“No. You’re not,” I state flatly.
Something akin to understanding flashes in his eyes, and they spark with amusement as he opens his mouth.
But I’m not about to answer questions about my feelings toward Hallie to anyone. Especially Frankie.
A flash of red approaching catches the corner of my eye, and I take a calculated step at the perfect moment, causing the young woman to swerve to avoid me.
She crashes straight into Frankie’s chest with a surprised gasp.
“My apologies,” I say.
“Be more careful, Sterling,” Frankie scolds as he steadies the blonde. “You almost knocked into this stunning woman.”
“Katie,” she pants, batting her eyelashes at Frankie.
“Katie,” he repeats. “What a beautiful name.” He feigns a look of concern that’s as fake as a Canal street purse. “We should get you some water. You’ve had a shock. Allow me to help you. You don’t feel lightheaded, do you?”
“No.” She giggles, drinking up his attention.
“We need to make sure.” He slides his hand around her wrist, cupping it with his fingers pressed against her skin. “Just as I thought. Your pulse is racing. You need to lie down. Come with me. I’ll take you to the medical room.”
He wraps his arm around her and throws a shit-eating grin over his shoulder at us as he leads her away.
“Bye, gentlemen,” he calls.
Lawson chuckles. “That fucker.”
“She didn’t seem to mind,” Sullivan clips as he joins us.
“Sorry, Son,” I murmur.
He shrugs, not even glancing at the woman who had her eyes all over him earlier as she walks away with Frankie. He pulls out his phone and checks it.
“Don’t be. Arabella’s watching Molly. I want to get home.”
“She still getting into bed with you?”
His face softens as he looks at the picture of Molly in a cat onesie that’s his screensaver.
“We both get more sleep that way.”
“Caving in to demands when she’s not even three. Just wait until she’s a teenager.” I chuckle, tension leaving my body as a rare, genuine smile transforms my son’s face.
“Like you didn’t do it with the three of us.” His smile falters as he realizes what he’s just said.
“True.” I clasp him on the shoulder. “I did. And I’d give anything to get to do it again. God knows I would.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t we all.” He slides his phone into the inner pocket of his dinner jacket. “I have some people to speak to, then I’m heading out. I’ve already sent Sinclair home to sleep it off. I called Denver to collect her.”
“Okay. Thanks, Son.”
I don’t push to talk about his comment. He won’t thank me if I do. Sullivan rarely mentions what happened. It’s the way he chooses to deal with it.
“No problem. It’s not like she has a car to drive herself, even if she hadn’t been drinking.”
“True,” I murmur.
Sinclair’s car is in the workshop having another few hundred thousand crystals replaced after she banged it again. I wish she’d get herself something more practical. But if it makes her happy, then I don’t have the heart to persuade her otherwise.
