Chapter 12

They’d showered separately. She’d been first, brushing her teeth when she finished and laughing when Sean shouldered into the small bathroom naked, shrugged, and stepped into the shower while she was still standing there, minty-white foam overflowing from her lips.

As much as she would have liked to, it would have been weird to just stand there and watch him shower, so she’d gone to her room and pulled on a pair of panties and a tank top to sleep in. She’d been on her bed when Sean walked in ten minutes later. He was wearing his boxer briefs, light blue this time, and his hair was a sexy, wet mess that looked almost as good as it had after she’d had her fingers in it through two rolls in the hay. She’d been about to comment when, without a word, he scooped her off the bed and tossed her over his shoulder and marched out of her room.

“Sean!” she squealed, futilely grappling for a hold. “What are you doing?”

“I put out, twice,” he announced above her laughter, dumping her onto his bed with a bounce and then following her down. “I earned the cuddle.”

“You think?” she teased, not even trying to keep a straight face because oh man, oh man, had he ever earned a cuddle or anything else he wanted.

“Sit up.”

She did as he asked, checking around the bed beneath her to see if she was on top of something. But that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Arms up, Moll,” he ordered, pulling at the hem of her tank top until she complied.

“So this is going to be a naked cuddle?”

“Don’t be crazy. Friends don’t cuddle naked.” The tank landed on the floor in a little heap, and for one second, Sean just stared at her chest like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Sean?”

“Right,” he said with a contented sigh. “We’re getting a friendly topless cuddle. Just tonight.” He punched his pillow and then lay back, that amazingly muscled arm outstretched like a pillow too perfect to resist.

Sean was a pretty cuddly guy, so it wasn’t like they’d never curled up before. But this was something else. This was skin-to-skin contact, warm and comforting and so very right. Her head settled against his shoulder, and he pulled her closer. Their legs were tangled together, and she was in Sean’s arms. And even though she’d thought she’d never be able to unwind after what they’d done, already she could feel her muscles loosening and that contented fog settling in her mind.

Sean pressed his lips to her brow. “You know I’m going to have to move out after this.”

“I know.” He’d have to. They’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. There wouldn’t be any more pretending salvation could be found in the yarn channel. They’d have to rely on good old-fashioned will and, short of that, space.

Still… “I’ll miss having you here.”

His gruff laugh ruffled her hair, and even with her eyes closed, she could sense the smile on his lips as he held her closer.

“I know.”

The last thing she remembered before drifting off was the too-good feeling of Sean’s arms tightening around her as if he wasn’t ready to let her go.

* * *

Molly had been so sure the morning after was going to be hell. Filled with regret and all the awkward tension she’d been accumulating since Sean moved in, times a million. But it wasn’t. Sean was at the office when she dragged herself out of his bed around eleven, and in her room was the most beautiful bouquet of flowers she’d ever laid eyes on. There were roses, peonies, and stargazer lilies in every shade of pink, and on the card, there were two words written in Sean’s script.

Only you…

Molly hadn’t stopped smiling since. Which was something of a feat considering no small portion of her day had been spent scrubbing grout and toilets for the Goudins, whose newly remodeled kitchen was going to be featured in some design magazine, and before the shoot, they wanted the entire condo scoured to a high-polish gleam. She’d been happy for the job, they were paying her double to come in on a Sunday, and Carla was a breeze to work for.

Finished by three, Molly had time for a shower and change before heading over to Belfast for the evening shift. She’d been telling Brody about their latest vendor issues when he sat back in his chair and pushed both hands through that wild mane of hair.

“That’s great, Moll. If you want to try out the other guys, set it up.”

“Got it.” Pushing up from her seat, she asked, “Anything else?”

The eyes that met hers were patiently amused. “You tell me.”

Jill must have told Brody what she’d seen the night before behind the bar.

Mouth pursed, Molly crossed her arms and looked down at her boots. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

The gruff burst of laughter from her boss said about the same thing as her heart. She was a liar.

“Try again. Or better, have someone cover so we can grab a beer. I think you’re going to want one.”

He rounded the desk and threw a heavy arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to his side. They walked past the bar where a couple of regulars sat, more there for the game and the meal in front of them than the beer. She thought Brody would head for their usual table, but instead, he guided them right rather than left. They didn’t open the restaurant side on Sunday nights, so the room was only lit by a handful of spots around the perimeter.

“Grab the table in the corner, Moll, and I’ll get the beer.”

Molly crossed to the far side of the room where the wall was lined with booths and slid in. A minute later, Brody was back with a couple of pints. Sitting across from her, he rapped his knuckles on the glossy surface of the table.

“Here’s what I know,” he said, pushing his phone across the table, screen side up.

Molly choked, heat surging to her cheeks.

The small screen had captured a kiss that looked like it had been seconds from becoming flat-out porn. Sean had Molly wrapped around him, her jean skirt pushed up enough that she could see where every one of his fingers dug into her ass. Their mouths were fused together, his shoulders hunched forward as he held her close, her chest pressed into his, and her hands knotted in his hair. This stolen snapshot had captured their kiss completely, the need and heat etched on their features frozen in digital clarity.

“Oh, Jill is so dead.” How could she?

“Not Jill. Or at least not what you think,” Brody corrected. “One of the girls she was out with had been looking for a place to grab a smoke and headed out the back door. I guess she saw you guys, snapped a picture, and then went back in, laughing about the couple out back. Which was when Jill looked out. She didn’t even realize her friend had taken the picture until she posted it on Instagram. Jill saw it pretty fast and had her take it down. She even went over to her house and made sure her friend deleted it from her phone and backup storage…but she sent a copy to me first. I don’t know, maybe she figured you’d want to know what had been out there, just in case.”

Molly’s breath left her in a slow leak. Sean tried really hard to keep a handle on his public image. He practically lived two lives to make sure pictures like this one didn’t happen.

Brody reached for his phone, but Molly got it first, pulling it all the way in front of her.

This was so bad. But it could have been much worse if Jill hadn’t acted so quickly. “Okay, so I guess I won’t be scheduling Jill for back-to-back closing and opening shifts until time eternal. Has Sean seen this?”

“Not yet.”

Molly tapped the screen, bringing up the messaging program, and then sent the picture to herself. When the image arrived, she deleted the shot from Brody’s phone before returning the device to him.

“I’ll tell him,” she said, hating the sinking feeling in her gut. He’d be fine, but last night had been perfect. She hadn’t wanted anything to taint it.

Brody took a long swallow from his beer. When he set it down, he shrugged. “Why Sean?”

The question caught Molly off guard, and she opened her mouth in a sputtering protest.

Brody cut her off with the wave of his hand. His soulful green eyes locked on hers as he folded his arms on the table in front of him. “Because it’s always been him, right?”

She wanted to deny it—to Brody, to herself. But there it was. It had always been Sean, and at least in some way, it always would be. Because he’d made her laugh when she’d forgotten how. Because he needed her as much as she’d needed him. And because one day, he’d looked at her, and suddenly, she hadn’t been able to catch her breath…and just like that, it was him.

She slumped back in her seat, giving in to the helpless smile. “Yeah, it has.”

It was hard to admit, even to Brody, who was arguably one of her best friends. She could confide in him about almost anything. But Sean—Sean had always been a secret too close to her heart. Even once she’d grown out of the most crushing emotions, she’d kept them close. “But the kiss…” She couldn’t admit to more than the kiss. Not even to Brody. “That never happened before last night. And the rest, me all caught up in him… It hadn’t been like that for a long time.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have asked you out myself if I’d thought you were still into him.”

Molly smiled, looking into her beer. Brody had been a lot of things to her over the years, and she loved him…but only like a brother.

“So what changed?” he asked, nothing in that rumbly deep voice of his but curiosity based on caring.

“Sean walking around my apartment, stripped down to nothing but those silky basketball shorts and a sheen of sweat. Some friend, right?” She laughed and looked away, not wanting Brody to see her eyes. Because while what she’d given him was the simplest truth, it wasn’t the whole truth. Which seemed to be a pattern with her lately, and one she wasn’t too proud of.

Why couldn’t that shallow objectification be the whole story?

Why couldn’t she really have outgrown the feelings for Sean that had plagued her since that first year they met?

They’d been tamed to a degree. Managed enough so she could function…date…smile.

Get out of bed.

And most importantly, be around the friends who were the foundation of her life without giving anything away that would threaten that bond. But as adept as she’d gotten at pretending those forbidden feelings for Sean didn’t exist, they were never far away. She was always working to keep them in check, because they were deep, and they were strong, and they were a very real part of who she was.

“You sure a friend is all you are? Because that picture, Moll?” He let out a low whistle.

She knew. That picture said more than she wanted about her feelings for Sean. The look on their faces had been almost pained, as if it hurt not to be closer than they were. And what had been captured in that image was nothing compared to what had been going on a couple of hours later.

After another long swallow of her beer, she scrunched back in the booth. “I’m sure. Whatever was in that picture, we got out of our systems last night.” And even if they hadn’t, Sean had the movers coming first thing the next morning.

* * *

“Just what the fuck was your dirty fucking dick doing anywhere near Molly?” Max demanded, stalking out of the Wyse private elevator two days later.

Sean uncrossed his legs and stood from where he’d been leaning against an incredibly uncomfortable wingback chair in the foyer of his parents’ incredibly uncomfortable apartment. He’d been expecting something like this, but even for Max, ninety-seven minutes after touchdown seemed extreme.

“I’m guessing this is a straight-from-the-airport visit?” Sean asked, fairly sure his favorite employee, Sarah Brandt, was going to skin him alive the next morning for screwing up her honeymoon. “Where’s the lovely bride, anyway?”

Max rubbed the back of his short brush cut. “Dropped me here and then took the cab back to our place.”

Sean was dead meat, for sure. And it was definitely going to be the newest Brandt taking him down. Not his buddy, who just looked like he wanted to.

“I’m serious, Sean.” Max crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him. “What the fuck were you doing? Because I know it wasn’t putting some bullshit move on her like you do with all your other disposable dates. I know you wouldn’t be that stupid.” Then, as if the guy couldn’t live with leaving it at that insulting threat, his head dropped forward, and he added, “I know you wouldn’t be so selfish with Molly. Not unless you were wrecked or something, and even if you were, that’s no fucking excuse.”

Jesus, Sean wouldn’t have thought there was anything worse than Max looking at him like he wanted to take his head off, but knowing that one of his best friends in the world couldn’t look at him at all was definitely worse. Especially when Sean was about to do what he was going to do.

Lie.

Code or no code, Molly was a grown fucking woman, and what happened between them was no one’s business but their own. If she wanted her brother to know they’d slept together, she was welcome to tell him, and Sean would gladly own it. But that information wasn’t coming from him, and not just because said brother was standing there looking like he was about to have an aneurysm waiting for Sean to put his fears to rest.

Still, if he wanted to defuse the situation, he was going to have to give the guy something. Hell, Molly was Max’s little sister…and that bro code of ethics they’d all adhered to back in college mattered. He knew it did.

“Look, Max, we were screwing around, and it got out of hand. She wanted me out of the apartment, and I wanted to make sure that dipshit didn’t have an opportunity to weasel his way back in.”

The frown etched into Max’s face went deeper. “I’m not seeing how your dick gets involved from there.”

“Right,” Sean admitted, not even sure himself how to connect all those dots without giving Max even more to worry about. Because Sean was pretty sure the only way big brother was able to sleep at night was believing his friends had blinders on when it came to Molly and that none of them had the slightest clue how fucking gorgeous or desirable she was. Or hell, maybe that she was a woman at all.

Clearing his throat, Sean nodded back toward the kitchen and started walking. He needed a beer.

Max hung back, then heaved a sigh and followed along. “You managing okay, staying in your parents’ place?”

Barely. Every damn night, he had to talk himself out of driving back to Molly’s and begging her to let him in. Not for a repeat of the night they’d had together. Hell, he knew better than that. What he wanted was just more Molly. He wanted to hang out. To kick back in that way he was only really comfortable enough to do with her. He wanted to see her smile and know the most important thing in his life was still as solid as ever.

But that wasn’t what Max had been asking. Sean shrugged and waved a hand at the showplace his parents called one of their homes. “What do you think?”

Max stopped beside a Victorian settee in shades of white matching the rest of the decor and shuddered.

“Exactly.”

In the kitchen, Sean pulled a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge and handed Max one before propping a hip against the white marble-topped island. Explanation time.

“She thought the best way to get me out of the apartment was to freak me out by pretending to flirt with me.” It wasn’t the whole truth—it wasn’t even most of it—but it was the part Sean could give Max.

Max’s expression grew steely, and Sean rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get on her case about it, Max. It worked. I freaked.” Not exactly for the reasons Max would believe, but whatever. “Only you know how it is with me and Moll. I wasn’t about to let her win.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say that he probably should have, because he didn’t even want to think about the idea of not having shared what he had with Molly. Of not knowing about that last layer of the friendship between them.

“So, what are you saying?” Max prompted, sounding almost hopeful as he asked, “You got a bone to one-up her?”

What?

“No, I got a bone because she crawled into my lap, and she’s fucking beautiful,” he snapped back before he’d thought about the filter he might have used.

But Max seemed to have missed the urgent truth in his delivery and nodded. “She got to you.”

More than he’d ever let on. “Yeah, but we both realized the line we’d crossed and took steps to ensure it didn’t happen again.” And this is where it got dicey. Because while that much was true, the omissions that followed—about the failure of those steps and just how far past the line they’d ended up going—made this conversation a lie. But it had to be done. “Dude, this isn’t something you need to worry about. Molly and I have got it figured out. We’re past it, so go home to your wife before she tosses your clothes from the honeymoon onto the front grass.”

Max stared a minute longer until he finally nodded, the furrow between his eyes smoothing. “Okay, man. If you guys are good, then I’m good. I know you’d never do that shit with Molly—treat her the way you treat those other women. Just had to ask anyway.”

Sean clapped him on the shoulder, covering the sick feeling in his gut with a practiced smile. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more…that he’d essentially lied to a guy he thought of like a brother or the idea of Molly being lumped in with any of the women Sean had spent the night with, despite the fact that he’d never been anything but respectful, up-front, and—he’d like to believe—good to them.

Molly didn’t belong anywhere near that group of casual encounters, because that’s not what she was to him. She was critical, not casual.

* * *

It shouldn’t be this easy between them, but a week after he’d moved out, Sean still couldn’t scrape together a single regret about the night he’d spent with Molly. Even moving out wasn’t the end of the world. He’d gotten rid of the freeloader. Paid Molly for a full month of living there. And as it stood, they were closer than ever.

Temptation eliminated. Mostly.

“Hey, man.” Jase greeted him with a fist bump at the front door to his place. “Glad you made it.”

“Sorry for the holdup. Dad decided to cut his trip short, and every time they change their plans, it throws a world of shit out of whack.”

Jase grunted in that way that suggested he knew exactly what Sean meant. He got it.

Cutting straight back to the kitchen, Sean bit back what he wanted to know most. Whether Molly was there already. He’d have his answer in less than ten seconds, so whatever pressure was building in his chest, he ought to be able to handle it.

Fine, so maybe there had been a few residual effects of sleeping with Molly.

She was on his mind more and, admittedly, in a way she hadn’t been before. He’d been inside her, heard her moan his name, and felt her come apart for him. But aside from needing to talk his dick down from time to time when he thought about what they’d done or when he accidentally on purpose stumbled across that photo Molly had brought to him from the back alley—the one he was supposed to have deleted but hadn’t quite managed to—there was this other thing happening too. A need to talk to her…more. To hear her laugh. To touch her and see for himself that there wasn’t anything broken or hurt in her eyes. That what they’d done hadn’t cost him something immeasurably precious.

Laughter bubbled over the sounds and scents emanating from the kitchen, and that pressure in his chest instantly eased, replaced by something warm and easy.

Molly.

She was there.

As he stepped through the wide cutout doorway, their eyes met across the room, sending a satisfied pulse through his system. Her smile stretched wide as she nodded toward Emily and Brody, who were shoulder to shoulder, each whisking some kind of sauce while exchanging backhanded compliments about the other’s product.

“Tell me this means what I think it means,” Sean pleaded, rubbing his hands together.

Molly nodded, an eager smile lighting her face. “Oh yeah. The taste-off is on. Emily is challenging Brody’s mustard cream sauce.” Edging out from behind the cooks, Molly shimmied around Jase and stopped beside Sean, leaving an inch of space between them. An inch he couldn’t leave alone.

Leaning in to her so their arms brushed, he waited for it. The slow shift of her eyes meeting his, the flicker of a smile that was only about them. The relief he shouldn’t need to feel. And yeah, the pull of an attraction he could only manage as easily as he was because of how completely she’d fallen back into their routine.

Whatever had gone haywire between them was shut down, at least from her side. Which made it a hell of a lot easier to keep his side in check. Thoughts were one thing, but those impulses weren’t getting off the leash.

A commitment totally reinforced when Max and Sarah showed up a few minutes later.

“Let’s see those tan lines,” Emily urged, abandoning her sauce to greet the newlyweds, who’d been back for almost a week but hadn’t been able to meet up with everyone until that night. Though Sean had seen them both, Sarah because she’d become something of his right hand at Wyse, and Max because of his little visit on the way back in from the airport.

Donning a pair of ovenproof mitts, Brody hunkered down in front of the oven, coming back up with a broiler pan loaded with juicy medallions of perfectly charred steak.

“Rare all around, yes?” he asked, not actually listening for an answer, because Brody had a knack for remembering everyone’s tastes the way Sean had a knack with numbers.

Sarah was leaning forward over the counter, looking like her nose had led her. “That’s it, Max. I’m throwing you back and running off with Brody.”

Emily was moving a stack of small white plates from the counter to the island. “Yeah, Brody knows his way around a choice piece of meat, but after you taste my sauce over it, you’ll be begging me for a three-way.”

Molly leaned back into Sean’s space, her shoulder meeting his chest as she grinned back at him, eyes gleaming.

He knew exactly what she was thinking. Emily hated to lose more than any person he’d ever met. She was physically incapable of not competing, and it was hilarious.

A flick of Molly’s eyes toward Jase, and Sean gave her a nod. He’d seen it. While Max was aspirating his beer over Emily’s quasi proposition, Jase was sitting there nodding, with that same smacked look of love on his face he’d had since Em had agreed to marry him. Agreeing to a three-way his wife hadn’t even offered to include him in. Over a sauce.

Damn, he loved these guys. Slinging his arm around Molly’s shoulder, Sean pulled her closer. She smelled like coconut, and when his thoughts veered to how she’d smelled like coconut everywhere, he pulled her closer still, reminding himself about what was really important.

* * *

Two weeks later, Molly was huffing and puffing after the four-block sprint from the Armitage L stop. Her last Brandt Housekeeping job for the morning had asked her to stay after she’d finished cleaning to talk about a friend who was interested in getting on Molly’s wait list. It had cost her most of the time she’d budgeted for lunch with Emily and Sarah, but they still needed to get some planning in for the camping trip, so she’d been hustling.

Pushing through the front door, she waved to Jill by the till. Then catching sight of the girls at a four-seater in the main bar, she headed over.

“Sorry I’m late,” Molly apologized, quickly weaving through the tail end of Belfast’s lunch crowd to where Emily and Sarah were already done with their meals.

Looking around, she caught one of the servers’ eyes, giving a nod toward the empty plates before sliding into her open seat. She wasn’t on for another hour, but she’d been around as long as Brody, and whether she was working or not, when she was in the bar, the staff tended to look to her first.

“What, did you run here?” Sarah teased, pushing her water in front of Molly.

“Feels like I’m running everywhere these days.” Molly laughed, shaking her head at the offered glass, figuring she’d have her own in a matter of minutes. “Sorry I missed lunch.”

“That stinks, but we totally get it,” Emily assured her, and Molly knew she meant it.

If anyone understood about work demands, it was these two. Even if they were working in high-rise corner offices and Molly was down on her knees scrubbing the corners of Gold Coast homes, they were all ambitious women who understood goals.

“How many employees are you up to?” Sarah asked, straightening her silk blouse as she sat back.

“Twelve, but I’ve got a couple of prospects, and if they work out, it’ll bring me up to fifteen. Which would be great, because it’s killing me to turn down customers.”

If she wanted to, she could hire the staff she needed by the afternoon, but she wouldn’t risk the reputation she’d worked so hard to build on people she couldn’t vouch for personally. Her plans were long term and depended on consistent revenue streams. Satisfied clients were the key.

Emily nodded and picked up her phone. “So what do you think? Should we start figuring out the logistics for the trip?”

Molly grabbed her own phone, bringing up the calendar. The trip was still two weeks away, which would have been two weeks more time than she needed to plan if they were camping like they had when it was just her, Max, and Sean.

They’d have decided to go at five and left at six, and it would have been perfect.

And while planning wasn’t Molly’s favorite part, she loved how their group had grown and how every new addition brought something wonderful to their experience. So change was good.

Phones out, Sarah and Emily were a blur of thumbs, looking things up and taking notes on games, food, and drinks. Then breaking down each of those categories—not just into meals, but snacks, appetizers, and late-night snacks with alternatives based on whether it was warm or rainy. Because you didn’t want to be making s’mores if it was pouring.

“I know we just had our honeymoon, and that vacation was spectacular,” Sarah said, a dreamy expression on her face. “But the buildup to the wedding was so intense, and there’ve been a million things to do since we got back. Max and I are really looking forward to a weekend off the grid.”

“Jase too,” Emily added, her brows furrowing in concentration as her thumbs sped across the screen of her phone. “Do we know if Brody confirmed the campsites again?”

Molly laughed, because Emily took everything so seriously. To her, this camping trip was being handled the way she handled a promo spot for one of her campaigns.

“I’ll double-check with him,” Molly promised. Then thought better of it. “Forget that. Let’s just find out.”

Five minutes later, she’d grabbed Brody from the back. When they were all settled at the table, he slapped down a pad of paper in front of them and started scribbling notes. While the rest of the world would be using their phones, Molly imagined those thick fingers of Brody’s couldn’t make more than the simplest texting very easy.

“I’d been planning to get organized next weekend, but since you girls are all here and your lesser halves tend toward last-minute preparations, let’s work it all out ourselves.”

“Speaking of lesser halves,” Emily sang, leaning in toward Molly. “Think you and Sean will be able to share a tent without another boner incident to report?”

Sarah chuckled lightly. “God, I hope so. I don’t think I can handle a replay of the groin-to-groin contact that nearly blew my husband’s head off during our honeymoon.”

Molly froze where she was, her iced tea halfway to her mouth, a sense of dread spooling through her stomach. “You okay, Moll?” Brody asked, looking over his phone, then turning it to show Emily the picture of the new tent he’d ordered. Thankfully, neither of them was paying too much attention, because Molly felt like she’d just swallowed a frog. She’d been working overtime to remind herself that Sean was not her other half. The two of them together did not make a whole. And yet on some level, even their friends saw her and Sean as another couple within this group.

Things had been going smoothly with Sean. He seemed to have gotten past their night together without a glitch. And she was getting there. Absolutely. But suddenly, those two weeks she had until she was sharing a tent with him didn’t seem like much time at all.

* * *

Mature adult men didn’t throw tantrums about their parents bugging them. But Sean was about to blow a gasket if his didn’t exit his office, his sanctuary, in the next thirty seconds. They were driving him nuts, going on about who would represent Wyse for this commitment or that. How dreadful some coming event would be, but how it was their responsibility to attend regardless. Obligations that couldn’t be avoided, and opportunities to advance relationships.

None of it was new.

Sean had been participating in conversations like this one, and doing so without complaint, from the time he was twelve. But in almost twenty years, this was the first time the conversation felt truly old.

It was the first time he felt as if every second that ticked past was another second lost.

Finally, he snapped. “Every year, we attend that dinner, and every year, it’s a complete waste of time. I say we decline.” When he was met with silence, he pressed, “Why not?”

His mother sat neatly folded at the edge of her seat across the low coffee table, looking at him like she didn’t know who he was. When she deigned to answer, it was only to say, “Appearances, Sean. That is why.”

Of course. He shouldn’t have asked when he already knew.

It was just that everything felt off with him lately. His fuse was just a little shorter, his patience taxed just that much. It was as if he had the constant sense he ought to be somewhere else.

Even the office wasn’t the balm it once was…and he loved work. He loved the Wyse.

Hell, he loved his family, but in that moment, his mother’s voice was hitting him like nails down a blackboard.

Enough of this. “Fine, whatever you decide. Copy Carson on the schedule, and I’ll make it work.”

The sun was setting, and he could see the elongated shadows falling across the Drive from his window. By his standards, it was still pretty early, but he wanted out.

“Are we about done for the night?” Sean rose from his seat on the couch with purpose and headed back to his desk.

“Are we keeping you from a meeting?” his father asked, sinking farther back into his chair. “I thought Carson said your schedule was clear.”

Sean closed his eyes and drew an even breath. “No meeting.”

“Dinner plans, then?” his mother probed.

“No dinner plans either. I was going to head over to the gym. I’ve missed a few days this week and could use a good workout.” He could use about two hours to burn off some of this pent-up whatever-the-hell-it-was that had gotten into him. He’d swim and then hit the weights, and if he wasn’t on a more even keel when he was done with that, there was always the treadmill. Or maybe he could head over to Belfast and say hi to Molly. And Brody. Molly and Brody.

“So the work on your apartment is finished?” his mother asked, and Sean suddenly wondered if he was being an ass.

Maybe his parents were just looking for an opportunity to talk with him. To spend some time as a family, and this was the only way they knew how. Things hadn’t really been right since everything had come out about his father and—

“We were relieved when you came to your senses about that Molly situation,” his mother added, her eyes locked on him as if she was studying his face for a reaction.

The muscles down his spine started to knot. He would definitely be hitting the treadmill.

And if his mother was waiting for a reaction, she wasn’t going to get it. After all, Sean had been schooling his emotions for appearances’ sake since he was old enough to walk.

He began flipping through a report Sarah had left for him, and after a moment, his father stood. “We had lunch with Valerie this afternoon. Did you know she was back from Rome?”

“No.” He hadn’t known she’d left.

“Well, she is,” his mother stated, standing. She straightened her skirt and adjusted the heavy gold bracelet at her wrist. “She made some exceptional connections while she was there. You ought to set something up this week.” Then, meeting his eyes, she added, “She’s still receptive, Sean.”

That tension that had been ratcheting tighter and tighter down his spine suddenly released, and he took a deep, easy breath. He smiled a genuine smile at his mother and rolled up his sleeves. “You know, I think I’ll call her tonight.”

The sharpness of his mother’s features softened, making her look more like the woman she’d been to him growing up. The woman who was so proud of his efforts to follow in his father’s footsteps.

That softer side of his mom was nice.

He just wasn’t sure it was entirely real anymore.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, Sean was seated in the back corner of a mostly empty coffee shop with Valerie across from him. Her hair fell in immaculate glossy waves to a few inches past her shoulders, and her clothes looked like her personal shoppers probably earned enough in commissions to buy their own summer place in the Hamptons. It was no mystery why his parents had pinned their hopes on this woman.

Valerie laughed, recounting the hard press his parents had given her at lunch, and sat back in her chair, smiling over her espresso at him. “I must admit, Sean, I was surprised you called.”

He nodded, setting his own coffee aside. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. I imagine your calendar is booked for months.”

She laughed politely, but he knew from when they’d dated it was true. “It was easy enough to push my dinner plans back.”

“David?” he asked, remembering he’d seen her and Stanthorpe in the paper not too far back.

She shook her head. “Alan Ryder.”

Right. He knew the name. “Serious?”

“I suppose it could be.”

The answer was just ambiguous enough to leave the door open, validating his decision to contact her. “Valerie, I’ve been reconsidering my stance on marriage, and with the somewhat open-ended way we’ve left things”—and considering his parents’ conversation with her at lunch—“I thought you deserved to know.”

It was time to close the door.