Page 24 of The Spare
“That’s quite a shiner.” He took a sip from his glass and his brow furrowed; the deep wrinkles against his brown skin were more pronounced these days. His dark brown eyes were rounder as he laughed jovially. “Xander must have been upset.”
“I deserved it.” I let out a lighthearted chuckle. I sat up a little straighter. “Sloan said it wasn’t so bad.”
“My granddaughter has a big heart and propensity for white lies.” He laughed another deep, rolling laugh. “That's why she's a good lawyer.”
I smiled at the mention of Sloan. Even though I was the one who mentioned her. I couldn’t get her out of my head.
“How are things at work?” I knew what he meant. Work specifically for Sutton Industries was fine, but that wasn’t what he was asking.
“No misfires yet.” Our conversation was to be succinct. It was hard to gauge how much Henry knew about what was happening. For things to go smoothly, we decided to play everything close to the vest. “When do you think they’ll call a shareholder meeting?”
“Next one isn’t until the summer, as scheduled. The board can’t call an emergency one, not while I am around as CEO anyway.” He smiled.
I shifted in my seat and released a heavy exhale. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he assured me with a nod. “And thank you. I know this isn’t a simple request, but you’re the only one I trust with it. Henry and Sloan can’t know.”
I was well aware of how plausible deniability worked.
I shrugged. Lying to Henry was one thing, but this encompassed everyone. It felt like poison.
“Is that why you were gone?” he asked the billion-dollar question. “I was surprised you were away so long.”
I did get more work done from further away. Fewer distractions. It did feel like my life was paused for the time I was gone. But while my story wasn’t moving, everyone else’s ran right past me and left me behind.
I shrugged again. We shared a comfortable silence before he grilled me on other non-work-related things, the things you would expect from a mentor-turned-friend. To no one’s surprise, my answers were largely unsatisfactory for him. No chance of settling down anytime in the near or distant future. Disappointment painted his expression.
“Oh, and Marcus,” he stopped me as I prepared to leave. “Look after Sloan. You’ll be in London around the same time. I’d feel better knowing she’s got someone in her corner.”
“I’m still working on the last favor you asked me,” I reminded lightly.
“Last one, I swear.”
CHAPTER12
Sloan
Ispent the rest of the night with Xander. Marcus and Henry watched the football game, and Penelope went to bed early.
I spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out what exactly happened during the game earlier. As far as I could fathom, Xander was annoyed at Marcus for not spending time with him. The thought made my heart hurt for him.
He always used to put Marcus on a pedestal. He still did. Their parents passed away when he was a senior at Penn. After that, it was just the two of them. They had us, sure, but it was just the two of them in terms of an actual family.
“It’s probably easier for him around us,” I told Xander. “We aren’t his little brother. We don’t expect the same things from him.” We also didn’t remind him of all he’d lost.
“What doyouexpect from him?” He was annoyed. While there wasn’t anything in the way of romance between Xander and me, he did get oddly territorial when I became close friends with other people. Hence the animosity toward Penelope.
“I think the better question is, what do you?”
Excellent dodging, counselor.
The nickname Marcus gave me did things to me that I couldn’t explain. Goosebumps, butterflies, all of it.
“I don’t know…” He began, his mood had been deflated all day after the incident. “I want it to go back to how it was, when we all knew what was going on with each other because we were there.”
My heart sank at the thought that he’d be away from us again soon. “Come to London, Xan.” I knew that wouldn’t solve the problem, but it would make the next few months easier for both of us. “Stay at the house with me. It'll be like college all over again.”
“Your solution to my inability to move on from an idealized past is to pretend I don't have to?” He laughed. He’d already turned me down twice. A part of my request was selfish; if I had a live-in best friend, I would never be lonely. “You're a bad therapist.”
