Please.”

“Sure, Lennon. Bad habit since I never addressed your father so casually, but I guess it’s different now that you’re married tomy niece.” Frederick sighs, patting his hand against his stomach. “Anyway, I was just finishing up here with Laurel.” He swings his gaze in my direction. “Let me know when you’ve read through that complaint. I want you on this case with me.”

“Okay.” I push out from my desk and move around to the front of it, standing beside Lennon. He’s several feet away, but his scent immediately surrounds me.

Frederick gives us each a nod before stuffing his hands inside his pockets and sauntering out of my office.

“Everything okay?” Lennon asks. I snap my head to the left, Roe’s silence returning to the forefront of my brain. Like a magnet, I’m drawn to my phone. Did I miss her text while I was busy talking to Frederick? She might have messaged me when Lennon knocked on the door.

“I’m fine.” I wave him off.

He gives me a look that tells me he knows when I say I’m fine that I’m anythingbutfine. The knot in my stomach returns when his eyes meet mine. I feel exposed, as if my eyes are windows he’s peering through. I’m open and vulnerable, with Roe’s secret laid out for him to see.

I want to walk away, only to get the weight of his concern for me away from my hammering heart. He stops me before I have the chance, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist.

“Hey.” He gently tugs me toward him, pulling me to his chest. “You would tell me if something was wrong, right?”

I swallow. I want to tell him, but how do I tell him a secret that isn’t mine to share? Part of me thinks it isn’t fair for Roe to ask me to keep her diagnosis a secret. But then another part of me doesn’t think it’s fair for me to judge whether her request is fair or not.

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