“It’s always been you, Faith.” The words fanned across her lips as he bent to kiss her, a velvety brush of his mouth against hers.
The struggle. The struggle not to fall. She trailed her fingers up his ribs and made one final effort to joke her way out of these dangerous emotional waters. “See? Such a softy.”
It worked. Leo started walking backward toward the bed, arms outstretched. “Nothing soft on me, Dutch.”
“Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ve got somethinghardfor me?” She didn’t have to fake much of the breathiness in her voice.
He raised his brows in an invitation. “Guess you’ll have to come over here and find out.”
So she did.
TWENTY-FIVE
Leo was standing on Faith’s doorstep. He was ringing the bell. He was walking through her front door.
Not her window. Her front door.
“Leo!” Faith’s mother greeted him from the entryway. “My goodness, you did grow up, didn’t you?”
She smiled at him, and although his fight-or-flight reflexes were engaged, he managed to return a pleasant enough greeting.
“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Fox.” She’d barely changed since he’d seen her last, and although her hair was more white-silver than blond-silver now, her eyes were still the same shade as her daughter’s.
“Call me Betsy. You’re not seventeen anymore. And don’t you look nice?” Her eyes swept down his tuxedo, which sure as hell better look nice. He’d actually bought the damn thing two weeks ago, reasoning that Digham threw fancy parties left and right, so he might as well be prepared.
Betsy smiled approvingly at him one more time. “I’ll tell Faithy you’re here. She’s just finishing getting ready.”
“Thank you,” he called after her as she started to climb one of the two staircases curving along opposite walls of the circular foyer.
Like Betsy, the white marble entryway hadn’t changed much since his last visit either, with footsteps and voices still echoing off every single hard surface. He paced in a slow circle, hoping to settle his racing pulse. When he’d asked Faith weeks ago if she wanted to come with him to the gala, he hadn’t expected their relationship to change quite so much in the meantime. And now they were sleeping together with no real conversation about what any of it meant. They’d agreed to act like colleagues tonight, but he was still jumpy as hell about being here now and going somewhere so fancy on her arm.
“Hello, son.”
Franklin appeared in a doorway to his left, and hoo boy, he thought his fight-or-flight was dialed up before? Now he was balanced on the balls of his feet and ready to run.
“Hello, sir,” he replied as neutrally as he could. Unlike her mother, Faith’s dad looked twelve years older than the night of her graduation party. He was heavier, and the hair left on his head was white and cottony. His soft face reflected a soft life, and he barely resembled the man who’d loomed so large in Leo’s memory for years.
“Join me for a drink?” He gestured Leo to follow him, so he joined Franklin at the wet bar in the corner of the sitting room. “Whiskey okay?”
“Please,” Leo said. “Just one though. I’m driving your daughter tonight.”
Franklin bobbed his head in approval and poured them both two fingers of amber liquid from a cut-crystal decanter. He handed Leo one of the glasses, and they sipped in silence. It was cold out, but this room was overheated. Or maybe his nerves were working overtime. Those same nerves were likely to blame for the words that came tumbling out of his mouth almost unbidden.
“I dreamed about punching you in the face for so long.”
He froze in horror as his blurted confession hung in the air between them, but after a stunned moment, Franklin barked a laugh.
“I felt exactly the same.” He raised his glass in a toast that Leo was eventually able to return once all his muscles unlocked. They both swallowed mouthfuls of the smoky drink before Franklin spoke again.
“If you ever have a daughter who announces that she’s found the love of her life at sixteen, you’ll feel the same.” He stared into his glass. “I realized too late that I should’ve let her make her own decisions.”
The older man’s forehead creased, his broad face shifting into a serious, almost pained expression as he met Leo’s eyes. “I’m sorry for not respecting you both enough to do that.”
Franklin shifted his glass to his left hand and stuck out his right, and it took Leo a long moment to realize that he was offering to shake his hand.
For a split second every single past grievance rushed back. How long had he dreamed of telling this old man that he could fuck right off for ruining his life? But the moment passed just as quickly. The truth was, Franklin hadn’t ruined Leo’s life, or Faith’s. They’d both gotten their educations and built their careers. Lived separate lives and grown into the people they were meant to be. Hell, Leo lived in a nicer house than he ever could’ve dreamed of as a kid because of the choices he’d made after high school, and he was in a tuxedo ready to take a spectacular woman to a black-tie event. He doubted any of that would’ve happened if he’d followed Faith to Evanston without any goals of his own.
Franklin had been a villain, but it sounded like he’d lost Faith for as many years as Leo himself had. If that wasn’t enough punishment, he didn’t know what was.
