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“That’s a lot of pressure for a kid.”
“It was, and Macon could never seem to live up to their expectations. He’s just always been so good-natured and laid-back that it was hard for them to be disappointed in him. So they let him be the star athlete, the golden boy of Beacon Hill instead. All their expectations for a St. James son fell on me when it became clear that Macon would struggle in the private school I had to attend for high school.”
“Wow, I guess I always assumed it was Macon’s choice to attend Beacon Hill High.”
“No. My family’s money and influence could have gotten him into the private school, but he would have struggled academically. If he had any chance of attending a good university, he needed to attend a public school. Not that there’s anything wrong with public schools,” he rushed to add. “It’s just that the St. James sons had always attended the New England Conservatory Preparatory School.”
“That sounds like a juvenile detention center.” I wanted to go back in time and wrap thirteen-year-old Holden St. James in a hug. I wanted to tell him that he was special and kind and wonderful no matter what he did with his life.
“There were a lot of similarities between the two.” How had I ever thought this man was arrogant and shallower than a puddle on a hot summer afternoon? “I tried to work extra hard to keep Macon from bearing the full weight of my parents’ and grandfather’s disappointment, and it became a pattern with us. He’s always lived in the moment and dealt with the consequences later, knowing I would pick up the slack for him.”
“It kind of makes sense. I mean, a normal, well-adjusted person would not willingly choose to marry Sissy.” I hoped that wasn’t as offensive as it sounded to my ears.
“This wedding has really driven home for me how much I’ve enabled Macon — at my own expense.” He met my eyes and I saw a hard, determined glint in his eye that I knew served his clients well. “He refused to listen to my concerns about Sissy, and now my workload has doubled. My parents, our attorneys, and I have talked endlessly to Macon about a prenup, but Sissy has a fit if it’s even mentioned. He won’t risk upsetting her even to protect his own interests. Shehasto have this penthouse in Savannah, when Macon was supposed to take over the Beacon Hill solicitor’s office. He wants the partner track now but doesn’t seem to be willing—or able—to do the work to get there. I need to break this cycle for my own sanity.”
“How are you going to do that?” I asked, wanting to wrap Holden St. James in my arms and hug him until his worries were gone.
He huffed out a laugh. “I didn’t mean for this to become a therapy session.”
I reached across the table and placed my hand over his, giving it a squeeze. When I lifted my hand, Holden flipped his over and tangled his fingers with mine. We both stared at palm resting against palm, neither of us making a move to separate them.
“Holden, you held my hair while I puked. I’m glad there’s something I can do for you, even if it’s just listening.” I hesitated, eyes darting to where my palm rested against his bigger, warm one. “And I like knowing you.”
His thumb traced the length of mine, shooting warmth up my arm and into my cheeks.
“The old Bradford place. I’m going to take the city solicitor’s job.”
“Really? You’re going to move back to Beacon Hill?”
I tried to fight my rising disappointment. Even though we’d lived in the same city for years without interacting, I suddenly couldn’t picture Savannah without Holden in it.
He nodded, that determined glint reappearing. “I am. After the wedding, I’m going to tell everyone I’m leaving the firm. I’m tired of ninety-hour work weeks and billable hours. I want something different.”
I smiled, infusing every drop of pride I felt into it.
“I think that’s wonderful, Holden. Wonderful and brave. I have complete faith that you’re going to be the best solicitor Beacon Hill has ever had. And I’m really happy that the old Bradford place is going to get the love it deserves.”
Holden’s eyes traced every line of my face before meeting my own.
“Thank you, Sutton.” He let out a breath. “Your support means a lot to me. Do you...do you ever see yourself moving back?”
I let out a little laugh, shaking my head slightly.
“Before my dad broke his leg, I’d have said absolutely not. You couldn’t have paid me to move back, but now...I don’t know. Maybe? Savannah is great, but it’s never felt like home. It just wasn’t Beacon Hill.”
Holden nodded, his gaze locked on mine. I wanted so badly to be able to read him. To know him well enough to know what each gaze, each furrow of his brow meant.
“I can understand that. I hope —”
“Here we go!” The server’s enthusiastic declaration interrupted Holden. “I hope you’re both hungry.”
She set a large basket of hush puppies in the middle of the table, and plates with the largest shrimp rolls I had ever seen in front of each of us. My mouth was watering too much to thank her, may my mama forgive me.
“Thank you, this looks amazing.” Holden handled the polite business for me.
I needed two hands to pick up the sandwich, and the flavors exploded across my tongue.
“Oh my God, Holden, this is so good,” I said around a mouthful, watching as he dipped a hush puppy through the honey butter.
