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“Oh yeah? So you’re saying I look like a smug asshole?”
“Beau,” Maggie snaps.
Fitz lets out a howling laugh. “Yep, that’s it.”
A gentle smirk tugs on my lips as he lets go of my hand, but Maggie’s death grip on my tricep doesn’t ease up in the slightest.
“I’ve known your dad a long time, long enough to know he’s not going to get any less smug now.”
Okay, maybe this guy isn’t so bad.
“But he never had a sharp tongue like you. Hold on to that. It’s going to get you in trouble, but trouble is half the fun.”
“Says the lawyer who loves trouble,” Maggie retorts proudly.
Fitz responds with another laugh. Then he looks at me as he says, “This one’s been trying to put me out of my job for over a decade now. Trouble is my livelihood, Mags.”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Yeah, I know it is, but it also takes years off my life every time you come around.”
“Well, things seem to be running smoothly at the club, so hopefully, you won’t be seeing me for a while.”
She lets out a heavy breath. “Don’t get too excited. Those protestors are back. They posted some bullshit article online and theBriar Point Journalactually picked this one up.”
“They printed it?” he replies, sounding astounded.
“Not exactly. But they’ve called twice. Might as well get your pen handy. We’re going to need it.”
My attention is glued to their conversation, but I choose to keep the little spray paint incident to myself, not wanting to draw even more attention to myself.
“I’m ready. The legality is ironclad, Maggie. The most important thing is that we don’t engage with them. But you guys know that, so don’t worry.”
She takes in a long sigh, nodding her head as if she’s trying to build up her own confidence. “I’m trying, Fitz. I’m trying.”
He gives her a reassuring wink and pat on the shoulder, but when I shuffle my feet, clearly not part of this conversation, he turns toward me. “So, what about you, Mr. Grant? When are you going to join the family business?”
I screw my face up in disgust. “Gross.”
He laughs again. “Okay, I take it back. You are nothing like your father.”
“Thank God for that.” As I look away from Fitz, I feel Maggie’s eyes on my face, and I don’t like the look of concern in her features. Like I’m a disappointment for shaming my dad’s business, again.
I feel the disappointment, like knives. And I don’t like it. Not at all.
* * *
When I glancedown at my phone for the hundredth time tonight and see it’s nine thirty-seven, I say a silent prayer of thanks. The partygoers are starting to get tipsy anyway, which means people are getting loose and obnoxious, and for a pretty formal party, it’s not as entertaining as you’d think. I lost track of Maggie about fifteen minutes ago, and I feel too exposed alone.
Just as I start to slip toward the door, I hear the cling of a spoon against glass. The party silences, making my exit a little too obvious. I freeze midstep and turn around to find my dad and Charlie standing at the front of the room, near the entrance to his office. She’s nestled against his side with a bright, beaming smile on her face.
“Charlotte and I would just like to thank you all for coming out to celebrate our engagement.”
I silently shuffle toward the edge of the party, trying to hide myself behind a large potted plant by the window. I scan the crowd again, looking for the familiar brown-haired woman who stood by my side all night. It’s weird that Maggie is suddenly my security blanket, but this would just be a hell of a lot less awkward if she was next to me.
“I’m not really the type of man to boast about his love life, but I feel the constant need to brag about how lucky I am to have this woman in my life.”
Give me a fucking break.
I roll my eyes. I can hold my tongue and watch what I say, but I can’t be held accountable for what my face does.
