Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Aaron’s party was a gorgeous elegant affair in his penthouse, full of captains of industry, Chicago politicians, local celebrities, and us. Sam did not enjoy being in a suit, and neither, as far as I could tell, did Duncan. Both of them did a lot of squirming, fidgeting, and, for Sam’s part, looking uncomfortable. I appreciated the fact that Duncan played magnanimous host, which meant mostly telling people to eat more, drink more, and standing next to his husband. Aaron appreciated that as well. His social battery was not what it used to be, and he wore out much faster these days. Leaning on Duncan, both figuratively and literally, was a good thing.
What saved the party for Sam was the inclusion of Dane and Aja. He actually stopped scowling once they arrived. He walked Aja over to the bartender holding her hand. Dane was mobbed for two reasons. One, he was stunning in his vintage Armani suit, and two, he was the architect that people wanted. And I never worried about Dane like I did Aaron. Because even crowded, Dane only answered what he wanted to and never had trouble telling anyone that no, he had no interest in discussing whatever the topic was. He could bring normal conversation to a screeching halt and would just stand there and wait, in absolute painful, awkward silence for whoever to say something else. It was excruciating, and finally the offending person would clear their throat, tuck tail, and run. And Dane never said oh thank God they’re gone to whoever stayed. He wasn’t horrible like that. Instead he remained silent, sipping whatever he had in his hand, until someone changed the subject. Aja would normally take pity on others, walk up, slide her arm through his, apologize, and then lead him away so she could talk to him a moment. She would remind him to be tolerant before she kissed him. Because I knew him well, I was certain that he loved the kiss and took her guidance with a grain of salt.
The best time to approach Dane was when Sam was standing with him. Dane was easy to approach then because Sam would interrupt and return the conversation to kids, sports, or fishing. And even though Dane did not, ever, fish, that was good for my brother to have my husband as a buffer. When Sam draped an arm around Dane’s shoulders, something about that, maybe because Dane looked so comfortable with the closeness, eased others as well. Funny the things you noticed.
A very beautiful woman was talking to my husband, touching his arm, laughing at whatever he said, and I was going to walk over because I could plainly see that she was flirting, but since that seemed stupid, I stayed where I was with Dane. But I watched as Aja glided over, slipped her hand through his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. Instantly, he put his hand over hers, turned and smiled at her as she lifted her head to look up at him. They made a lovely picture together, and the love swirling between them was easy to see. Of course, to people who didn’t know, it could be mistaken for the romantic kind. Then they started talking, and in moments, both of them were laughing. Dane loved to hear his wife laugh, and would always look for her in the crowd. Sam would then tug Aja along after him, and they would both join Dane, standing on either side of him. That, right then, was when Dane was best. Bookended, anchored, whatever you wanted to say. He could truly be himself, and Sam didn’t look bad either. The best part was after the party the four of us went for Mexican food. Sam was really happy about that.
Michael’s party was much the same, except Sam didn’t have Dane or Aja there. His family was, his parents, which was good. Regina was holding court, as she always did, and Sam and his father were sitting together in companionable silence. As I didn’t know anyone and Hannah wasn’t there, busy with Aaron’s corporate Christmas party, which she always helped host, and all the boys were working—I was alone. Sitting with Sam on the couch would seem like I was not mingling, so I stood out of the way. I eventually found myself at the window where a striking woman was looking out across Michael’s backyard.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” I asked her.
She turned to look at me. “It is.”
I offered her my hand. “I’m Jory Harcourt-Kage.”
Her smile was warm. She was younger than I thought, perhaps mid-fifties. “I’m Gwen Donnelly from Aruba Marketing and—Harcourt?”
I chuckled.
She smiled wide. “I’m sorry,” she said, putting her other hand over her mouth. “I just—I had really wanted to speak to Dane Harcourt about our company headquarters near Jackson Hole, Wyoming, but he wasn’t available to meet with me.”