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“Ha.”
“Gage!” Haven said as she put the phone away. “So good to see you.”
“Hi, Haven.” I looked behind her and smiled at Bree and Archer and signed hello. “Happy birthday, Bree.”
“Thanks, Gage,” she said as Archer signed hello back, both of them immediately turning toward the two boys when they realized they’d taken advantage of their parents’ attention being directed elsewhere to begin climbing the wrought iron trellis on the front wall of the restaurant. Archer grabbed each of them around the waist as the boys erupted in squeals of laughter when their father tickled their ribs until they let go, collapsing backward against his chest.
“How was the guys’ trip?” Haven asked as the baby on her chest began to fuss.
“Unexpected,” I answered.
She gave me a confused little laugh, bouncing the baby whose cries became more insistent. “Well, I hope in good ways. Oh, here’s our car. We better get these kids to bed. It’s way past their bedtime and the meltdown is beginning. Wish us luck.”
“Good luck. Nice to see you all,” I said as their group bustled toward the car, the giggling boys still clamped under their father’s arms, their laughter mingling with the cries of Travis and Haven’s son, all the adults talking over each other, and the little girl sitting regally on her mother’s hip observing it all.
I turned back to the restaurant, and a doorman swung the door wide, giving me a nod as I passed through. “I’m meeting my parents,” I told the hostess when she greeted me.
“Yes, Mr. Buchanan. They are already seated in a booth at the back of the room on the left.”
“Thank you.” I headed in the direction they were sitting, loosening my tie slightly as I walked. It’d been a long day—made longer by the fact that I’d wanted to leave and try to corner “Aurora” and I hadn’t had an opportunity. But a dinner with my parents would be good. I’d convince them I was fine, that my behavior over the last couple of days was solely due to my busy schedule and lack of sleep, and put them at ease.
When I rounded the corner, I saw that three people were standing next to my parents’ booth, both their heads turned as they smiled up at me. Shit.
“Gage!” Blakely greeted, stepping away from her own parents and giving me a quick hug.
“Blakely, hi. You’re back.”
“I’ve been back since yesterday, silly. I’ve been calling you.”
Damn. I’d seen that. I’d meant to call her back. I’d just been…stalking someone. “Sorry. Work’s been…insane.” I turned to her parents. “Mr. Wingate. Mrs. Wingate. Nice to see you.”
Mr. Wingate shook my hand and Mrs. Wingate pulled me into a hug. “Gage,” she said after she’d let go. “We were just leaving, but it’s so nice to see you.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink. “We do hope we’ll be seeing quite a bit more of you soon.”
“Mom,” Blakely said, her cheeks coloring as her gaze shot to me. “Sorry, I might have mentioned—”
“Oh, Blakely,” her mother said, “Gage doesn’t mind that we know.” She grinned at my mother who put her fingers over her lips as if to hold back a smile. “We all think it’s wonderful.”
Wonderful? What was wonderful? My eyes held on Blakely as it dawned on me. Oh God, they were referring to our conversation about getting married. I felt a stab of annoyance. We’d agreed to discuss it when we got back from our trips, not to share it with anyone else, especially our families.
My mother laughed and gave my arm a squeeze. “Wonderful, indeed, but we’ll wait for you young people to let us know if we should pop the champagne.”
I chuckled uncomfortably, and Blakely gave me an apologetic look, and then mouthed “Sorry.” I held back any response that might escalate matters. The pressure of our parents knowing about a possible relationship between me and Blakely hadn’t been a factor when I’d agreed to think about it. Now…now it wasn’t just a decision that would affect us—our families would have a reaction to the choice we made too.
And if the hopeful looks on our parents’ faces were any indication, they would be highly disappointed should we choose not to pursue a romance.
But I swallowed down my irritation and gave Blakely a small smile meant to be reassuring. Because now that I was witness to the clear approval shining from my mother and father, I was again confronted with the thought that it made some sense. I obviously had terrible taste in women. It’d been years since I’d made the decision that I wanted to settle down and I still hadn’t met the one. Then the first woman who’d really caught my eye in forever was a liar. And yet I’d been obsessing over her for weeks.
I was about to make a life-changing move, a team of people across the ocean were depending on me, my father had put every bit of his faith in me, my parents very obviously wanted grandchildren, and here I was distracted by a little scammer. Obviously I was the problem here.
The sound of the Hale twins’ laughter rang in my ears, the vision of the two families out celebrating a life milestone together front and center in my mind. Suddenly, predictable sounded good. Calm. Boring, even. The deep satisfaction of making my parents proud and fulfilling the duty they’d lovingly set before me. The tradition of joining two families together who had the money and influence to make the community a better place. It was at least something to consider and yet all I’d been doing was chasing down a woman who’d obviously played me. “I’ll call you,” I told her, leaning forward and grazing her cheek with my lips. I lingered for a moment as I breathed in her scent. Flowery and familiar. Blakely. It was exactly what I needed. Perhaps she was too.
The Wingates said their goodbyes, Mrs. Wingate telling my mother she’d see her at the club the next day and Mr. Wingate reminding my father to send over the stock tip he’d mentioned. Blakely gave me another small hug, her perfume floating in the air even after the three of them had swept off and turned the corner out of sight.
I sank down into the booth next to my mother, picked up the glass of water in front of me on the table and downed the whole thing in one gulp and then set it back down. “I need a drink,” I mumbled. “Something strong.”
“Now, Gage, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” my mother said.
“Mom, I don’t have a drinking problem, okay? Despite…recent behavior, everything is fine with me.” I felt my jaw tense as I looked over at her. “Haven’t I proven to you that I’m more stable than that?” All my life. That’s all I’ve done. I’ve never slipped, never failed, not once.
