Trinity

Max Henderson lives in a fancy penthouse in Lincoln Park and his rooftop—to which he has exclusive access—is the location for one of those meet-all-my-friends, we-might-be-a-couple cookouts.

“Wow!” I say, sounding like a complete rube.

“Yeah, wow is about right.” Lucas grins and puts an arm around my waist. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks.” In this red halter dress, I feel pretty stunning. The night is magical, the rooftops of Chicago bathed in the orange-pinks of the setting sun. Of course, Lucas manages to outshine me and the sun in a pair of rolled-up pale blue chinos, a teal blazer over a white tee, and a fedora. It’s Miami Vice meets Bruno Mars and it totally works.

“You must be Trinity.” A bubbly blonde approaches with Max in tow. “I’m Charlie. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too. You look a little familiar—the Gilt Bar? I used to work there. Now I’m in the basement, which doesn’t sound like a step up, but is.” I’m babbling, nervous at meeting Lucas’s friends officially.

“Right, I’ve been there a couple of times.” Charlie and Max exchange grins. “Good place to pick up a guy.”

I snort. “I wouldn’t say that. The guys who frequent that place are mostly douche bags.”

“Yeah, but excellent tippers,” Max offers.

“Excellent tippers are in the eye of the tippee,” I tease.

Charlie lets loose with a boisterous laugh. “Lucas, honey, this one’s a keeper.”

“She doesn’t want to be kept,” Lucas says. “One of those independent types you’re always hearing about.”

I elbow him gently and he squeezes me tighter to his side. For the last couple of weeks, we’ve been living in my happy place, though every now and then, a little voice tries to prick the bubble of sex and comfort Lucas and I are creating: What would Emily think if she knew?

I’ve become expert in shoving that voice down deep. Surely she wouldn’t begrudge me a few moments of joy.

That’s the word, isn’t it? Joy. Lucas soaks me in it, and fleeting though it might be, I want to hold on to it. To him.

Charlie takes my hand. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“What about me?” Lucas asks.

“Keg’s over there, heathen.”

I think I’m going to like Lucas’s friends.

At the bar, a bartender is on hand to dispense. Everyone’s drinking Pimm’s like we’re at a royal wedding, so I go with the flow and take one myself.

“Oh, hello,” I hear in a smooth, moneyed voice. Aubrey appears, looking like Snow White’s wicked twin just blown in from the Hamptons. “So you and Lucas decided to get down and dirty, to hell with the consequences?”

“Aubrey,” Charlie says in a tone that sounds like a warning.

“I don’t mean that you shouldn’t,” Aubrey says, taking a big gulp of wine. I shouldn’t judge, but I wonder if it’s her second or third glass. Being in the biz, I recognize that slightly unfocused look. “It’s just Lucas was a little worried about the ethics thing.”

“Well, he got a waiver so everything’s aboveboard.”

“Oh, sounds serious.” Charlie lowers her voice. “I’m guessing he wouldn’t go to all that trouble if it was just a fling.”

My heart takes flight, but the engine stalls midair. “Oh no. We’re just having fun.”

“With the lawyer representing your sister’s soon-to-be ex?” Aubrey again, cutting through my mealy mouthed defense with the sharpness of a saber. Gorgeous white teeth gnashing. Designer stilettos stomping. “That’s not a fling. That’s a conscious coupling.”

This sends us all gawking at Lucas, who’s laughing about something with Max, Grant, and a pretty redhead. Lucas spots us staring and tips his hat in my direction, with a hammy wink the bonus.

“Now he knows we’re talking about him.” I call over to him. “We’re lamenting your fashion sense. Nothing else.”

“As long as I’m being discussed, that’s all that matters!”

I giggle stupidly, conscious that I’ve never been a giggler, but with Lucas, all bets are off. At the sight of the girls watching this exchange with interest, I abruptly stop.

“Aubrey’s right, you know,” Charlie muses. “If it was just sex, would you go to that much trouble? Risk pissing off loved ones or ethics boards just to get your rocks off?”

“Well…I don’t know…possibly…” This is all very pointed and personal, considering I barely know them. Once we decided to go all in, Lucas and I have made a conscious effort not to talk about my sister or the kids. At first, it felt weird, like this void that needed filling because they’re such a huge part of my life. Who am I without them? But Lucas made it easy, keeping the focus on me. It turns out I have plenty to say that doesn’t require twittering on about my family. Who knew?

“Your sister’s okay with it?” Aubrey again, and I hear compassion for my dilemma in her voice.

“I haven’t told her yet.” I figured it would be over before I had to even bring it up. Yes, that’s my plan. Have my fun, part amicably, then never breathe a word of my betrayal to Emily.

I had a similar conversation with Gideon and Pete earlier this week. Gid thinks I should tell Emily because secrets have a way of bubbling to the surface like a bloated, fish-ravaged body. (The man has a melodramatic streak.) Pete thinks…oh hell, Pete thinks the same. And they never agree on anything. I’m so happy they’ve found this cause to unite them.

But when it comes to Lucas and “the end,” I don’t want to part amicably. I don’t want to part at all. This is something for me. Why should I have to bow down to Emily on this issue? Hasn’t she already taken enough from me?

Holy balls, where did that come from? I’m happy to help my sister out. She needs me.

The silence has gone on too long. Charlie lays a hand on my arm.

“Don’t mind us. We’re awfully nosy and we love assigning huge significance to things we shouldn’t. We’ve only just met and you’re a guest and I can’t believe we were all up in your business.”

“Speaking of all up in someone’s business, who’s that?” Aubrey uses her now-empty glass to motion toward Lucas’s group.

“Kelly,” Charlie says, biting her lip. “I think Grant’s taken her out a couple of times.”

“Must like her if he’s bringing her to meet the gang.” There’s an undeniable sadness in her voice and I can’t help checking in with Charlie to see if she’s also heard it.

I’m not wrong. Charlie’s expression is filled with sympathy. “Maybe you should think about dating yourself. It’s been, what, a year since your divorce?”

Oh. I slide a look to Grant and the redhead. Awkward.

Aubrey looks wistful. “Maybe I’ll just fuck the bartender.” This is said loudly enough for several people, including the bartender and Grant, to hear.

Instead of scowling as I think most guys would do in the presence of their slightly tipsy ex mouthing off in an embarrassing way, Grant merely smiles at Aubrey. A secretive curve of his lips.

Two spots of color appear high on Aubrey’s cheeks and she mutters, “Prick.” She turns to us: “What’s the drop off this roof? Two hundred feet? Three hundred?”

Laughing, Charlie pats Aubrey on the arm. “Let’s get you something to eat, and Trinity, I want to hear all about these Whiskey, Women, and Song events. I might be able to help you out there.”

I’m fairly famished myself, but I’m stopped from partaking by a strong set of arms encircling me, breath hot against my ear. “Ms. Jones, this party was a terrible idea.”

“It was?”

“I just want to ravish you and all these bloody people are in the way.”

I push my ass back against him, slotting into the concave space of his body. Fitting perfectly.

“I don’t mind. Ravish away.”

His chuckle is warm and as usual, gives me life. “So, did the girls subject you to the third degree?”

I turn in his arms. “A little. They seem to think it must be very serious between us because we’re risking things. Reputation, jobs, family relationships.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told them cougars do whatever’s necessary to get their kicks.”

“Still not putting a label on it?”

I shoot for nonchalance. “It’s kind of early for that.”

“Is it? Maybe you doubt my sincerity. Or maybe you think I’m not a relationship sort of bloke.”

Maybe I do, on both counts. I’m not used to this lavish attention, and that’s what it feels like: excessive and indulgent. Since we met, Lucas has been bending over backward to woo me. Doubts slam through me. Perhaps I’m just a novelty for him—it wouldn’t be the first time a guy has shown interest in me because it checks off some box for him.

I look up through my lashes to find Lucas frowning. “Where’d you go?”

“Oh, nowhere.”

“Hmm.” Before I realize what’s happening, Lucas is standing on a wicker sofa, waving like a madman. “Can I have your attention, everyone?”

Max frowns. “Wright, get your big feet off my very expensive furniture.”

“In a minute, Mr. Trust Fund. So, I just wanted to thank Max for inviting everyone over, though I suspect we should be thanking Charlie, because she’s obviously the organizational brains of the operation.”

Charlie raises her glass in thanks. She’s a wedding planner by trade, which is a fun match for a divorce attorney, for sure.

“So, cheers, Charlie,” Lucas continues. “And thanks for taking on this stuck-in-a-rut for a boyfriend. Also, don’t leave him hanging for too long regarding getting hitched. I for one am tired of his whining about how he can’t persuade you. Just say yes!”

“Jesus, Lucas,” Max mutters while everyone hoots their appreciation.

A blushing Charlie draws an imaginary zip across her lips.

This makes Lucas laugh. “You mean you don’t want to be forced into a public acceptance of a proposal like some crappy movie? Not a romantic bone, you bloody tossers!” He turns to me, his smile devilish. I brace myself for more Lucas inanity. “Now, some of you might have met my date for this cookout, Trinity Jones. She happens to be a whiskey expert, so if you’re looking for a hot woman to tell you all about how your alcohol tastes like bird droppings with top notes of vanilla, she’s available for parties.” More laughter. “But if you’re looking for a hot woman for other things, like maybe a few dirty things…” The word dirty is a low rumble of sex. “Or even things that aren’t dirty, then Trinity Jones is not the woman for you. Because she’s the woman for me. She’s taken, and I just want that to be clear. Hands off!”

He hops down from the sofa, his eyes fixed to mine. It’s breath-stealing. Then he gathers me in his arms and claims me physically, just as he did with his words a moment ago. People clap, the sound of laughter and joy a-buzz in my ears as Lucas fills me up.

His nose nuzzles mine. “Too much?”

“Far too much.”

“Good.”

Lucas

“A stripper pole?” I cast some serious side-eye at Trinity. “Really?”

“Not for women to strip in your living room, but for your own dance routines.”

“Of course.” We’re walking through the Lincoln Park neighborhood, on our way back to my place, about ten minutes from where Max lives. Trinity has never visited, so she’s trying to guess at what she’ll find.

“Oh, I know. A cozy of weird teapots that only British people would have.”

“Is cozy the collective noun for teapots?”

“It should be, don’t you think?” She laughs, her imagination running riotous circles. “Ooh! Fifty pairs of board shorts. Each pattern more outrageous than the last.”

“Getting closer.”

She laughs again and squeezes my hand. It’s comforting and sexy at once, that hand squeeze. The full-linkage hand meld, each of my fingers interlaced with hers.

“What are you smiling at?” she asks.

“Our hands. They look amazing together.”

She lifts our joined hands between us and examines them, turning them to get a good view of all the angles. I think of Lizzie’s fingers, cool and stripped of life.

“They look good,” Trinity murmurs. “You’re a superlatives kind of guy. Me, I’m happy with good.”

“Better than good.”

I mean us. Her mouth wobbles beautifully as she holds the smile. After my declaration to the group, I’m not sure if I’ve scared her off or brought her closer. Maybe a little of both.

Tonight I have a late flight to London and I’d like to tell Trinity about Lizzie before I go. I’m nervous to share, but not nearly as much as I thought I’d be. We continue on our way, enjoying the sun coming from both inside and out.

“Shit,” she says as we turn down the block where I live. Her entire body tenses all the way down to where we’re joined. A blond woman is walking toward us in workout gear, a slouchy bag over her shoulder, and while I’ve never met her I know who she is.

Emily Carson.

Recognition makes Emily’s eyes fly wide. They expand to saucer width on seeing Trinity’s hand in mine.

Ripping her hand away, Trinity speaks first. “Ems, I can explain.”

“Oh really?” She gives me a cursory once-over, verifies I’m who she thinks I am, and turns back to her sister. “This—this—are you kidding with this, Trinity? He’s trying to destroy me!”

And I thought I had a flair for the dramatic. “Mrs. Carson,” I start, only to be glared into silence by Emily’s raised hand. Seriously. She gave me the hand.

“Well, you’re obviously busy,” she says to Trinity, and flounces off, her high ponytail bobbing.

“Emily!” Trinity calls after her, then to me: “I have to talk to her.”

“Might be better to let her cool off.”

“No. I have to fix this now.”

I don’t like the sound of that. Fixing might not be so beneficial to me, and my next words sound on the wrong side of desperate. “If she tells you to stop seeing me, will you?”

“That—she wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“It’s not a fair question. I need to talk to her.”

Maybe she’s right. It’s not fair, and it’s not fair of me to ask her to choose a side. Yet she took a risk getting involved with me. Clearly she never planned for it to go this far. I was only meant to be that one-shot deal to resolve all that sexual tension. I understand that.

Still I can’t resist pulling her close. I want her to know things. To know me. Not Lucas with his stripper pole and teapots and board shorts collection (metaphors, you know what I mean!). But Lucas with his heart on the cusp of breaking twice a month as he makes a lonely trek to London and back. Lucas who wants something he probably doesn’t deserve but is going to fight for it anyway because he’s an ornery bastard underneath all that cheer.

“Come back to me,” I say, not caring that I sound pathetic.

I watch the swallow of her hesitation as it makes her elegant neck bulge. “I’ll call you later.”