It’s none of their business.
Fuck them for putting me in this position.
“Suit yourself,” Larissa says, exchanging a grin with my brother. “But may I remind you that you’re getting old. You might wanna settle down and have kids while you still can.”
“What?” I ask, my jaw dropping for her benefit.
She laughs. “Thanks for the tickets. I’ll see you two later.”
“Bye,” Oliver calls after her.
I give her a wave before heading back to my desk.
My heart pounds in my chest as I sit back at my seat and overtly ignore my phone. I rifle through my drawer as if I’m searching for the meaning to life when, in reality, I’m just searching for my fucking sense.
This situation shouldn’t screw with my head like this.
But my whole family shouldn’t know about Blaire, either.
It’s not a big deal, and even if I wanted to bring her to the concert, what would it matter? Would it really be that different than if I’d bring Daphne Monroe or some other debutante?
I pull out a peppermint, then slip the wrapper off and pop it into mymouth. My mind tries to rationalize the last few minutes when I lift my head and my eyes meet Oliver’s.
He’s staring at me with a smug smile on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He shrugs and looks back down at his papers. “You’re just so full of shit.”
Before I can respond—before I can get my head wrapped around what he’s insinuating I’m full of shit about, exactly—Rosie knocks on the door. Her head pokes around the corner.
“Boys, Graham Landry is in the conference room,” she says.
“We’ll be right there,” I tell her.
She nods and disappears, pulling the door softly behind her.
Oliver shuffles his papers into a neat stack. “I need to get one more file from my office before we go in.”
“You go ahead,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you there in five.”
He nods and disappears out the door too.
I tuck my tie in my jacket once again before pulling at the knot around my neck. I’m not sure if it’s too tight today or if my office is unusually warm. Either way, it’s uncomfortable.
My lungs fill with air as I step around my desk. But before I can get all the way to the other side, my gaze falls on my phone.
I stop.
Blaire: No worries. I get it.
“No worries, huh?” I mutter.
Shaking my head, I pick up the phone and glance at the clock. After a quick mental calculation, my fingers fly across the keypad.
Me: I apologize for bailing on you today. I should’ve called. Meet me at The Carriage House tonight at six. It’s on Harrison Street. I’ll make it up to you.
Before she can respond, I turn my phone off and toss it on my desk.
