Page 73 of Feel It in the Air

And I see it.

Staring back at me, in those deep brown eyes, is disappointment.

I think I’d rather he be angry…

“Care to explain what Margeaux was doing at your place?”

The knot forming in my stomach doubles up, then triples, furiously looping upon itself until it’s a mess that would rival some of those yarn baskets at Sew it Seams. I have to be honest. I know I do. I not only owe that to my father, to our business and empire, but to Margeaux. To the woman I love.

Because I do love her.

“She came over to cook dinner.” Auggie lifts an eyebrow, silently telling me he knows that’s not the whole story and that I should keep talking. So I do. “And then spent the weekend.”

“I take it this was not the first of such…encounters?” His thick Georgia accent and old-school Southern manners make the question sound like something out of Gone with the Wind, rather than a modern-day relationship.

It also makes it sound a lot more scandalous than it is. As if Margeaux and I have been carrying on some kind of clandestine affair. Sneaking around town and—oh wait. Well, shit. I suppose that’s exactly what we’ve been doing.

“It was the first time she’d been to the cottage, but no, it was not the first…occasion, we’ve spent together,” I answer, trying to match his wording. It’s harder than it seems, and I have to give him credit for the ease in which he busts it out. “Some smaller town events where we could disguise our presence together as part of a group, and then she joined Jace and me in Savannah for the expo.”

Auggie sucks in a harsh breath. “I told you to wait.”

“I know you did. And I had every intention…but it just kinda happened.”

“It can’t just happen!” Auggie shouts, pushing up from the table and starting to pace. “Not when she reports to you.”

“I cleared it with Carl in HR and⁠—”

“That was before she was a direct report.” He continues to pace, his frustration visible. “Do you understand the trouble this could cause?”

The question is rhetorical, and I know better than to answer. So I don’t. Silence thickens arounds us as Auggie continues to pace, his hands flexing—his signature sign of irritation. In my four decades on this earth, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen my father hit anything. Those hands though? I’ve seen them flex enough that I’m surprised their muscle mass doesn’t rival all of the Hulk.

Turning back to me, he levels me with a look that makes me feel like I’m four years old, not forty.

“I told you to wait. It was a few weeks, Gus. A few weeks. I really never took you for one who couldn’t keep it in your pants for a few weeks.”

Ouch…

“Auggie…”

“If this comes out…” He shakes his head, lips pressed firm into a straight line. “I can’t defend you, son. You know that, right? I can’t be in your corner. You’ve lost me as your backup. Do you realize what could happen if this goes south? Everything that you could lose? And I do mean everything. Because that’s what it’ll be—everything. All that you’ve worked for.”

“It won’t,” I insist.

“You don’t know that.”

But I do…

I look up at him, his formidable form as still as a statue, staring back at me. Waiting on a response.

“What if I do?”

The change is slight. Barely there. Almost imperceptible. A flicker of something that doesn’t have a name. A feeling that is only understood by those closest to you.

“What are you saying?”

His tone isn’t accusatory or harsh. All that’s faded into something else. Something…inquisitive.

A simple question. One without a simple answer. At least, I don’t have a simple answer. Hell, I’m not sure I have an answer at all.