CHAPTER 10

~ SIMON

Dinner finally wrapped, and Jamie shot up from the table so fast she nearly sent her chair clattering to the floor. I watched her disappear down the hallway, heading toward the quieter part of the house, and I knew instantly I better follow.

I found her in a tucked-away corner near an old bookshelf crammed with dusty hardcovers. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Eyes flashing in a way I was already starting to recognize way too well.

"What the hell was that?" she whispered, voice low but urgent. "The surgeon story? Did you just make all of that up?"

I leaned against the wall next to her, a grin spreading across my face. "My little piece of breaking news? I told you, Counselor. Found out last week on the tennis court."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't play tennis."

"I do. Badly, but I do." I shrugged. "You women go to the salon. We men gossip on the court. It's the law of nature."

"Simon."

"What?"

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?" She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Or was that it?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw the name on the screen: Dad.

"I need to take this," I murmured, stepping a few feet away. "Hey?"

"Simon! Thank God!" My father's voice came through tight—relieved and worried all at once. "Where are you, son? Are you safe?"

"I'm in Westchester, Dad. At the grandmother's house of a... friend." I glanced at Jamie, who was watching me with open curiosity. "Why? What happened?"

"You're not watching the news? A hurricane shifted course and it's barreling toward New York. They're telling everyone to stay off the roads. Highways are a mess and some are already shut down."

I walked to the nearest window and pulled the curtain aside. Outside, the rain was starting to come down hard.

"Seeing it now," I said, my voice dropping lower. "Looks like it's hitting here too."

"Stay where you are, Simon. Don't try to drive back. I heard on the radio the bridge could close any minute. Stay safe, you hear me? Don't do anything stupid."

An involuntary smile tugged at my mouth. My dad. Always worried. Even pushing forty, he still talked to me like I was sixteen and about to take the car out in a downpour.

"I'm fine, Dad. I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

"You actually mean that?" His voice carried suspicion.

"Promise. I'm staying put until this blows over. Not touching any highway."

A relieved sigh came through the line. "Good. Good. Stay safe, son. Let me know when you get back to your apartment, alright? Or if you need anything."

"I'll let you know, Dad. Don't worry."

"I love you, Simon."

"Love you too, Dad. Talk soon."

I hung up and stood there a moment, watching the rain batter the window. Droplets streaked down in erratic patterns, distorting the garden outside. The sky was darkening by the minute, and the wind was starting to thrash the trees.

"Who was that?" Jamie's voice came from behind me, curious.

I turned to face her. "My dad." I slid the phone back into my pocket and took a step toward her. "Looks like we're stuck here for the afternoon. There's a hurricane over New York. They're closing down the roads."

Her eyes went a little wide. "Hurricane?"

"Yeah. Caught everyone off guard." I shrugged. "My dad basically forbade me from setting foot on the road. He's worried sick."

Something softer passed across her face. "Your dad sounds... sweet."

"He is." A real smile slipped out before I could stop it. "He's the one who cooks Christmas dinner every year and still builds snowmen in the yard like he's eight years old. And when I decided to start my own company seventeen years ago, he sold his house to help me get the capital."

Jamie blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"He sold his house. For you."

"Didn't think twice."

She stared at me for a few beats, and then a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Before I could respond, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Oliver and Vanessa were approaching—him with his hand on her belly, whispering something that looked way too intimate to be overheard.

Instinctively, I turned to Jamie and caught her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up. Her eyes went wide, pure surprise.

"Don't move," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

She swallowed hard but held still. Her eyes flicked sideways, tracking Oliver and Vanessa as they passed us. They didn't stop, but I saw Oliver's jaw tighten as he walked by.

"That mouth of yours is going to be the death of me," I said, loud enough for the ex to hear.

She blinked, thrown.

"My mouth?"

"Mmhm." My gaze dropped to her lips, unapologetic. "You make that pissed-off face and expect me to just stand here looking at it?"

"I'm not making any face."

"You are." I brushed my thumb lightly across the corner of her mouth. "It's the exact same face you make when you catch me in the conference room, rereading my meeting minutes with that 'what did this idiot do now?' look."

She stopped breathing.

"Simon..."

"You know what that does to me?" I murmured, my voice coming out rougher than I meant it to. "It turns me the hell on, Counselor."

She swallowed. Her eyes dropped to my lips for half a second before snapping back up.

"This is getting weird," she muttered, clearly no longer sure if this was still part of the act.

I was about to lean in, about to close the gap between us, when I heard Oliver cough from down the hall, followed by the click of a door shutting.

Jamie's eyes went wide again.

"They're gone," she said, her voice a little hoarse.

But I couldn't stop looking at her mouth. The way it moved when she spoke. The way it was slightly glossy. The way it looked like an invitation even when she wasn't trying.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because," I said, my voice lower than I intended, "I'm trying to figure out if you've always had that mouth, or if it just became like that right now."

The storm roared outside, and for a moment I completely forgot where we were.

"Jamie!" Her mother's voice echoed through the house. "Come sing happy birthday to your grandmother!"