Page 39 of The Distiller's Darling

“Thanks, Naomi.” He squeezed her fingers, then turned her hand over to trace the lines of her palm with his own finger. “It means a lot. I know space is important to you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re still not allowed in the studio,” she teased.

“I would never expect studio privileges. I’m not some kind of monster.”

She laughed. “What do you think your family will say when you tell them you’ve met the quota?”

He let go of her hand and slid his palm back along the tabletop. “Really, you’re going to bring my family into this lovely moment?”

“It’s either that or we fuck right here on the table, and I think Max would get mad,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Fair enough. If you’re going to kill my boner for Max’s sake, I’ll answer the question.” He grinned at her. “Crisis averted. I don’t know what they’ll say for sure, but I’m hopeful they’ll agree to my expansion ideas. At the very least, I expect they’ll be pleased to see the business growth.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Think your dad will be proud of you?”

He blew out a sigh. “Wishful thinking, but I hope so.”

She grimaced. “I know the feeling.”

“I know you do.”

Right on cue, her phone buzzed against the hard surface of the table. Iain glanced down as the screen lit up and saw the long string of unopened text message windows. He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot of texts.”

“All from my mother.”

He leaned over, reading a few of them upside down. “Are you going to answer her?”

She shrugged. “Definitely not right now. Maybe later. I don’t know.”

He reached over to steal her last taco. “Nothing urgent?”

“She wants me to come to more events this week, to help my dad secure the Chief of Medicine position he’s gunning for. They think a united family front makes him look good, but they don’t seem to care that I might have other stuff going on.” She only had a little more than a week left with Iain; her family was going to be around for the rest of her life. She deserved a break. “My dad’s a really good doctor, and he’s well-liked in the hospital and in the community. If he can’t get the damn job himself, maybe he isn’t ready for it.” Saying the words out loud felt disloyal, and she winced.

“Harsh truths,” Iain observed around a mouthful of pork.

She sighed. “I told my mom about the Z Gallery deal and she didn’t even register it. I could have told her about my deadline, and the fact that I legitimately have to work, but she wouldn’t have believed me. It’s easier this way.”

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a new email and a voicemail notification. She hit the power button on the side to make it go dark again. She deserved some freedom, a little more time with Iain and her work. Which meant a few more days of ignoring her family. What was the worst that could happen?

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