Page 42

Twenty-one
Henley
It was glorious, the look on Jessica’s face when she saw me walk in behind Tess.
“Come on,” I tell her when she stalls out mid-stride, looking like she’s seconds away from button-hooking around me to run out the door. “We’re sitting at the bar today.”
Before she can protest, I take her by the hand and pull her along behind me, my gaze focused on Jessica. Somewhere caught between rage and panic, she looked like she swallowed a handful of spiders.
I’m tempted to take out my phone and take a picture.
As soon as he sees us approaching, Declan gets busy wiping down the bar with the kind of laser-sharp focus you’d use to disarm a bomb. I shove Tess into a stool before sliding onto my own, as close to Jessica as I can get without sitting in her lap. “Jessica?” I say, angling myself in her direction, my tone overly bright. “Jessica Renfro—is that you?”
Left with no choice but to acknowledge me, she turns toward me. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“Seriously?” I laugh and roll my eyes. “Of course you know me. Henley… Henley O’Connell.” I flick my hair over my shoulder and tilt my head, making sure the diamond studs Spencer gave me for my twenty-first birthday catch the light and blind her. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me. We went to school together. You and your friends used to keep me company, walking home from school. How is Penny?”
“Ohhh…” she does her best to give me one of her mean girl looks. It’s good, but mine’s better. “I remember you now. I didn’t recognize you without all those freckles.”
“Don’t forget my nose job and the small fortune my new dad paid to fix my teeth.” I smooth the hem of my Chanel skirt along the curve of my knee. “It’s amazing what having billions of dollars at your disposal will do for you,” I say, letting my gaze trail over her knock-off shoes and last-season designer jeans. “You look… well.” Well comes out sounding like shit. I don’t give a good goddamn what’s she’s wearing, where she got it or how much it cost. I care that she cares. She hurts Tess, every chance she gets. For that, I hit her where it hurts. Jessica gets the full rich bitch experience.
“Henley.” From the corner of my eye, I can see Declan watching us carefully like he’s not sure where to step next. “Why don’t you and Tess find a table, I’ll have one of the waitresses—”
“No, thank you.” I shoot him a look that instantly shuts his mouth. “I’d like to watch the Sox game, if you don’t mind.” I angle myself toward Jessica again, pinning her with a friendly smile. “We made it to the World Series and I hear Ephraim Viaga is starting.” There is no game on and he knows it but before Declan can say so, I lean across the bar like I’m telling him a secret, loud enough for Jessica to hear. “He’s my neighbor—I saw him on the elevator, just the other day. He was with someone—blonde. Kinda skanky.”
Jessica’s mouth falls open and flaps a few times while behind me, Tess makes a snorting/coughing noise like she swallowed a laugh and is choking on it.
“You like the Sox, don’t you, Declan?” I say, going in for the kill. “I’d be happy to introduce you to Ephraim if you’d like. I’m sure he’d be happy to come to one of your—”
I sit back while Jessica jumps out of her seat like it’s on fire, snatching her knock-off Coach bag off the seat next to her before bolting for the door.
As soon as she’s gone, I turn toward Declan who’s still standing there, looking at me with the oddest mixture of confusion and apprehension. Before he can say a word, I slide out of my seat. “Now, we’ll go find a table,” I tell him, swiping menus we don’t need from the holder attached to the front of the bar. “And see if you can, dig up a bottle of champagne. I feel like celebrating.”
“I’m serious, Margo,” I say, taking the stack of books out of her hands. “Go home.”
She frowns at me and shakes her head. “I’ve been closing this library longer than you’ve been alive, Henley O’Connell—chased you out of here more than once.”
“And now it’s my turn to chase you out,” I say, angling myself away from her when she makes a grab for the stack of books I took from her. When she just frowns at me some more, I sigh. “I’m not supposed to tell you this by your husband called. He managed to get tickets to Hamilton. He was hoping to surprise you.” I balance the books on my hip and make a shooing gesture at her. “Curtain goes up at nine. I was supposed to have you out of here fifteen minutes ago.”
Margo stares at me for a second, dumbstruck. “Hamilton?” she finally manages while scrambling to collect her purse and coat. “How in the world did he manage that? That show sold out months ago”
The tickets were expensive. Box seats, complete with cocktail hour, dinner and limo service to and from. I should know. They were mine.
Instead of confessing, I shrug. “I don’t know, but you better act surprised when he springs them on you.”
Five minutes later she’s gone. I load the cart full of returns and wheel it over to the information desk where I use the intercom to make the the library will be closing in 15-minutes announcement while the security guard sweeps each floor, directing stragglers toward the main entrance. I spent the next few minutes answering questions and helping a couple of kids navigate the self-checkout machine.
Before I know it, I’m sending the security guard home and locking the doors. My two-hour champagne lunch with Tess put me behind schedule. I have a full cart of returns to shelve and I need to finish up and submit the grant paperwork to fund—
A hard-knuckled rap splits the quiet and my head jerks up, gaze aimed across the atrium and out the heavy glass doors. As soon as I see who it is, my stomach takes a flying leap at my throat before swan-diving toward my feet.
It takes my stomach a few moments to catch up to my brain. Tom Ford suit. Neatly trimmed hair. Cufflinks. Not a tattoo in sight.
Patrick. Not Conner.
Fighting off the wave of disappointment that the realization lets loose, I skirt the information desk and make my way toward the door.
“I’m sorry, sir.” I give him a thin-lipped, dour librarian smile through the glass. “The library is closed.”