Page 125 of The Associate
“So,” she said, her fingers fiddling with her paper napkin. “We have some news.”
Samuel looked between them, his curiosity piqued. Chloe was beaming, her hand finding Penny’s under the table.
“We’re getting married,” Penny said.
The words hung in the air for a second. Samuel stared. Then a wide, uncontrollable smile broke across his face. He didn’t think. He was on his feet, sliding out of the booth, and moving to their side. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Penny, pulling her into a tight hug. He could feel the fine tremble of excitement in her shoulders.
“Penny,” he said, his voice thick with emotion right next to her ear. “That’s… God, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of you.”
He felt her arms come around him, her grip fierce. She hugged him back just as tightly, her face pressed into his shoulder. When he pulled back, her eyes were bright, a sheen of happy tears making them sparkle. She looked at Chloe, and the love between them was so palpable it seemed to warm the air around their booth.
Samuel turned and hugged Chloe, who laughed and squeezed him. “Congratulations,” he said. “To both of you. Seriously.”
He sat back down, his heart feeling too big for his chest. He looked at his friend, this woman who had once sat acrossfrom him on a terrible, strained date, both of them trapped in different versions of the same lie. Now, here she was, in a diner that smelled of home fries, holding the hand of the woman she loved, planning a future. It felt like a victory.
“Tell me everything,” he said, leaning forward. “When? Where? Do you need a pickle procurer for the wedding? I have connections.”
Penny and Chloe shared another look, this one more pointed. Penny took a sip of her water, then set the glass down carefully.
“Well,” she began, her gaze locking onto Samuel’s. “That’s the other part of the news. We’re keeping it small. Really small. Just Chloe’s family. And…” she paused, a small, vulnerable smile touching her lips. “The people who are family by choice.”
Samuel nodded, listening.
“Chloe’s sister is going to be her person,” Penny continued. “And I…” She reached across the table and took Samuel’s hand. Her fingers were warm. “I want you to be mine. My Man of Honor.”
Samuel’s breath caught. He looked from their joined hands to Penny’s earnest, hopeful face, then to Chloe’s encouraging smile. The noise of the diner seemed to recede. A sudden, fierce heat prickled behind his eyes.
“Me?” The word came out hoarse.
“You,” Penny said firmly, her grip tightening. “Who else? You’re my friend, Sam. My best friend. You were there in the trenches. You get it. I can’t imagine standing up there without you.”
A tear escaped, tracing a hot path down Samuel’s cheek. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. He nodded, his throat too tight for speech at first. He swallowed hard.
“Yes,” he managed, his voice cracking on the single syllable. He cleared his throat, a watery laugh escaping him. “Yes, of course. Absolutely. I would be… I’d be honored. Really.”
Penny’s face broke into a dazzling, relieved smile. She let go of his hand to wipe at her own eyes with a laugh. “Good. Great. Okay. Fuck, what a bunch of cry babies.”
Samuel laughed, the sound wobbly with emotion. He reached for his napkin and dabbed at his face. “Sorry. I just… yeah. I’ll be there. Whatever you need. Speech wrangler, dress consultant, pickle ambassador… I’m your guy.”
“We’re counting on it,” Chloe said, her eyes shining.
∞∞∞
The kitchen in Gael’s apartment was warm and filled with the rich, comforting smell of garlic, tomatoes, and browning cheese. Samuel stood at the oven, a faded apron tied around his waist, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He had spent the better part of the afternoon here, following a recipe he’d looked up online, wanting to surprise Gael when he got back from his monthly meeting with Landen, Sebastian, and the others at the Club.
He heard the soft beep of the keypad on the front door, then the quiet thud of it closing. Footsteps in the hallway. Samuel carefully pulled the heavy glass dish of lasagna from the oven, the cheese on top perfectly golden and bubbling. He set it on the cooling rack on the counter with a sigh of relief, turning just as Gael walked into the kitchen.
Gael had gone to the club straight from the office. He was still in his suit, the jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened. The severe, elegant lines of the fabric made his shoulders look broader, his frame more imposing. He looked rumpled and a little tired, but to Samuel, he looked devastatingly handsome.
He felt a familiar, warm rush of feeling, a sheer, uncomplicated delight at the sight of him.
I must look like a besotted fool, he thought. No wonder the entire office had guessed. If his face lit up like this every time Gael Wise walked into a room wearing a suit, it was a miracle they’d kept it secret as long as they had.
He shook his head slightly at his own thoughts, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he said. “I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite.”
Gael didn’t move. He stopped just inside the doorway, his eyes fixed on Samuel. He looked at the lasagna, at the mess of pots in the sink, at the salad waiting on the island. And then his eyes slid to Samuel. His expression was intense, but it wasn’t the sharp, assessing look Samuel knew from the office, or the dark, hungry look from private moments. This was something else. Softer. Deeper. It made Samuel’s stomach give a slow, uneasy flip.
“Gael?” he asked, the smile fading from his lips. Uncertainty crept in.
