Page 47 of Waiting for You

Sloane walked in.

She wore a deep crimson dress, her hair down and loose over her shoulders, and a strange man walked beside her. He was tall, a few inches taller than her. His fingers were laced through hers, and he strolled into the room, scanning it once without a flicker of hesitation. He moved like he owned the place. I already hated that.

I shot to my feet before my brain registered the movement.

Violet squealed and rushed across the foyer, her hands out. She looked the man up and down. "And who's this?" Her eyes were already dancing with amusement before Sloane could speak. The question was a formality.

"This is Andrew," Sloane announced. "The friend I went to meet yesterday. The reason I left the estate early."

I stared at Andrew.

He wasn't as tall as I was. He was good-looking, with styled blond hair and blue eyes, and he dropped her hand to let both arms hang at his sides.

Simon stepped forward, extending a hand. "Simon. Violet's husband."

Andrew gripped it. "Andrew. Genuine pleasure to meet you."

I forced my arm forward. He took my hand, and we traded a hard handshake.

"And you must be Xavier." He cast an appreciative glance around the sunlit room. "Great to meet everyone. I've heard nothing but good things." He glanced down at Sloane beside him, his blue eyes softening for half a second, before he addressed the room again. "We've been getting to know each other. It's going well."

"Andrew's someone my father's been trying to introduce me to," Sloane clarified. Her voice was level, her chin high. "He's been pushing for a meeting for months. I finally decided now was a good time."

She locked eyes with me on the last sentence, let the words sit one brutal second, then looked away.

Or maybe I was projecting. She'd been ambushed by Eliza in that doorway, bolted from the estate the next morning, and then I'd called her and gotten laughed at and called egotistical for my trouble. And now Andrew stood in my sister's living room holding her hand. It was possible Andrew had nothing to do with me.

We moved to the table for lunch. The chef brought out the first course, and Violet clapped her hands. "Everyone eat first. Then I have something important to tell you."

"Not even a tiny hint?" Sloane pleaded.

"Not even a crumb."

"Is it catastrophic news?"

"It's fantastic news."

"Is it a medical diagnosis? Because if Simon's pregnant, I demand to know immediately."

Simon turned his head to stare at her. "Why would I be the one who's⁠—"

"You just seem like the maternal type," Sloane deadpanned. Eliza let out a bright laugh, and Andrew glanced between the two women, his eyebrows shooting up before an appreciative grin spread across his face.

"Just eat your food," Violet said.

The conversation bounced easily around the table. I contributed when a question came at me, but my whole bandwidth was quietly tracking Sloane. She sat close to Andrew, her posture loose. At one point she murmured something to him, and he leaned down to catch it, nodding before she went back to her meal.

"You need more water?" he asked her.

"Please," she said, not looking up.

He grabbed the pitcher and filled her glass. She kept eating, comfortable in his care.

I watched the whole domestic exchange, keeping my face still.

Once the plates were mostly cleared, Violet dropped her fork onto the china.

"Alright," Simon said. "The floor's yours."