Page 34 of Reckless
I didn’t answer.Because that voice meant she was about to stop teasing and move into the territory I generally preferred to avoid with her.The one where she sounded less like a sparkling empress of family logistics and more.
“What?”I asked finally.
“What are you doing?”
I drove past the line where Virgin Cove tipped from scenic coastal town into the longer road toward the bridge.The Atlantic flashed between houses and hedges.
“Avoid traffic.”I said.I refused to talk to my mother about this.
“Then ensure Kelly knows you actually like her and it’s not fleeting?”
“We can’t talk about this.”
She hummed very softly.“You need help, clearly.”
“See you soon Maman.”I disconnected the call.
Kelly had been right on her landing.Her voice changed every time I was right, and that was useful.But she had also been right in the worse way, about the structure of the problem.
I had created it.And because of who my family was and how they moved around relationships like a collective weather system, there was no version of undoing it that landed equally on both of us.If I corrected the story alone, she would carry more of the embarrassment.If she corrected it, she would look rejected.If we both corrected it, it still became a thing.None of those options were acceptable.
Which left one.Kelly was going to like it less.
I drove into Manhattan because work still existed, because my company had not paused to accommodate my mother’s schemes or my own increasingly inconvenient interest in a woman who had every reason not to trust me.Roman and I occupied the fortieth floor of a glass tower that looked like the sort of place men built when they wanted the city at their feet and preferably making money while it was there.
The office was already in motion by the time I arrived.Assistants and developers.Conference rooms booked wall to wall.Screens lit.Low conversation.The hum of a place where everyone was too expensive to waste time.
I should have felt that familiar click the second I stepped into it.The sharpening.The narrowing.The relief of moving into systems I understood and controlled.
Instead my morning sat under my skin like a burn.Roman noticed the second I walked into my office.
He was seated across the sitting area by the windows, one ankle over the opposite knee, coffee in hand, looking as polished and impossible as ever.
“You’re late,” he said.“What happened?”
I dropped my keys on the desk and shrugged out of my jacket.“I will get everything done.I always do.”
Roman’s gaze moved over me once, efficient and unimpressed.“That’s not it.You saw Kelly.”
“Mom called me.She’s now getting coffee with Britney.”I searched him.“Are you all working from a shared script?”
“No.You have the expression of a man who’s been told no by someone he likes.”
I walked to the windows because if I looked directly at my brother while he was being this perceptive I would have to throw something at him.The city spread below in clean lines and reflected light, all movement and power and impossible scale.Usually it helped.Today it looked loud.
“She slammed a door in my face,” I said.
Roman froze enough that I knew I’d managed to interest him.
“That is,” he said after a beat, “unexpectedly gratifying.”
“You’re a poor excuse for family support.”
“Maybe.But I’ve never had a woman slam a door in my face.I’m curious.”
I turned back.“I publicly put her in a position she didn’t ask for.Privately attempted to discuss it.She was unreceptive.”
“That’s one word.”
