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Violet laughed at the metaphor. “I’m not sure how Edith would feel about the CEO position of her beloved company being compared to a bone.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Ashley smiled indulgently. “The job’s not the bone. You are.”
Violet rolled her eyes, nodding for Ashley to turn onto Fifty-Sixth. “Right here.”
Violet had been expecting to have to wait for Cain. He’d agreed—reluctantly—to meet her at the tailor’s at three, and she and Ashley were a bit early.
So was Cain. His eyes found hers, and she remembered that the last time she’d seen him, she’d woken up curled against his chest, feeling safe, and warm, and… home.
He was standing at the side of the building, leaning into a service door, booted foot propped up against it. Not looking at his phone, not doing anything besides watching them approach, with his trademark unreadable glower.
He lowered his boot to the ground and straightened, and Violet heard Ashley’s feminine purr of approval. Cain was wearing the gray wool coat they’d bought together, as well as a light gray sweater overtop a collared shirt. The jeans, Violet realized, were the old ones he’d brought with him, and the boots definitely hadn’t been purchased in New York.
The combination of Manhattan polish and outsider defiance was intensely attractive.
Ashley extended her hand with a warm smile. “You must be Cain.”
When Cain’s usual guarded expression relaxed immediately as he shook her friend’s hand, Violet felt a little stab of envy that she’d never inspired the same instant ease in people.
Violet thought she’d stopped envying Ashley’s sunny charisma years ago, but the smile Cain gave Ashley was easier, and more friendly within seconds of meeting, than any he’d given Violet in the month they’d known each other.
Then again, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. Violet’s reserved presence had always been the kind that made men check to see that their tie knot was perfectly straight, to adjust their shirt cuffs just so. Ashley was the type of woman who caused men to loosen their tie, to roll up their sleeves.
Violet had little doubt which type of woman Cain gravitated toward.
Ashley glanced at her watch. “I hate to bail on a free fashion show, and I love a man in a tux, but I’ll have to wait until the Heart Ball to see you all pretty,” she said, batting her eyelashes playfully at Cain. “I have to at least pretend I did a bit of work this afternoon before my wretched coworker tattles to my boss about my too-long lunch.”
“I’ll take pictures,” Violet volunteered, waggling her phone.
“Not if you want that phone to stay in one piece you won’t,” Cain said. “And by the way, you do realize I can manage to try on a penguin suit without your presence.”
“Uh-huh.” She gave him an arch look. “So you didn’t call Zeke and tell him you didn’t need the tux after all?”
He didn’t look even remotely guilty. “Actually, my exact words were I wasn’t going to spend hundreds of dollars on a penguin suit I’ll wear once in a decade.”
“I don’t know what’s cuter, that you think it’ll only be hundreds of dollars, or that you’ll only wear it once a decade.” Ashley patted his bicep good-naturedly, then blew a kiss to Violet before departing with a cheerful wave.
Inside the shop, as they waited for his tux to be brought out front, Cain picked up a business card off the reception desk. He scraped the pad of his thumb over the corner, as though testing the paper quality.
“I thought we were going to have lunch,” he said abruptly, a bit curt. “You were going to bore my head off with an explanation of how to navigate a wine list, remember?”
She froze in confusion. “When, today? No, we weren’t. I’ve had plans with Ashley for days.”
He shook his head. “Not today. Monday.”
Monday. The day she’d met with Edith, Keith, Dan, and Jocelyn.
“Something came up.” She kept her voice light.
“Right. And how was the duke? Trying to get you back?”
“How did you know I had lunch with—” Violet broke off, realizing the obviousness of the answer. Keith had obviously let it slip that they’d had lunch together. And she was betting not by accident.
Maybe Ashley was right. Maybe she was the bone.
“Sorry about the delay!” Zeke interrupted the impending argument, coming out from the back room, the tux draped over his arm. “My wife called, and since she’s eight months pregnant, I live in a pretty much constant state of agitation that every call is going to be the call.”
“Oh! Congratulations! Was it the baby call?” Violet asked. “If you need to reschedule…”
“No, no,” Zeke said with a reassuring smile. “Just a gentle wifely reminder that I promised to let out her favorite dress in time for a party this weekend.” He gestured around his belly, miming a bump.
