"Mind you, it’s only been three weeks since our new routine began. But so far, he hasn’t been more obnoxious than usual."
She giggles. "He can be a bear when he’s trying to get his dish just right."
"Did he teach you and your siblings to cook?"
"He tried. I was happy to learn from him, as was my cousin, Lyra, who grew up with us. My brothers? Not so much."
"Is your cousin here?" I glance around the room again.
“Lyra’s studying to be a nun." Her features grow soft. "She and my brother, Lachlan… They’ve always kept a little apart from the family. They knew what they wanted, and each took off when they turned eighteen."
I often wished I had more siblings growing up.
It’s nice that I’m married into a big family, even if this arrangement will, in all probability, not last for more than a year.
My gaze drifts to where James is talking to a group of men. He’s listening intently to what the men are saying. He looks so distinguished in his suit, which has definitely been tailored to his specs. Even now, after working so closely with him all these months, just seeing him in acrowded room makes my pulse speed up and moisture gather between my legs.
"Harper, did you hear what I said?" Phe’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
I bring my attention back to her. "Oh yes, a tour of the house. I’d like that."
I’ve seen Phe’s parents’ home, but not her grandmother’s place.
I’m hoping seeing the house that was a part of his childhood will give me more insight into James.
44
James
"James Hamilton, married?" Nathan slaps me on the back with enough force that I stumble.
We arrived at Margot’s place half an hour ago. My brothers are all here. As are Nathan Davenport, Sinclair Sterling, and Toren Whittington. They're friends of the family. Margot must be plotting something with the companies they represent to invite them to what’s, essentially, a family event.
"Congratulations on the new arrival."
Nathan gives me a strange look.
"What?"
"That was a year ago."
I blink. Fuck. I’ve royally screwed up again. I’ve been so in my own head and involved in growing my business that I haven’t been able to keep track of important events in my friend’s life.
"I’m sorry." I rub the back of my neck, apologizing for my dickishness. Yep, that’s getting to be my new reality. "It seems like yesterday when…" David? William? I draw a blank.
"Ben," he interjects, coming to my rescue when I fumble.
"Ben was born," I continue smoothly, trying to save face. Knowing, already, that I failed, but also knowing I need to keep trying to salvage what’s left of my sorry ego.
He smiles knowingly. "Yes, Ben is a year old already."
"Time flies, eh?" I wince.
I sound like one of those social media posts that state the obvious yet seem to draw a fascinating number of people to agree.
"Want to see pictures?" His face goes all soft and goofy. Then, the cutthroat CEO of Davenport Group pulls out his phone and thrusts it under my nose. It shows a baby frowning at the camera. He scrolls through the pictures. "And this is when he took his first step. And when he spoke his first word. Oh, his first tooth, isn’t he adorable?"
I have to say the baby’s something. In most of the pictures he has a wrinkled forehead and lips which droop at the sides like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.
