On Sunday,Jobe and Zara arrive, their presence instantly filling the room with warmth. They embrace our mother, then me before Jobe settles into the seat beside me. A surge of emotion swells, a bittersweet ache, as I recall that he was the one who gave Brandon my address.
My family knows Byron’s standpoint on Brandon, and it’s far from a peaceful resolution. If Byron knew Brandon came to my home and it was Jobe’s doing, he would be pissed. And now I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. How easily I could have given myself to him. I’m hit with shame and then anger for being a fool. Every time I think about him, my body wants more, and I have to remind myself why I can’t have him.
“Are you okay?” Jobe places a gentle hand on my arm.
“A-ha.” I nod. “It’s been a week.”
His gentle brown eyes flick over my face, analyzing if I’m telling the truth. “It has. It’s been a lot for you.”
“Well, you could’ve thought about that before you took Walter’s side.”
“There wasn’t a side, Lottie. Only a win for the team, and you understand that,” he says gently.
“Yeah, I do. But I won’t open up that can of worms.”
“Charlotte, you sound upset?” my mother says with an uncertain tone.
I glance at Jobe and then at my mother. “No, I’m fine. I refuse to talk business at the table today.”
Mom tilts her head to the side. “Darling, I loathe business talk at the table, which is why I made the rule that everyone seems to break.” She gives Jobe a pointed look. “However…” she touches the pearls around her neck, “… before you leave, I would like to discuss, in private, some formalities for our next gala.”
Ugh. “Sure, Mom.”
My father enters the dining room with Franklin in tow, both with a crystal glass of the standard gold liquid on ice in their hands. He takes his seat at the head of the table while Franklin sits opposite me.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were all here,” my father says.
“Byron and Gigi are not here,” I say quickly. “Or Penny.”
“They’re upstairs with the children, helping Shelly get the younger ones to sleep,” Franklin says matter-of-factly.
“How was your week, Charlotte?” My father thrives on being informed about his family’s lives, including business. He directs the conversation around the table, with a desire to know what is happening in our world, like social media to a twenty-year-old.
“Hmm…” I glance at our mother. “It was all work, so…” I slide my finger across my lips like a zipper, “… can’t talk about it.”
Byron and Giana bound through the door with Pennylaughing behind them. If kids make people that happy, maybe I should have ten.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Byron pulls out the chair for Giana before he takes his seat beside Franklin.
“You didn’t,” I reply. “Since we’re not talking business and that was my entire week.”
Byron takes a seat and frowns at me.Here-we-go.“I think you need to fire someone in the laundry department.”
“I’ll deal with it.”
Byron leans forward. “So you know about it?”
“I heard something. I don’t have time at the moment, and we’re not discussing it now.”
He strums his fingers on the table, his gaze fixed on me, and my heart rate speeds up.
Goddammit, he knows.
“Giana, our guests love your artwork.” Thank God Zara diverts the attention away from me. “Especially the piece in the hotel foyer. Have you had any inquiries for commissions?”
“Yes, Abby said there are several emails, but I haven’t had a chance to respond.” She puffs out her cheeks like she is overcome with exasperation, her frustration barely concealed. “It’s on my list for tomorrow.”
“I hope I’m not overwhelming you by referring our hotel guests to you?”
