I nod, too.
We’re both lying, but neither of us calls the other out on it.
He glances at me. “She’s nice.”
I nod again, this time in earnest. “Yeah.”
“Seemed like you two hit it off.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“She liked you, Gemma.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I have a distinct feeling, if she ever finds out I’m the glaring product of her father’s infidelity… she won’t like me very much at all. In fact, she’ll probably hate me, for ruining her life.”
“You don’t know that.”
I snort.
“Maybe she’ll never find out.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I roll my eyes. “This is Brett, we’re talking about.Brett. You seriously think, if he has a weapon he knows will hurt me — and you, by proxy — he won’t use it? That he’ll just shrug and say ‘bygones, cuz’and let it slide? Come on, Chase.”
“I’m sorry, sunshine. I thought I’d be able to protect you from this. I thought I’d stopped the story.”
“You did stop it.” My hand tightens on his. “Neither of us could’ve predicted that Rat-Bastard Ralph would team up with Bat-Shit Brett.”
“I’m just sorry you’re in the middle of it.”
“Don’t be,” I say, my voice soft. “Because if I wasn’t in the middle of this, I wouldn’t be next to you. And right now, that’s the only place I want to be.”
His eyes thaw, going soft as I watch, and he bends to press a kiss against my forehead.
“Sunshine,” he whispers.
And just that one word, in his deep, rumbling voice, warms me straight to my soul.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Always
It doesn’t take long to find our table.
At the far side of the massive ballroom, where several dozen large, round tables have been set up with white linen clothes, towering floral centerpieces, and a full china dinner-service, there’s a long, rectangular table, slightly elevated on a platform, where the Croft family is seated.
Several people are already there — Brett’s mother, a dark-haired woman with ice-blue eyes; a set of cousins nobody talks to except at family shareholder meetings, and several members of the executive board. Chase leads me to the empty seats at the middle of the table, so we’re literally center-stage for all to see, and pulls out my chair.
“Just breathe,” he whispers against my hair as he settles into the seat next to mine. “Three courses. One hour. Then we’re out of here.”
It’ll be fine. I made it through five courses of canapés at Chrissy’s baby shower last month, surrounded by seventeen married women who repeatedly tried to set me up with every eligible bachelor in their phone books.
This is child’s play.
Except, that’s not really true. Because as soon as Brett and Phoebe arrive at the table, taking the two seats directly across from me and Chase… well, I’d take three hours of fending off set-ups any day of the week. My half-sister keeps smiling at me, her sociopathic date keeps letting his eyes roam from my face to my chest —come on, dude, I don’t even have cleavage in this dress— and Chase is getting tenser by the minute.
I’m starting to think it can’t get any worse, when a man walks through the ballroom doors and begins making his way toward the stage, stopping briefly to speak with several attendees along the way. His expensive suit and distinguished appearance do nothing to distract from the fact that he’s a very sick man — his skin has an unnatural pallor, there are deep circles beneath his eyes, and he’s much too thin.
I know instantly that this is Jameson Croft, even before he arrives at our table and takes the seat next to Chase. But, as he gets closer and I spot the fading blond in his gray hair, as I catch sight of his eyes, hard and green, I’m even more started by another thought. A thought so surprising, it catches me off guard.