Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I bark out a surprised laugh. “Percy.”
“What?” he says innocently. “I’m old, not dead. I’m allowed occasional enthusiasm.”
I shake my head, still smiling despite myself.
Percy studies me briefly before speaking again, gentler this time. “You’ve always enjoyed female companionship,” he says carefully. “But I suspect this situation differs somewhat from the others.”
The understatement nearly makes me laugh again.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “It does.”
Percy nods. “I’m very pleased to hear it, sir.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. “You are?”
“Immensely.”
I look down into my wineglass, turning it once, slowly between my fingers. “She’s extraordinary,” I admit. “And she doesn’t seem to realize it yet.”
Percy smiles faintly. “Those are often the most extraordinary sort.”
Then Percy pushes away from the counter and folds his hands behind his back, slipping so naturally into that familiar fatherly posture he’s carried my entire life.
“You know,” he says, “there comes a point when honoring grief and living inside it become two different things.”
I look up slowly. Percy holds my gaze. “You have loved deeply before. I remember that time well.”
I say nothing.
“But loss is not meant to be a permanent residence, sir.”
He steps closer then, resting one hand lightly against the back of the chair opposite me.
“It is time,” he says quietly, “to allow yourself to move beyond your losses.”
I stare at my plate, unsure of what to say or do next. The truth is I don’t fully know if I’m ready for that… moving beyond. I don’t know if anyone ever truly is.
But I do know one thing with complete certainty now: Percy is right.
Whatever this is with Harper—it’s different. It’s not compartmentalized to fit neatly in one part of my life or a fling to provide relief and distraction from my everyday stress. The more I see of her, the more I want to see of her. And the more I’m with her, the more I want to be with her.
And somewhere beneath the fear and uncertainty and grief I still carry, I want to see where it all will lead.
Chapter 22
Harper
Julian’s townhouse looks even more beautiful and stunning at night. Its Gilded Age roots come to life, and I half expect to see kerosene lamps lighting the large bay windows.
When he and I step out of the Range Rover, the air is icy cold against my cheeks, but it barely registers anymore. Not when he reaches for my hand.
That still does a number to me every single time. We climb the steps together and before Julian can reach for the handle, the front door swings open, and there’s Percy.
“Good evening, sir,” he says before his eyes come to me, warming immediately. “And Ms. Hawthorne.”
Oh boy. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I’ve talked to Percy on a handful of occasions over the course of my employment with Julian, and he’s only ever known me as Mr. Langley’s driver. But now here I am, in a distinctly more personal role, and I don’t know what he thinks of me. Some Flavor of the Week in Julian’s rotation? Someone looking to move up the ladder by sleeping with the boss?
“Hi, Percy,” I say, stepping inside, then shedding my coat. I automatically turn to put it on a coat rack but there isn’t one and it’s weird to hand it to Percy to hang somewhere for me. “How are you?” I stammer.
“Thriving,” he replies, his accent that crisp British but with a clear layer of warmth to it. “The city has finally remembered how to really get into the winter spirit. It improves morale tremendously.”
His dry wit goes a long way in making me comfortable and I laugh softly. “I didn’t realize snow had such an emotional influence over you.”
“Oh, it does,” Percy says gravely as he hangs our coats. “Particularly when one no longer has to shovel it.”
Julian shakes his head behind me. “He becomes insufferable every winter.”
“And yet you continue inviting me back,” Percy replies.
I grin, already relaxing into the familiar rhythm between them. Julian had assured me that Percy is supportive of our relationship, and I can’t see anything to the contrary in his manners or words.
Percy makes this massive, intimidating townhouse seem homey. Despite the formality, everything he does is genuine.
And in such a short time, I’ve stopped feeling like a visitor here.
“I understand your brother has been away for the holidays,” Percy says as we move toward the dining room. “I’m sure you’re eager to have him home again.”
“I really am,” I admit, a little in awe that Julian shared that information. It goes a long way to helping me accept that Julian has me by his side as someone he cares about. “He’s itching to get back to Manhattan and cause havoc with his friends before the new semester starts. The apartment is way too quiet without him.”
“A healthy sign in teenage boys, I’m told,” he says. “And how is Abby?”