Page 11

Forget about the phone call from my mom that I’d ignored.
Forget about the voicemail I hadn’t listened to yet.
That alone should’ve been enough to will away my hard-on, but it wasn’t. When it came to Ashlee, my cock had a mind of its own.
“Your wine, sir.”
The sommelier held out the bottle I’d chosen, and I nodded. We went through the familiar motions of approval, had things at our table settled, and then he left, leaving Ashlee and me alone again.
“Please, continue.” I smiled at Ashlee, but the gesture felt stiff, unnatural.
“You really want to hear about Mom and me visiting America’s first lighthouse on our way back from Virginia Beach?”
“I do.” I swallowed a mouthful of wine, barely tasting it despite the fact that it was one of the restaurant’s finest vintages. My attention was focused on her.
“Haven’t you been there?” she asked.
“I have not.”
“Oh, well…um…” She twisted her fingers together, seemingly caught off guard by my abrupt statement. “It’s called the Cape Henry Lighthouse, and it’s near the Chesapeake Bay District. In 1789, this guy named Jacob Wray went to Alexander Hamilton about a need to keep the waterways safe. By 1792, the lighthouse was functional.”
I picked up one of the pumpernickel croutons and popped it into my mouth. We had a bowl of Saint Germain split pea soup between us, and I had no doubt that it was as delicious as it was every other time I’d come to La Grenouille, but I just didn’t have it in me to eat with my usual enthusiasm. It should have been easy here. A private room here never failed to impress.
“Mom’s always been more interested in the history part of things,” she continued. “I’m more about the visual, like a picture in my head, but hearing about how old it was made me see it differently. Like I could almost see these two men walking along the shore, discussing the best place to put the lighthouse.”
I wasn’t actually interested in the history of a lighthouse, but I enjoyed the way Ashlee looked when she talked about it. She appreciated things I never would have paid any attention to or even thought to look twice at. I could have driven past that lighthouse a hundred times and not even considered stopping to appreciate the beauty or the history.
“Have you?”
I blinked, realizing I’d lost track of what she was saying. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered for a moment there.” I reached out and put my hand over hers. “I’ll pay better attention.”
“I was just asking if you’d seen Hamilton.” She smiled, as if somehow knowing that I needed that extra reassurance that she wasn’t upset about my slip in concentration.
I shook my head. “I don’t get to the theater much.”
“Oh.” The word fell flat between us.
“What about you?” I asked, trying to hold up my end of a conversation. “Have you and your mom gone to the theater often?”
“We’ve seen a couple things off-Broadway,” she said. “And we’ve done the lotteries for some of the shows but haven’t won any of them.”
I made a mental note to get tickets for them both. I’d probably enjoy taking Ashlee with just the two of us too, but if it was something she and her mom wanted to do, I’d make sure they got to do it.
“What about you?” Ashlee asked. “I feel like I’ve been doing all the talking.”
She had been, but only because I hadn’t really given her much choice in the matter. Someone had to fill the silence.
“Honestly, when you take work out of the equation, there isn’t really much more to me.” I didn’t mean to sound brusque, but I wasn’t in the headspace right now to soften my usual edge.
Ashlee’s expression sobered. “That’s not true.” This time, it was her hand reaching for me, offering encouragement. “You are more than that job.”
Part of me wished I could believe her, but my mind kept going back to the voicemail I hadn’t listened to. What sort of man was I if I couldn’t even talk to my mom when she called?
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said abruptly, “I need to step out for a minute.” I stood before she could ask me for details. “I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t need to ask where I could go for some privacy. I’d frequented this establishment enough to know my way around. Once I was alone, I pulled my phone from my pocket and listened to the voicemail.
“Nate, sweetheart, it’s Mom. I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but I wanted to tell you that your brother’s back.”