Page 108 of Rush

I’m trying to keep the peace for Philippa and to keep the promise I made to Mom.

The banquet hall had been transformed into a sea of white florals. Every table gleamed with sunlight pouring in through tall windows, and the air smells like fresh pastries and overpriced roses.

Breakfast foods were laid out for the taking—fruit, mini quiches, smoked salmon, enough carbs to soak up last night’s indulgence.

We pile our plates high before Riley and Jack veer off toward the table where Carole and my father are seated—conveniently right next to ours.

“Jack!” Philippa calls out.

“There she is!” he says, pulling her into a quick hug.

“Thank you for coming,” she gushes, a wide smile spread across her face.

“Of course.” I can see the glassiness in his eyes, of the two of us, Philippa resembled our mother the most, though lighter in hair, eye and skin color, everything else was a spitting image. I watch as she introduces Andrew to him and they shake hands and share pleasantries. Philippa returns to her seat next to Sienna. While Andrew heads to the buffet tables.

I take the seat beside Broderick.

“I hope you don’t assault the waffles this time,” Broderick says low, his voice brushing against my ear.

“No, the waffles are safe today,” I murmur, smiling as I cut a piece of bacon and pop it into my mouth.

I let out a quietmmm, just loud enough forhimto hear.

His thigh presses against mine under the table. I shoot him a cheeky glare, the memory of last night flashing behind my eyes—wet skin, hot breath, his mouth on me,everywhere.

He smirks. Then winks.

And just like that, I have to shift in my seat.

Andrew pulls up a chair beside him, giving me a careful glance—I’m sure he’s glad I’m still here and he’s still alive.

“Good morning, Andrew,” I say sweetly and I can tell it catches him off guard.

“You’re extra chirpy this morning, Elena,” Broderick says knowingly pressing a mug to his lips.

Oh he wants to play.Okay.

“Yeah,” I hum, taking a sip of orange juice. “I had a good scream last night.”

Broderick nearly chokes on his coffee.

Philippa turns, eyes wide, practically glowing. “Oh myGod, you should haveseenus,” she says, beaming. “We were like barefoot lunatics running through the gardens. I screamed so loud it echoed.”

I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing as Broderick turns to me slowly—clearly trying to decide if Philippa’s talking about the same kind ofscreaminghe thinks I’m referring to.

His expression is priceless. Confused. Intrigued. Just the tiniest bit smug.

I shoot him a look over my glass.

Not those screams, you menace.

“So,” I say, turning to Andrew with a grin, “did those screams have the intended results?”

Philippa shrieks, half-mortified, half-delighted. “Elena!”

But she giggles, cheeks pink as she ducks her head.

Andrew just laughs and shrugs, raising his mimosa—guilty as charged.