Page 76 of Sweet Nothings

“Well, the rest of my day is clear, so whatever you want to do, we can do it.” He casually shrugs his shoulders.

I peer at him with raised eyebrows. “Your entire day is cleared?”

“Yes.” He nods once. “I couldn’t wait until we got home to see you, much less wait until lunch, so I had Olivia clear my entire schedule.”

This time, I’m certain my heart bursts.

I step closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I stand on my bare toes again as my stomach grumbles once more. “What did I do to earn such special treatment?”

“You married me.” Lennon’s words fall effortlessly from his mouth as if he’s simply stating a fact, which he is. But there’s more to it. More than if he had said those same words to me over a month ago when he proposed.

An adequate response is lost on me when he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear.

“But we’re having dinner with Micah and a friend of his tonight,” he tells me.

“Oh, we are, are we?” I pop an eyebrow, teasing.

“We are.”

I wrap his tie around my hand, pulling him down to me. His eyes darken, falling to my mouth. “I thought you said you cleared your schedule for today.”

“I did.” He growls. “But this is a family dinner, and I owe my brother a favor.”

“Well.” I smirk, butterflies filling my stomach at Lennon calling this a family dinner. “Who would I be if I were to deny you from delivering on a promise?”

TWENTY-FOUR

Walking through the large glass doors to Eclipse brings with it a flood of emotions I’m unprepared for.

I haven’t been to my father’s favorite restaurant since the night he died, hours before I found his cold lifeless body.

But the wave of emotions crashing in as the valet holds the door open for me is a mixed bag to say the least. Among them, grief is nowhere to be found. Not one ounce of sorrow is felt for the man who made everyone’s life miserable. A wave of nausea crashes along the jagged, rocky shore of every memory I have of walking behind my father, and how every person he passed by would either bow to him as if he were royalty or cower away in fear. Ducking their heads or making themselves appear busy. Everyone felt my father’s presence, from the valet’s opening the front door to the bus boys cleaning off tables on the opposite side of the dining room. Eclipse was my father’s domain.

Ground zero. Homebase. In many ways, this place was my father’s castle rather than our own office building.

I’m gripping Laurel’s hand with more pressure than I realize. I feel her wince beside me before she wraps her hand around my bicep. She leans close, whispering in my ear as we continue walking up the concrete steps and through the glass doors.

“I’m here.” Her words hit me right where I need them. Somewhere between my heart and the bitter unresolved resentments I harbor for a man sentenced to eternity of rotting beneath six feet of cold, Massachusetts dirt.

I squeeze her hand in return and smile at the hostess standing near the entrance of the dining room. Large, opulent chandeliers hang from the ceiling. The light reflects off every facet of glass, sparkling onto the marble floor beneath our feet.

“Good evening, Mr. Harding.” Hugh, the owner of Eclipse, greets us. He holds his arm out toward the back of the restaurant. His greasy hair is slicked back as usual, but the hollows of his eyes have deepened since the last time I saw him. “We were sorry to hear of your father’s passing. We’ve missed him greatly here and are glad to see you feel it in your heart to return.”

“Right.” I nod, biting down on the tip of my tongue. I swear I taste blood, but that could just be the sour feeling I have from hearing Hugh talk about James Harding as if he was a fucking god we were all privileged to have known.

I know it’s because Hugh misses the business ties he had with my father, though. They often snorted lines of coke in the back office, and my father would get him access to every woman he’d ever encountered. Hugh’s haggard appearance tells me he’s lost more with my father’s death than any of his children have. Now he’s looking at me as if he’s hoping I’ll pick up right where my father left off.

Laurel squeezes my arm again, reminding me she’s my anchor.

“Hugh, this is my wife, Laurel,” I introduce, figuring I should at least play the part I came here to play.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Harding.” Hugh bows at the waist.

“You as well.” Laurel smiles, her red-painted lips stretching to reveal her perfect teeth.

“Your usual table near the back is all set for you,” Hugh says, leading Laurel and me through the dining room.

We follow him until we reach our usual booth; a large circle covered in rich crimson leather. I inhale a sharp breath and hold out my arm, allowing Laurel to slide in first.

---