“Wouldn’t miss it,” Courtney says, sincere but careful.
With Beckett’s hand still resting at my back, I smile, nod, and let the conversation drift where it wants.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Grady,” Beckett says, reaching around me to shake Noah’s mother’s hand.
“Likewise.” She takes his hand in both of hers, smiling like they’re old friends. “I’ve heard so much about you. Luna says you do investment planning?”
“Broker,” Beckett replies, smooth and practiced.
Mrs. Grady lights up. “Perfect! Courtney and I have been dabbling a bit—looking at ways to expand the real estate business into some broader offerings. It’s mostly research for now, but we’re serious about it.”
Courtney, standing just behind her, chimes in with a nod. “We’ve been watching the market closely—trying to figure out the safest sectors, the biggest risks, that kind of thing.”
Mrs. Grady’s eyes sharpen, her tone still casual but clearly informed. “Which firm are you with?”
“Midtown.”
“Impressive,” Courtney jumps in. “Hopefully they’re not one of the firms caught up in the Aurum Micro mess?”
Aurum Micro.Where have I heard that name before?
“Not at all.” Beckett’s smile dims—just a fraction—before resetting. “We handle mostly mid-cap portfolios.”
I glance at him, but keep my expression neutral. Midtown must have dropped them. It would explain the end of the bonus checks.
Mrs. Grady hums thoughtfully. “I’ll have to pick your brain this week. My clients are getting antsy, and Courtney keeps saying we’re missing opportunities.”
Beckett chuckles, smooth as ever, though his fingers are thrumming against his leg.
Then Courtney turns to me. “Luna says you’ve been her rock through all of this planning.” Her smile stays easy. “You’ve been through it yourself, after all—though it’s been a while. How long have you and Beckett been married?”
She’s smiling. Friendly. Nothing more than that.
“Forever,” I say.
Beckett’s hand has been on my waist this entire time, but now he pulls me closer. “Fifteen years next month,” he adds, his breath caressing the side of my face. “High school sweethearts. She used to write our names in Sharpie on her Converse.”
“You must both have been so young,” Courtney says.
“Ash was just a sophomore, I was a senior.”
“And you’ve been together ever since?”
Beckett turns to meet my eyes. “Pretty much.”
“Aww, that’s so cute! You both are so lucky.”
“Oh, luck had very little to do with it. She made me chase her,” he says. “Which was fair. She was always smarter than me.” Wait, what? “Still is. I don’t know how she does it—manage the boys, keep the house together, and still get her own business off the ground.”
My chest tightens.
Where is this coming from? Why now?
Then, he leans closer and—before I can decide what to do about it, if anything—there’s the warm press of his mouth against my hair. Light. Familiar.
My heart lurches, caught completely off guard by not just the affection, but because…
Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like he’s pretending.
