parents divorced?’ The few mouthfuls of pancake settled in her stomach like concrete. She’d always liked the Lanes. Jack’s parents had always been nice to her, and Isabel, two years younger, had emulated a seventeen-year-old Harley, not that she’d ever understood why. What had happened to them following the demise of the friendship between the Jacobs and Lanes? Had Joe discovered the affair? Had Amalie confessed? Was Hal to blame for their family breakdown?
Jack slammed the drawer closed. ‘Oui, spectacularly.’
He didn’t know.
If he knew about his mother and Hal, he wouldn’t be able to look at her right now, let alone tolerate her in his bed. Her throat turned scratchy. She couldn’t look at herself.
‘That doesn’t mean Isabel’s marriage will fail.’ Yes, it took two to tango, but the far-reaching poison Hal had spread... Harley covered her mouth in case the she blurted out words that would kill this dead.
He pulled on the white T-shirt and shrugged. ‘I just don’t understand why she’s so keen to play happy families.’
She should tell him. Her stomach cramped with the familiar burden that knowledge brought. For years she’d struggled with the secret, desperate to share it, lighten the load, but too scared of the repercussions.
And in some sick way, knowing about Hal’s affair gave her a connection with him no one else had. They’d never discussed it, but she’d loyally protected him all these years. So desperate for his approval. So fearful of his disappointment.
The pancakes threatened to make a reappearance. But why should she have to clean up Hal’s mess? If she told Jack, she’d have to tell her mother, too, in case Dulcie heard of it from another source.
It had been bad enough discovering them that last shared holiday in Aspen, bringing an abrupt end to her childhood and naïve notions about love and happy ever afters. Compounded by the shameful years of keeping the secret, she’d allowed her discovery to shape her own relationships. Keeping her guard up. Never falling too far.
And now? Why should she enlighten Jack on the choices their parents had made? Harley knew first hand the devastation the knowledge carried—Jack’s relationship with his mother would be tarnished for ever.
If she told him her father was responsible for his parents’ split and she’d known all along, he’d hate her perhaps more than he hated Hal—was she ready for things to be over?
Harley swallowed. It shouldn’t matter if he was done with her. After all, what they shared was just sex. Why then did she want to run and hide so he couldn’t see the truth written on her face?
‘Perhaps she is happy.’ Whatever her own motives, Isabel deserved to share her joyous news with her brother, unencumbered by Hal’s actions. ‘And you’re happy for her.’
Jack wasn’t his father or hers. He deserved to find happiness for himself. And he deserved to embrace his soon-to-be uncle role.
He paused in the hunt for more clothing, his jaw bunched but his shoulders sagging as if in defeat.
‘Wanna go shopping for baby clothes?’ Harley said.
His mouth twitched into a reluctant grin as his eyes searched hers. She swallowed, her throat hot and achy.
‘Congratulations, Uncle Jack.’
He laughed, striding back to the bed and pulling her up for a thorough kissing. Something like relief poured through her, pushing aside the guilt keeping Hal’s secret had always created. But as she succumbed once more to her physical connection with Jack she acknowledged neither emotion had any place in a short-term relationship composed solely of great sex.
* * *
Harley kicked off her shoes in the foyer of her apartment, allowing a surge of blood back into her tired feet. She padded up the connecting stairs to Ash’s apartment above. He’d texted her thirty minutes ago saying he wanted to talk, so she knew he was home. After a day spent with Jack—baby clothes shopping, lunch and then a walk in Central Park—the last thing she wanted to do was face her brother’s inquisition.
But Ash had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Better to hear him out and put him straight. The sooner she got it over with, the sooner she could wallow in the tub, something she’d been dreaming about for hours, the ache of underused muscles the only downside to fantastic sex.
She keyed her code into the entry pad, letting herself into her brother’s apartment, which, size-wise, was a carbon copy of hers. They’d both inherited the Fifth Avenue apartments from their grandfather, an Irish immigrant turned real-estate magnate and founder of Jacob Holdings.
‘Ash?’ She found him in his office. Eight-thirty on a Saturday night and Ash was still working. As Jacob Holdings’ leading corporate lawyer, he pulled horrendous hours, but he seemed to thrive off it. Another reason she could never have worked in the family business—their father’s ridiculously high expectations stretched beyond her below-average grades, poor test performance and her choice of degree.
Ash looked up from the screen of his laptop and smiled.
‘Hey, Harls.’ He stood, flicking off the lights as he led her back into the living space and poured their usual Scotch and soda nightcap.
Harley settled into one corner of plush sectional sofa that faced a state-of-the-art minimalist fireplace and sipped her drink. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, but she breathed through her apprehension, giving her beloved brother the benefit of the doubt. Sadly, he let her down.
‘I’m just gonna come out and say it.’ He crossed one ankle over the opposite knee and glared. ‘What the hell are you thinking?’ Ash gripped his glass so tight, the tips of his fingers turned white.
Harley sighed.
Really?
She was twenty-six years old and he still wanted to play ‘big brother knows best’?
‘To what are you referring?’ No way would she make this easy for him. If he wanted to overstep the mark into her personal life, he’d have to do it unaided.
‘You know what I mean. Jacques Lane, or whatever he calls himself these days. The old man will flip.’ Ash rubbed his forehead and took a glug of Scotch.
‘And it’s no more his business than it is yours.’ She rolled her bunched shoulders, refusing to ruin her happy, sated, shopped-out mood. ‘Besides, we’re just fucking.’ That should shut him up. She tucked her feet under her and snuggled deeper into the cushions, her eyes drawn to the flickering orange flames over her brother’s jaw-dropping glare.
Ash scrubbed his hand through his hair, his own curse hissed under his breath.
‘Didn’t you dump him? Didn’t some major shit go down that winter, between his parents and ours? Dad never spoke of the Lanes again unless it was to badmouth Joe’s shitty business dealings. I am remembering this right, yeah?’
Heat spread from the swallow of Scotch, flooding her with fire.
‘So, what does that have to do with us? Besides, it was more than you know, more than Hal let on. The bad business between him and Joe was only part of the story.’
‘I
