Claudette’s laughter had faded into something more dangerous. I recognized that glint in her eye. The one that meant she was about to make my life significantly worse.
“Actually,” she said, far too casually, “there is someone.”
“Claudette.” I shot her a warning look.
She ignored it completely. “There’s a woman Jack’s been in love with for years. He just can’t seem to win her over.”
My mother leaned forward, interest sharpening. “Someone? Jack, what’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.”
“Her name is Pauline,” Claudette continued, because apparently sisterly loyalty meant nothing to her. “Yes, she’s the Pauline you know. Jack’s been pining for her since college. He bought an entire company just to be near her.”
“That’s not why I bought it.”
“It’s exactly why you bought it.”
My father’s hand landed on my shoulder. Heavy. Solid. When I looked at him, he was almost smiling.
“A challenge,” he said. “Good. The Specter men don’t go for easy conquests.”
“Father—”
“Let me tell you how I won your mother.”
I suppressed a groan. I’d heard this story a thousand times. The borrowed car. The forty-five minutes on her doorstep. The drive to the coast. The speech about not being good enough but wanting to spend his life trying anyway. It was romantic, I supposed, if you hadn’t been forced to listen to it at every family gathering for three decades.
“She turned me down six times,” my father was saying. “Six. But I knew she was the one, so I kept trying. Persistence, Jack. That’s what it takes.”
“Richard,” my mother murmured, but she was smiling. That soft, private smile she only wore when he told this story.
I glared at Claudette across the table.
“Don’t glare at my wife like that,” Michael said. I turned my attention on him.
“Don’t glare at my husband like that,” Claudette chirped.
“I’m never coming to dinner again,” I said. “Ever.”
My father clapped my shoulder again. “Step up your game, son. Specter men don’t give up.”
I looked around the table. My father, offering advice I hadn’t asked for. My mother, watching me with that knowing look. Claudette, smug and unrepentant. Michael, trying not to laugh.
My family. Who needed enemies when I had them.
My mind wandered to her. What was she doing at this moment? Having dinner probably. Or working. Or doing whatever she did when she wasn’t pushing me away.
She could get excited about a story. She could light up for her career. She just couldn’t do any of that for me.
Maybe she never would.
CHAPTER 12
Pauline
Jack Specter had been gonefor a week.
Not that I was keeping track. I just noticed—like you notice when the weather shifts or when the break-room coffee runs out. Monday came and went without him appearing on the executive floor, and then Tuesday followed, and Wednesday after that. The elevator stopped making my pulse jump every time it chimed. The building felt different without him prowling through it—quieter, somehow. Emptier.
