Page 59 of The Image of You

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dinner was a cat-and-mouse game with Elena. Ally was correct when she’d stated Elena would preside over the table. The old woman was a powerhouse—shrewd, sharp, and blunt. She was also catty and snarky when she felt like it—which, it seemed, was a lot this evening. Her jibes were laced with the sweetest of smiles, her sharp words spiked with kindness. She didn’t suffer fools easily, and this table was full of them. I would have gone mad without her presence.

I liked her a lot.

My view of Ally was perfect. More than once, our gazes met, lingering far too long, and I had to tear my glance away. Hundreds of words passed between us without a sound. Lifetimes of promises made with the lift of an eyebrow. The intense closeness I felt to Ally was uncanny—unlike anything I had ever experienced until her. More than once, Elena caught our stares, her all-seeing eyes studying us as if she knew what was occurring.

I tuned out a great deal of the conversation, covertly making sure Bradley didn’t get too handsy and Ally wasn’t picked on by her mother every moment. She was stuck between them again, but tonight, she didn’t seem as drawn in on herself. Her shoulders were back, the light glinting off her pendant. Her face was almost serene, and I knew I’d made the right decision coming here. She needed me as much as I needed her.

Elena cleared her throat, and I realized I’d been staring far too long at Ally. She shifted in her chair, turning to face me. Most of our table had gotten up to look over the auction items one last time, leaving us to talk.

She regarded me astutely and leaned close. “I know who you are, boy.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

She was direct. “You’re the reason Alexandra is glowing this evening.”

“You think?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

I sipped my scotch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t want to take credit for making her happy?”

My expression gave me away. “It’s Ally’s news to share.”

She took my glass, then sipped at the golden liquid. “For the money they charge for these things, they could bring in a better vintage.” Then she chuckled. “Ally? That’s going to go over well with Sarah and Ronald. They dislike nicknames.”

I narrowed my eyes, taking back my glass. She was right about the scotch, but it was better than nothing. “I don’t much give a fuck about Sarah and Ronald.”

She surprised me by clapping her hands in delight. “Oh, I’m going to like you, boy.”

I smiled—the first real one of the night I’d bestowed other than to Ally. “That’s a good thing. I’m already fond of you.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re older than she is.”

“Eight years isn’t a lot.”

“I think you’ve crammed a lot of living into those years.” With a sly grin, she ruffled my hair. “I see the evidence here.”

“Ally should be grateful I don’t take after my father. He was as bald as a billiard ball at thirty. I can live with some silver.”

“It suits you.”

I winked at her teasing. “Like what you see, woman?”

She sniffed and turned her head, but her lips curled into a grin.

“That’s a rather risqué picture you’ve donated.”

“It’s a work of art. Something I created.”

She shook her head impatiently. “Alexandra has spent many afternoons in my pool.” This time, it was her eyebrow that arched knowingly. “I recognize those freckles.”

A grin broke out on my face. “Enchanting, aren’t they?”

“You made a huge mistake, though.”