I’ve never seen anyone sit down as fast as Jørgen.
When I pour them water, he nearly knocks over his glass, his hands looking twice the size of the delicate carafe.
“Don’t be nervous,” Henry says quietly.
“Uh—”
“This is not a date.”
“What? Obviously I know that. Ha! Why would this be a date? That’s—ha ha. Funniest thing. A cheeky mucker, you are—or whatever you Brits say.”
Henry snorts.
“We certainly don’t say that.”
He puts a hand over Jørgen’s, and the man settles instantly. “Calm down. How’s work?”
I’ve retreated to the sugar station, pretending to reorganize packets so I can keep listening.
“Great. I’ve been busy with my wood. Mornings are brutal.”
Henry lifts one immaculate brow.
Jørgen’s cheeks flush bright crimson.
“Carpentry,” he blurts. “I meant actual wood.”
“I assumed,” Henry says dryly. He takes a sip of water.
“I’ve been busy too. Caspian keeps sending people my way.”
I blink. Why is Caspian sending people Henry’s way?
That makes him sound like a good person.
But he isn’t.
“Same,” Jørgen says, nodding. “I got a big order last week, thanks to him.”
“He’s a great man,” Henry says. “Always willing to help.”
“One of the best.”
I consider marching up to them.
I consider saying that sure, Caspian might send people their way—and yes, he’s charming and handsome and earnest and makes my heart beat erratically—but he’s still friends with Ryan Rutherford.
In the end, I decide against it.
Maria starts clearing the table after they leave, collecting plates almost aggressively.
“I hate Dr. Stone.”
“Why?”
“She’s a walking red flag. That’s why. Sophia thinks she’s focused and competent, but I think she’s cold-hearted and ruthless.” She takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm down. “At least your Stone seems different.”
My stomach flips.
