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He glances at the address and nods. "Is there any else I can do for you?"
"I'm going need a new tie for the Jubilee. I haven't gotten around to it yet." I pull the blue dyed napkin out of my pocket. "Something along the lines of this."
"You got it. And sir, your next meeting is on their way up."
I take a deep breath. "Send him in when he gets here. And fill up my ice bucket, we're going to need it, I think." I linger at his desk, feeling playful, watching him smooth his hand over the envelope. "Thanks, Marck-y."
His eyes widen in shock, but he doesn't say anything.
I wander back to my desk, a chuckle on my lips at my assistant's reaction. Poor thing. He's been through the wringer since, well, since the first day Luna walked into my bar.
That makes both of us.
Two minutes later, he knocks on the door, carrying a tray with an ice bucket, and some extra scotch glasses, followed by my next appointment.
I shake his hand, and gesture to the couch.
"Thanks for coming. Lets get this done, shall we?”
Forty-Nine
Luna
A large white boxis sitting on my back deck when I step out onto it. What I'm even more surprised to see is Marcus walking back up to the cottage from the pier.
"Marcky! What are you doing here? Did you take a wrong turn off Clerkenwell Street again? I told you to get in the right lane the second you turn out of the office."
He grins and smacks his forehead. "Shit. Is that what happened. See? That's why you need to come back. What would I do without you?"
"Probably not get calledMarckyas much, for one."
His eyebrow cocks. "Funny you should say that." He holds out an envelope. "Special delivery. Open the letter and then the box, in that order."
I make a serious face. "And if I don't?"
"He'll find out and who knows what will explode."
"How will he know though?"
Then, laughing, we say in unison, "Oh, he'll know."
He reaches over and gives me a soft hug, careful of my still healing scars. "It was good to see you. Gotta get back to the office, this was a longer lunch break than I had intended."
"Hey, Marcus?"
"Yeah?"
"Take care of him for me, okay?"
Moonshine,
Come.
Please.
Come to say “you’re back” or to say “goodbye,” to say you hate me, to say I ruined your life, to let me tell you that you taught me what happiness is, to say all the things you want to but didn't, couldn’t, say in Annecy, so I can say all the things I wasn’t brave enough to that first night you terrorized the patrons at my bar.
Just come.
