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“That’s all you have to say?” Ezra demanded. “Okay? That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?” Relying on patience, I made the first latte for him and the second for me.
Instead of answering, Ezra started opening the cabinets. I had no idea what he was hunting for and I didn’t care. My phone buzzed as I finished making my own coffee. A series of appointments appeared on the screen.
It was closing in on four. My alarm would go off within the hour. I was supposed to go to the gym, workout, then a fight session before I had a breakfast meeting.
Sparing a glance toward Ezra, I shook my head. I doubted I’d get that workout in, much less the fight session. Not with his current mood.
“Living room,” I told him as I carried my coffee and phone out. The windows overlooking the river gave us a gorgeous view. The lower lights out here would probably help with his fidgeting.
We’d see.
It took Ezra more than a minute, but he finally stalked out of the kitchen with his coffee. He came to stand next to me where I stared out over the city, where it was beginning to wake up.
“Can I crash here for a couple of days?”
Not an unexpected question. Still… “Problems?”
Instead of answering, Ezra paced away from the window. So yes, there were problems. I sipped my coffee and waited for him to get his shit together. At least his stagger and sway didn’t seem as pronounced.
“The Masquerade is coming.” The announcement didn’t deserve a response from me, nor did it require one. The Masq had been my mother’s favorite event, unfailingly the event that kicked off the slew of parties that would culminate in the Christmas Ball before giving way to debutante season once more.
I didn’t give a damn about any of them—save for the Masquerade. I didn’t care about this one now, except Andrea emailed she would be home for it. She was too young for these more formal occasions, but she was Melissa’s daughter and our father was intent on showing off his mistress-turned-wife, which meant trotting out their child.
“Lainey will be there,” Ezra continued, though uncertainty crept into his voice. “Right? I know Melissa will be this year’s hostess.”
I spared him a look. “Why would I know Lainey’s schedule?” I assumed she’d be there. She never missed a single event when my mother was alive. My mother had been very fond of Lainey and I’d always suspected the feeling was mutual.
My mother was the reason I’d tried to look after Lainey, but her death had changed a lot of things…
“Fuck,” Ezra muttered, then scowled at me. “It’s your goddamn fault.”
“So you said.” He’d mentioned it earlier. “Care to share what I am being blamed for?”
“Milo fucking Hardigan.”
Maintaining a smooth face and no reaction took some effort. I glanced at Ezra to meet his wild-eyed glare. When he didn’t retreat, I raised my eyebrows.
“He’s still in town.”
“I’m aware.” I was. He’d all but moved in with Lainey. They’d settled into her grandfather’s apartment three buildings over. If I looked out my bedroom windows, I could see the windows of her penthouse apartment.
The illusion of closeness was just that—an illusion. But I had to settle for it.
“If she comes to the party, he’ll probably be with her.”
“I would suppose.” Typically, plus ones were included. Not that Lainey had ever brought an escort to a party. Once—she’d considered it once. We made sure it didn’t happen and she never made the mistake of repeating that choice.
Now?
Now, she was in kissing range of her twenty-first birthday and living with a man I would rather have seen dead than ever touching what belonged—
“You would suppose,” Ezra scoffed, disdain etching every single word. “What the fuck happened to you? She’s—”
No sooner did he stomp onto that potentially bloodied ground than he retreated once more. When I pivoted, he withdrew and flung himself down on the sofa.
“She’s?” I said when he chose to not continue.
