“There’s a call for you on line two.”

“Thanks, Rosie.

Amy pressed the flashing button on the phone and gave her standard greeting.

“Amy Peters. How may I help you?”

“Good morning Miss Peters,” a halfway familiar voice said. “Stacey Garrison here.”

She very nearly bobbled the phone and let it drop into the trashcan. Holy crap. Quinn Sanderson’s personal secretary.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Garrison?”

Continuing in a brusque, businesslike tone, the person on the other end of the unexpected call spoke in quick, incomplete sentences.

“Filling in Mrs. Sanderson’s calendar. Two notations. One a pre-launch photo op. The other a dinner reservation.”

Okay. And? Amy chewed a nail and frowned. The other woman plowed on.

“Do you have a problem with combining the two?”

Clueless and beginning to sweat bullets, she held the phone to one ear and dropped her head into the other hand.

“I’m sorry. What?”

If she came off sounding like a dolt it couldn’t be helped because she had no idea what was happening.

“Dinner at Paolini’s. Six o’clock reservation. Next Tuesday. I know it’s cutting things short with the launch that weekend, but if everyone agrees I can schedule the photographer for a quick group shot. Two birds—one stone."

Photos? Dinner? She was going to kill David for not warning her. There was just one problem. Garrison wasn’t referring to David at all.

Just to clarify, she asked the obvious. “This is Mrs. Sanderson’s calendar we’re talking about, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

The woman sounded exasperated. Amy couldn’t blame her. In this instance, it seemed best to be straight and see what happened.

“Mrs. Garrison. I’m so sorry, but you have me at a disadvantage. I wasn’t aware that dinner with Mrs. Sanderson was on the calendar.”

“I assumed David told you.”

Oh. So he DID know. Asshole.

A highly-charged silence coming over the phone line made her stomach wobbly. What was the protocol in a moment like this? Is the dinner at Paolini’s business or personal?

Finally, Stacey Garrison tut-tutted like a harried high school science teacher who just realized her students were clueless.

“He makes my job so difficult sometimes.”

Amy went still with surprise. Was Quinn’s right hand making a funny with her? Biting her lip, she said a silent prayer and pitched a jocular softball.

“I believe there’s a crowd of folks he drives crazy.”

“The apple didn’t fall far, hmm?”

She snicker-coughed and tried to preserve a shred of poise. None of her wildest imaginings ever included exchanging amusing banter with the Dragon Lady’s personal blocker.

“Perhaps I should touch base with Mr. Sanderson,” she drawled. “Is there anything else I should know before I talk to him?”

Garrison seemed to hesitate and then in an amused voice simply said, “Paolini’s is a family gathering place, Ms. Peters. Do you understand?”

She wasn’t sure, and now didn’t feel like the time to go with a guess, so she asked for a small clarification.

“Family. Not business.”

“That would be correct. You’re a fast learner. Tipping my hat to you, Ms. Peters. It’s not every day that Quinn Sanderson changes her tune.”

A smile so big it hurt her jaw spread on Amy’s face.

* * *

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

David hurried from his office, smoothing down his tie and buttoning his suit jacket as he made haste for the elevators. A problem with an overseas distributor caused a cascade of disasters only he could handle. The resulting chaos kept him trapped in meetings and calls all morning.

Waiting for the elevator, he scrubbed a hand through his hair and inspected his image reflected in the shiny doors. Butterflies were auditioning for Cirque du Soleil in his gut.

Inside the mirrored metal car, he punched the button for Amy’s floor and mumbled, “Come on, come on, come on.”

He couldn’t get to her fast enough.

Bolting from the elevator with the awkward grace of a colt, he acknowledged a couple of greetings and made for the marketing department’s domain.

For the first time, he was going with the sole purpose of seeing his girl, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass who knew. In fact, as far as he was concerned it was well past time for his relationship with the impressively smart woman he just happened to employ to go public.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sanderson.”

He stopped at the reception desk and gave the clean-cut young man the courtesy of his full attention. He might be about to stick his tongue down Amy Peters’ throat, but he was still the guy in charge.

“John, hello. How’s night school going?”

Looking pleased and a bit surprised that the head of Beck Industries remembered a tiny detail about a low-level employee, John Henderson sat up straighter.

“It’s going really good, thanks. Uh, what brings you by, sir? Can I help you?”

David took a slow, steady breath. Goodbye, shadows. Hello, sunlight.

“Is Amy free?”

The other guy’s shock was evident on his face. It was common practice to address all the department heads and project coordinators by a title. Using only her first name implied something personal.

It was all kinds of funny when John’s eyes narrowed. Did he think he was punking him?

“Do you mean, Ms. Peters? Amy Peters?”

He wondered how this humorous moment would play out in the office gossip. For some insane reason, Richard Gere in a white uniform marching through a factory came to mind.

Laughter gathered inside him, and he almost started to run before he fell apart in paroxysms of hysterical guffaws and forever after lost all credibility as a person to be taken seriously.

Smacking his hand on the counter, he gave the flabbergasted reception guy a thumbs up before turning away.

Over his shoulder, he drawled, “Never mind. Think I’ll surprise her.”

Amy’s office was located next to a small bullpen of support staff. Every single one of them looked up as he marched by.

Loud enough for the closest of the gaggle of spectators to hear, he rapped twice on the door and immediately opened it with an amused, “Quick! Hide the nail polish. The boss is here.”

An amused snicker or two drifted in the air.

Blocking the outside world, he shut the door and caught Amy’s shocked gaze. Startling her with his sudden and uncharacteristic invasion of her domain, she rose from her chair as he approached.

“You have some s’plaining to do, Mr. Sander…”

His mouth taking hers cut off the rest.

Ah, god, yes. This is what he needed.

He kissed her with slow thoroughness. She melted into his arms and surrendered so beautifully.

Coaxing her hungry response to calm before they needed a bucket of ice water thrown on them, he separated their lips and pressed kisses around her lips and along her jaw.

She clung to him and searched his face. He wanted what he said next to matter, so aiming for a somewhat credibly serious expression he said, “I want Richard Gere to play me in the movie.”

She blinked. He studied her freckles and the adorable girl-next-door quality she pulled off with zero effort.

And then she smiled.

Before long the smile turned to amused laughter.

At that precise moment, his life could not have gotten any better.

“Can you please tell me what in the freaking hell is going on? Stacey Garrison called.”

She gave him her patented one arched brow thunderbolt of shade but made no move to leave his arms.

“How deep is the shit pond I’m standing in?”

Her lips quivered on a suppressed laugh. “Whirlpool deep. Start talking.”

He relaxed and let his palm roam across her sweet ass.

“I want to stand here all day and rub against you, but this is a long story. I suggest we sit down.”

“Now,” she began with an impish snicker. “When you say sit down, are we talking a desk between us in case I go over it to rip a body part off or something less, um…cowardly?”

He gasped and swatted her butt. “Did you just call me a scaredy-cat?”

“If the whiskers fit…”

Her laughter rang out when he grabbed her wrist, not her hand, and dragged her to the modest seating area where he pushed her till she flopped backward onto a loveseat.

“Behave yourself, Ms. Peters, or I’ll be forced to slam fuck you against your desk.”

She roared with laughter. “And what good would that do?”

“I don’t know,” he told her with a laugh. “It sounded dirty in my head, so I said it.”

She patted the cushion next to her after scooting to one side. “Sit down, and YOU behave.”

He man-spread next to her, something that earned him a quick swat on the thigh. With his arm across the back of the sofa, he asked, “So, Garrison called?”

“Oh no, you don’t.”

Her disbelieving snicker made him do a double-take. “What’d I do?” he asked.

“I want every detail, David.”

“Of?”

She put her hands on his neck and playfully pretended to shake and strangle him. “How can you be so dense? Violet, of course. Tell me everything.”

“To the winner go the spoils?”

“Something like that.”

“Luckily for you, my sister prepared me for moments like this. I get it,” he quipped. “You can’t plant your heel in her face, so you want to know every last thing.”

“Yes!” She clapped her hands and grinned at him expectantly.

“You have to kiss me first.”

“Why?” she griped.

He just looked at her.

“Okay, fine!” She threw her hands up with an exasperated huff and snagged his lips with hers. The contact lasted less than a few heartbeats.

“Stingy bitch,” he muttered.

“Arrogant jackass. Now stop playing and spill.”

He noticed the sapphire bangle on her wrist and touched it with his fingers. She smiled, and her cheeks turned a beautiful, rosy pink.

“It was pretty straightforward. Offered a Mercedes as her parting gift. She laughed in my face and spent five minutes lecturing me about the dumb-ass-ness of the male species. Apparently cruising around town in a pay-off vehicle holds about as much allure as swimming with crocodiles. Who knew? Certainly not me.”

“Aw,” she snickered. “Did wittle Davy’s fee-wings get an owie?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Can you believe it?”

“Believe what?” she chortled. “That men are clueless, or you’re a big baby?”

He rolled his eyes as she snickered.

“Anyway,” he ground out with exaggerated aggravation, “it was simple and painless. I wrote a check, and as she put it in her purse, she let me know that for the last four months she’d been doing her fitness coach.”

“Good for her,” Amy squealed, “But what about Quinn?”

He laughed and moved his arm from the sofa back to around her shoulders.

“Believe it or not, Violet spoke to Mom. I think she was relieved that I wanted to pull the plug. In the end, it was a non-event. After she left, Mom asked how expensive the kiss off was.”

Amy winced. She would. The idea that relationships were negotiable and could be monetized was something she couldn’t comprehend.

“More than a Mercedes but less than a vacation home up at the lake.”

“Oh lord. David. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just money,” he assured her with a gentle shoulder squeeze.

“But…”

“Hey,” he softly chided while cutting her off. “It’s not because of you so don’t even say it. If anything, my mother owes me a check. If I weren't so conditioned to put her feelings before everything else, none of the last two years would have happened.”

“So what now?”

This was going to be the hard part. He’d done nothing but think about what Patsy told him. It took him most of a sleepless night to put it all together in his mind.

If Patsy was right, and Quinn finally owned her part in what happened with his dad and had come to see how her actions affected him and Missy, they had a window of opportunity that would take shrewd handling, but if all went well would lead to a bunch of happily ever afters.

He just needed not to lose sight of the fact that his mom was a proud woman. She wasn’t going to suddenly become warm and fuzzy. He had to handle this delicately because when truth came to shove, he loved both women. His mom and Amy.

And through their love for him, the two shared something, although now was probably not the time to try and make that point.

“Well, babe. Good question. Quinn cornered me the second I stepped foot in the building. Before she went off on one of her rants and started making crazy plans, I managed to slide in the fact that I asked you to be my date to the launch.”

“Bet that shut her up, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a nod. “But not the way you’d think.”

“Oh really?”

“It was curious, actually. When I told her, she didn’t seem surprised.”

Expecting this revelation to release some of Amy’s nervous tension, a muscle quivered in his jaw when she reacted differently.

“Should I be worried? What do you think she’ll do?”

“Okay. Stop. I’m going about this all wrong.” He caressed her shoulder for comfort. “Unbelievably, while we’ve been working overtime making everything about us, the real story was my mother.”

“I hate cryptic,” she grumbled.

He could see how tightly she was holding on to her composure. Deciding it was best to go with a data dump and pray it didn’t overwhelm her, he let most of it out.

“Patsy knows about us.”

She gasped harshly and almost jumped into his lap. He swiveled slightly and took hold of her hands.

“Not sure what my mother knew before today but like I said, she didn’t react when I mentioned us attending the launch together. And maybe there’s a reason for that. It’s all crazy convoluted and tied up in my parents’ past so let’s just say that despite taking an overly long time to get there, my mom appears to have made peace with our family drama. And if Patsy’s correct, she sees how her issues made Missy’s and my lives living hell.”

“Is that Patsy’s way of saying Quinn had a come to Jesus moment and realized she was being a bitch?”

He chuckled and quickly kissed the knuckles of one hand, and then the other before dropping her hands in her lap. “I’d say that’s a good way of putting it.”

It was quite enjoyable watching as a dozen thoughts and emotions raced back and forth across her face. Amy had expressive eyes that she rarely hid from him. The dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks glowed when her skin flushed with pink.

She was bold and delightfully sweet at the same time.

A better partner in life he couldn’t fathom because, without a doubt, nobody rode shotgun better than her. She was fully prepared at all times to be his fiercest champion, most stalwart defender and filthiest lover.

Amy Peters was also his sister’s BFF and true to form, she put his and Missy’s happiness in a spot far above her own.

“And Missy? What about her and Tom? I think he’d propose if Quinn would cut him a break.”

He took her by surprise and lifted her onto his lap. Neither of them was petite, so it took a bit of maneuvering to get them into a good spot.

“You are amazing, Ms. Peters. Here I am quite literally explaining that I think a way out of this hiding in plain sight mess is at hand, and you’re worried about Missy.”

She stopped fretting and looked at him with an open, curious expression. “I care about the people I love. What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, god. Nothing,” he assured her. “It’s what makes you Amy.”

“Does dinner at Paolini’s have anything to do with what you’re trying to tell me?”

She was astute—he had to give it to her.

“I believe it does. Garrison, I presume? She wasted no time.”

Taking a moment to adjust his tie, she playfully pretended to accidentally choke him.

“Um, ya’ know,” she said with silken mockery, “this is when a smart man would lead with a plea for mercy. Is there a reason why you let me walk blind into that, or were you just going to act like a call from Quinn’s right hand was N-B-D?”

It was a very big deal and exactly why he was shitting egg rolls the entire time he was trapped by a business crisis.

Loving irony almost as much as surprise, he let out a husky laugh. Without any effort, he was about to launch a couple’s tradition—of the tongue-in-cheek variety.

“Yeah,” he soberly snickered. “Sorry about that. Definitely a Class 2 My Bad moment.”

She laughed. “Class 2? What constitutes Class 1?”

“Class 1 is for the big fuck ups. Like forgetting anniversaries and shit like that.”

Amy chuckled and nodded. “I see. Hmph.”

David slid a hand into his suit jacket and withdrew a black velvet pouch. “Class 3 daily shit-fucker moments are easily papered over with flowers. Or dinner. But a firm Class 2 blunder requires more.”

She didn’t take the pouch. It just sort of hung there in mid-air. Was he making a mistake? Her solid wall of deathlike silence gave him the willies. What the fuck did he miss?

Gently pushing down the hand holding the pouch, she placed both of hers on either side of his face and asked for his undivided attention.

“David Sanderson. The only gift or gesture passing between us will be the one that matters most. Communication. If we’re going to do this out in the open, then we have to really and truly stop hiding. The burner phones are history. You tell Miguel about me, and I’ll inform my team. In other words, calls get put through. Explanations, even hasty ones, are exchanged.”

“Agreed.”

Her eyes softened.

“I apologize for not giving you a timely heads up,” he declared.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Said with just enough sincerity to avoid bodily harm.”

Then she kissed him.

He laughed when she sat back after subduing him with her lips, acutely aware of the amusing table-turning. Wasn’t he supposed to be the kisser?

“Okay,” she snickered with a sly chuckle. “Now. Hand over the pouch.”

Before doing as she asked, he ran a hand over her hip and offered up a meaningful leer. “I don’t suppose you have any crotchless panties, do you?”

“What?”

Her reaction amused him.

“Are you insane?” she asked through tight lips.

His answer was a bark of laughter. “Where you’re concerned? Absofucking-goddam-lutely.”

After a short moment when she squirmed so much on his lap that he nearly threw her on the floor so he could fuck her senseless, he explained.

“I just thought that since we’re taking this public, we could add some interest to the proposition.”

“Interest to the proposition,” she parroted in a mildly confused murmur.

“Yeah, you know. We could set up appointments.”

“Appointments?”

God, she was so adorably clueless.

“Yep. Like right now. No one in their right mind is going to knock on that door, so let’s consider our options.”

She blinked and gave him an expression that made him grin like an idiot. “Options?”

“Sure. Options. Like,” he shrugged, “easy stuff. How much delicious fun would it be to take a meeting with my cock buried inside you?”

She gawked at him for a second while his teasing commentary sank in. And then she burst out laughing.

“There is something so wrong with you,” she wheezed out between giggling cackles.

“I know, right? Here,” he drawled while pushing the pouch into her hands. Take your consolation prize.”

She opened the pouch and put two fingers in to scoop out the contents. A pair of delicate sapphire earrings that matched the bracelet sparkled in the light. He didn’t wait for a reaction. Instead, he deftly removed the simple pearl dangles she wore and replaced them with the new jewelry.

“They make your eyes seem bluer,” he murmured as he inspected her lovely face.

He’d never known her to be speechless, but she was. A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes.

Panic seized him. “What’s wrong? Please don’t cry.”

He couldn’t take her tears. One other time when she’d cried about something he’d lost his shit in a spectacular way. Crying was not on the approved list.

She folded into his embrace and put her head on his shoulder. In a husky whisper, she breathed close to his ear, “I love you so very much.”

“Then why are you crying?” he asked as the frantic panic increased.

“Shhh.” He felt her lips pressing soft kisses on his neck and jaw. “I’m not really crying. It’s just a lot for me to take on board.”

Oh. Okay. That he could deal with.

“I don’t know what Quinn’s agenda is and to be honest, I think I just stopped caring.”

“She’s your mother.”

“Yes. And I’m a great son. But the part of the story where she runs my private life because of how she deals with her public one is done. Caput. Finished. Stick a fork in it.”

The damn buzzer on her intercom went off, and they both flinched.

“Fuck.” Her darkly muttered oath accompanied a desperate, awkward attempt to get off his lap. In the end, he nearly dumped her on the floor, which in turn triggered a couple of fast minutes of them cracking up

Finally on her feet, she dashed to the desk and replied. “Sorry. Was across the room. What’s up?”

The voice of John from the reception desk came across loud and clear.

“Chicken Little,” he hastily barked. “Chicken Little,” he repeated.

Amy’s face fell, and she went ashen.

“Shit!” she bawled. “It’s Patsy. She’s on her way…”

Before another word came out, the door to her office was flung open and standing there in all her shit-stirring glory was his up-to-no-good aunt wearing an expression he could only describe as mischievous.

His inner dialogue, though? Nothing but snickering laughter as he realized Amy and her team had a code word for Patsy.

Chicken Little. Fucking perfect.

* * *

Amy was relatively certain her life passed before her eyes when Patsy Loman, looking every inch the Christmas-stealing Grinch in her lime green power suit and expertly coiffed updo, appeared like the wrath of God framed in the doorway with light streaming in from behind.

She gulped. Right away the manic thumping of her heart made a blush of heated worry spread on her face.

The woman scared the shit right out of her.

“Stinky,” Patsy purred as she turned her attention to David. “Somehow I knew this was where I’d find you.”

And how did her tongue-tied boyfriend reply? With a dimwitted, “Uh.”

Oh, this was going no place good.

Patsy ignored her. It’s what she did, so Amy remained still so as not to attract any attention. For now, it seemed better to shut up and observe.

David looked at her with wide eyes as Patsy did a circuit around her office—picking up things to inspect and studying the photos and project mock-ups around the room.

“Oh, I remember this,” she murmured. Leaning closer for a better look, David’s aunt peered at an official picture from the first major endeavor Amy worked on. An intense burst of pride shot up her spine.

Thankfully, David regained his ability to speak. Moving to Patsy’s side, he casually remarked, “Proof positive that the mentor program worked.”

Oh, jeez. She tried not to wince. It didn’t require a fortune teller to know what was coming next. Men were unbelievably dense at times.

Snickering, Patsy turned and looked her nephew up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

“Is that what we’re calling this now?” Patsy’s finger swayed between pointing at the two of them. “Mentoring?”

David froze. Amy inwardly groaned. Patsy looked triumphant.

And then he laughed. A big, huge, head thrown back, husky laugh.

“Tell me something,” David chuckled. “Are you here by your own broomstick power or are you on flying monkey duty?”

“Little of both,” Patsy drawled with a Mae West hand bump on her updo.

Oh my god—what’s happening?

The sound of slow applause rang out when David clapped his hands. “Bravo. You’ve managed to scare my girlfriend shitless.”

Girlfriend? Holy shit. He said it out loud. To his aunt. Amy’s head gave a little spin.

Patsy waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “Oh, pfft. She’ll recover.”

David looked at her with a wide, toothy grin. “Honey,” he said softly. His hand came out, and he gestured her forward. “Come here. It’s all right. She won’t bite.”

It sounded like he was introducing her to a guard dog. As she stepped forward the comedy of the whole situation took her under, and an involuntary snort of jeering amusement ripped out of her.

Horrified, Amy slapped a hand across her mouth just as Patsy shook all over with laughter and high-fived David.

“Shit Stinky Pants,” she cackled. “She’s perfect for our crazy family.”

David slung his arm over her shoulders. The move was casual and lovably possessive.

“Amy Peters, this is my certifiably nuts aunt. Forget ever meeting her crazy ass before this, okay?”

What was she supposed to do? Nodding her agreement, Amy noticed that Patsy was eyeing them with undisguised curiosity.

“As long as you remember to move carefully when she’s around and never to attempt to steal her spotlight, you’ll be fine.”

“Aaaand?” Patsy smirked.

“Oh yeah, and she either knows where the skeletons are buried or hid them herself so watch your step.”

“Quinn’s skeletons,” she added with snarky emphasis. “Which is why I’m here.”

“One thing at a time you bossy bitch. I was doing the introduction.”

Patsy’s arched brow and her mock incredulity was damn funny.

“He wears big boy pants now, I suppose?” she asked with so much snark that Amy snorted again.

“Aw, come on,” David answered sulkily. “You could at least pretend to be normal for five minutes, couldn’t you?”

Patsy made a gesture of surrender. Amy noted that her manicure was not nail salon perfect—a sure sign of someone who worked with her hands. She was intrigued. Maybe David’s aunt was more than a powerful, society business woman.

“No, you’re right,” Patsy agreed. “Don’t want to scare your little plaything away right off the bat.”

Amy found her voice in a goddamn hurry at the implied putdown. With a brittle chuckle, she gave Patsy her own arched brow and asked, “How do you know it’s not him who’s the plaything?”

After a short laugh, Patsy replied with a joyful smile. “Yes, yes. You’ll do fine.”

“Patsy Loman, say hello and be nice. This, as you know, is Amy Peters and in case this isn’t abundantly clear by now, she’s the one.”

“Do I curtsey or is a handshake enough?” Amy wasn’t entirely sure where the words came from. It was a little like the first time she met Quinn Sanderson when her instinct had been to use humor.

“Curtsey?” Patsy asked with horror. “Handshake? Are you crazy?”

David murmured a warning. “Patsy…”

Instead of the rejection Amy feared, Patsy Loman came at her and initiated a fearsome hug complete with back and forth arcs that stunned her for a second.

“This family hugs.”

“We do?” David asked. His laughing response sounded genuinely happy.

“Well, we do now,” Patsy declared. “Matter of fact, it’s starting to seem like the whole fam-damily is on a love boat cruise so get used to it!”

“Please tell me Missy and Tom are on board.”

Patsy shooed them into the seating area. “The real question, Amy, isn’t about Missy. Or you guys.”

She didn’t understand and sent her eyes to David’s face.

He seemed to be considering something and then suddenly said, “Judge Karalis?”

Oh, wait a minute, she thought. Hadn’t Missy mentioned something about a judge trying to hold Quinn’s hand?

“We all know what a hard ass Quinn has been. Her bullshit drove you two into hiding and made poor Missy a nervous wreck.”

She felt a strong compulsion to add her two cents—so she did.

“Melissa is my friend, and David is—well, you know what he is. They both love their mother, Mrs. Loman.” She turned a smile on her man. “I admire that trait. In both of them.”

Patsy brushed invisible specks off her skirt. “Well,” she sniffed. “I believe I just found out why Quinn kept her tongue for so long.”

David beamed at her as if she’d just announced the winning answer. Her brows bumped together in confusion.

“She’s fucking awesome, isn’t she?” He drawled.

Then he hesitated a moment. His chin tilted up, and he made a face when something occurred to him. “Hold on. For so long? What the hell does that mean?”

Patsy wasted no time getting to the heart of her visit.

“That’s why I’m here, Stinky. I’m like that meteorologist on channel five. The one who likes to prognosticate about the weather in crude terms. When I spoke to your mom this morning, she made a confession, and the second it came out of her my radar pinged. I don’t know the details, but it’s a sure thing that she’s known about you two for a while.”

That sound? It was her composure shredding. “Oh, no,” she gasped. “David. She knows we lied.”

“I’ve got this,” he assured her. “Why a confession?”

Patsy sniggered. “Oh, goody! And look. We’ve circled round and stopped at the perfect spot. Why a confession? Judge Karalis.”

They were speaking in code or something because she wasn’t following. Throwing up her hands she motioned a ‘T’ for a time out and let loose with a shrill whistle. David and Patsy immediately stopped and looked at her.

“Sorry,” she admitted. “Habit. Sometimes it’s the only way to get a word in edgewise at the dinner table. Can one of you please help me read between the lines? I’m confused.”

Patsy chuckled. “Your family whistles. This one just talks right over each other.”

“Hey,” David quipped. “I’m with Amy on this. Give us the four-one-one. Help us understand.”

“It’s simple, really,” Patsy assured them. “I told you already Stinky—your mom smells the coffee. She knows she went too far. You have Adrian Karalis to thank for that. He’s been breaking down the wall she put up, stone by stone.”

“Whoa.”

When he reacted, Amy looked at David. He wore an expression of absolute wonder.

“Exactly. Anyway—Adrian made her see how bitterness and a cargo-ship of wounded pride set your family on a perilous course. You and Missy became victims of your parents’ fucked-up-ness over and over and over.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, presumably so each could think about the ramifications of Patsy’s revealing explanation.

“That uptight witch you call a mother is my oldest and closest Ya Ya sister. She’s a handful, I’ll grant you that. But she loves her kids to the moon and back. Quinn expressing regret isn’t the long shot you might think. That’s what I came to say. Just give her a chance.”

“Is that why she had her assistant call me?”

“Are you serious?” Patsy asked with a sniggering titter. “She had Garrison do her dirty work? What a shit.”

“Would you have survived an actual person-to-person with my mother?” David gently asked.

He had a point, so she shook her head with a tiny shrug.

“Be that as it may, if my opinion counts for anything I just want to say that I’m thrilled for you and Melissa. It takes a lot to come out the other side of an ugly, emotional family break-up and be anywhere close to normal. I’m proud of you both. You turned out okay—and the choices you’re making now, well…” She ended with a smirk and a shrug. “Good work.”

David leaned closer and mock whispered loud enough for the whole room to hear, “I think that was the Loman Seal of Approval.”

“Shut up Stinky.”

Amy laughed and then asked the obvious. “Um, hey. Would one of you like to explain the stinky pants thing?”

David groaned, and his head flopped back on his neck. It was comical surrender.

Patsy stood up and smoothed her appearance with sure, steady hands while smirking all the while.

“If she’s going to be part of the family,” she said with meaningful emphasis, “she’s gonna have to know.”

Amy glanced between aunt and nephew, enjoying the relaxed and amusing way they had with each other.

“She is going to be part of the family—right, David?”

He glared at her and said, “There’s clearance for your broom on runway three.”

Laughing, she bent over and kissed his cheek before giving the same cheek a nasty pinch and a sharp slap.

“Smart ass.”

“You better go,” he drawled. “Your cauldron is bubbling over.”

“Amy,” Patsy said with a hearty laugh. “I like you, and as long as you don’t take his shit, I’ll continue to like you.”

She laughed. “Ah, well then, Mrs. Loman. It looks like we’re going to be the best of friends because I’ve totally got his number.”

David looked back and forth between them and laughed. “Man, I’ll tell you what. Tom better ball up fast because you ladies are scary as shit when you’re on the same page. I need some back-up.”

The weird encounter drew to a close. David kissed her sweetly at the door to her office and explained that he was going to walk his aunt to her car.

Patsy Loman watched them with a knowing smile.

A long time after they left she was still thinking about how fast things were moving. After a few years of slow, steady and secret, her head was swimming.

She looked at the sapphire bangle and touched the delicate earrings.

They never had anything that resembled a real plan for how they were going to come out as a couple. Maybe this was the way it was supposed to happen, and she should stop worrying about the timing and get with the program because there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that by the time she left the office for the day, the Beck Industries gossip channel would have been on fire for hours.

Today, when she shut the door of her office and headed for home, everyone she passed and spoke to on her way out of the building would know she was David Sanderson’s girlfriend.