stand too, my heart heavy for the Faulkners.
Reid catches my wrist. ‘Thank you.’ The sombre look on his face, mirrored in both Kit’s and Drake’s expressions, is difficult to witness. I nod, too unsettled to speak, and wander out in search of a bathroom.
While I wash my hands my head replays the past hour, my concern for Graham’s condition and Reid’s obvious worry, which was evident in the number of times he slid his eyes his father’s way during the meal. The uncertainty over Graham’s prognosis and his bouts of confusion are taking a toll, perhaps the reason Reid seems both distracted and overprotective of the Faulkner. But at least I can help with the latter, manage the renovations as smoothly as possible and to the agreed time frame, releasing Reid from at least one burden. It’s the least I can do and, although we’ve never been friends, perhaps we can be when this is over.
From the little I know of dementia, it’s a progressive condition, so Graham is unlikely to improve. He’s so young. Will he forget his sons as he’s forgotten his ex-daughter-in-law and me? What will happen if he worsens and can no longer live alone?
I emerge from the bathroom minus any answers and head in the direction of the foyer to find Graham. Halfway there, I’m drawn to a halt by familiar voices coming from a quiet seating nook just outside the dining room. Nothing good ever comes of eavesdropping, and I’m about to walk on when I hear mention of my name.
‘Blair Cameron—what’s going on?’ says Kit.
There’s a pause filled only by the sound of my blood whooshing through my head and the metallic taste of apprehension.
‘Dad saw her in the foyer and invited her to lunch.’ Reid’s voice—measured. Careful. ‘They’re quite close, by all accounts.’
I blink, my eyes hot. We are. Were, when Graham could remember me.
‘I’m not talking about that. Are you seeing each other?’ asks Kit.
Drake chuckles. ‘Sleeping with the competition—didn’t know you had the balls, big brother.’
I cover my mouth to stifle my gasp. Is that how Reid sees me? An adversary? Someone not to be trusted? Someone out to ruin his beloved hotel with lime-green paint? I’d assumed that was a joke. I know he’s been hurt by Sadie, but the confirmation he expects so little of me and Cameron Interiors feels like a slap in the face after the vow I just made to ease his worry over the renovations.
Reid’s growl of irritation echoes through the wall. ‘Since when have you cared who I sleep with? It’s none of your damned business—either of you.’
‘Hey,’ splutters Kit. ‘Don’t get defensive—we’re just surprised that it’s her, of all people.’
‘Why? Because she’s so much younger than me?’ says Reid, with only the tiniest pause before he continues. ‘Aside from what she does professionally to our hotel, my relationship with Blair Cameron has nothing to do with either of you.’
He, like me, must have seen the look of judgement on Kit’s face earlier at lunch. Perhaps he’s embarrassed to be caught out by his brothers. Perhaps he thinks someone younger can’t be professionally as successful. And personally? Does he see my naivety with Josh as a barrier to taking me seriously as potential relationship material? Not that we’re going there, but neither do I want or need a pity fuck.
Drake’s voice turns sober. ‘We’re not prying into your private life, but since when have you brought someone to lunch? It’s...heartening.’
‘Don’t read too much into it.’ Reid’s bored tone grates on my eardrums, and I want to interrupt and tell his brothers not to worry, that the eldest Faulkner is a great lay and I’ll be sure to put him carefully back on the shelf once I’m done with him.
‘So what about the renovations?’ Drake’s voice. ‘Is everything on track? Are you finally happy she can deliver on time or will you be watching her like a hawk, controlling every move she makes?’
Despite their reassurances, I’ve heard enough. The younger two Faulkner brothers may not approve of my sexual relationship with Reid, but maligning my business is another matter. One I won’t tolerate, from anyone.
I miss not only what Reid says in answer to Drake’s question, but also my opportunity to interrupt and set the Faulkners straight, because at that moment Graham rounds the corner, presumably in search of his chess partner.
I struggle through a brief game of chess, accepting my defeat at Graham’s hands while I formulate another battle plan. The sex was my idea. Reid and I are not in a relationship. He owes me nothing, least of all loyalty. But we agreed to keep the work separate. If we’re off course before the work on the Faulkner has even begun, this is over.
I ignore the pinch in my stomach, which feels a lot like a mini version of Josh’s betrayal, take my leave of the Faulkners and head outside into the late-afternoon sunshine. Have I made another mistake? Am I being naive where Reid is concerned? Have I wrongly assumed we’re on the same wavelength, both physically and professionally?
Well, I know one thing: next time I have Reid alone I’ll know whether our brief, sex-only fling is make or break.
Reid
I EXIT THE hotel and jog down the street, guilt and adrenaline charging my muscles with enough energy to run a marathon. What a fucking idiot. How could I have been so stupid, so thoughtless as to discuss Blair with my brothers where she might overhear? One look at her closed expression as she thanked Graham for lunch and bade us all farewell told me she’d not only overheard, but probably wanted to tear a few well-deserved strips off me too. And she’d have every right. Not only did she play along again with my father’s mistake, something I know cost her, if the quickly concealed flash of hurt in her eyes was any indication, but she also showed how close she is to Graham and how invested she is in her relationships with all of us. She chatted to Mia and Kenzie, getting to know the newest two additions to the Faulkner clan, she teased Drake and Kit in the same way she’s taken to teasing me and she even graciously lost a game of chess to Graham, even though I’m sure she has a hundred better uses for her Sunday afternoon.
She was relaxed and comfortable around us right up until I spoiled it with my thoughtless lack of tact.
I round the corner in time to see Blair unlocking her car door. A wall of relief slams into me and I slow to a brisk walk, allowing myself time to recover from the fear I missed my chance to make this right, but the fear that I’ve inflicted too much damage lingers, turning my blood to ice. I refuse to probe my motivations too closely—with anyone else I’d put up less of a fight, but for some reason, with her, I’m not ready to walk away. Blair is a breath of fresh air in my life I can’t, and don’t want to, ignore. And, whether I’ve sabotaged this or not, she deserves an apology.
I take a hard swallow and try to slow my breathing as I come to a halt at her side.
‘Don’t leave angry with me—let’s talk it through.’ My voice carries a pleading undercurrent that feels both alien and justified. The idea I’d get down on my knees, if that’s what it takes, comes out of nowhere and takes root.
She turns, lazily lifting
