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I quickly reply, before getting up close and personal with my reflection, putting in the eye drops and wiping away the trails down my cheeks. Then I take a deep breath and head downstairs.
In my cream slip evening dress.
I roll my eyes to myself as I follow the signs to the Piano Bar, nervous as shit, and enter the stark white space. Even the grand piano is a glossy white wood. Jude’s sitting on the far side of the bar in a huge midnight-blue velvet chair, laughing. I momentarily forget where I am and what I’m doing here, captured by the head-spinning magnificence of him. Right now, he doesn’t look like a man who suffers with anything except being irresistible. But flashes of his anger, the pills, and his apishreactions say otherwise. Beautiful. Complicated. A work of art that you need to look closer at to see that, actually, it’s quite messy up close.
Eventually gathering my thoughts, I make my way over, taking in the man opposite him. He’s a looker too, his hair as thick as Jude’s but shorter and darker. He clocks me, his smile knowing, and his sudden diversion of attention has Jude craning his neck to find me.
“I guess this is her.” Jude’s brother stands and steps around the white table between them, as Jude stands too.
“This is her.” He smiles mildly. “Amelia, this is my biggest little brother, Casey.”
“Amelia.” Casey kisses both my cheeks. “You’re quite a surprise.”
What am I supposed to say to that? I look at Jude, and he shrugs. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Casey looks down my front. “Nice dress.”
I die a thousand deaths. “I didn’t expect to be here this morning.”
“Sit,” Jude says, lowering. I join them and accept the coffee Jude pours me, smiling my thanks.
“Yeah, I heard you had a heavy night last night.”
I throw Jude a disbelieving stare. He shrugs again. “Your brother’s embellishing.”
Jude snorts into his cup, and Casey laughs. “What do you do for a living, Amelia?” he asks.
“I’m a financial adviser,” I tell him, trying to keep my frown at bay. “It’s utterly boring.”
“And how did you two meet?”
So we’re skipping foreplay, are we? No gentle ease into conversation. I look at Jude, curious. He hasn’t shared that key piece of information, or what I do for a living? Because surely they’re among the first things a loved one would ask if you’ve declared you’ve met someone.How did you meet? Where did you meet? What does she do?Jude peeks up at me, remaining silent, relaxed in his chair as he cocks an elbow on the arm and an ankle on his knee.
“I was here with friends for a spa day,” I reply.
“Nice.”
“It was a birthday gift from my friend.”
“Generous friend.”
I laugh. “She got it for a bargain in the promotion.”
He frowns. “Promotion?”
Jude shifts in his chair, clearing his throat. “For the five-year anniversary,” he says. “We did a special offer on a limited number of spa days.”
“I see,” Casey muses, interested. “Since when do you run special offers?”
“Since now.” Jude’s tone is flat, a certain warning look in his eyes. I study him, curious. Tetchy. Why?
Casey backs off, his face thoughtful. “Sounds like you got more than a spa day for your money.”
“Casey,” Jude breathes, his look definitely darkening. Am I missing something? I feel like there’s a conversation going on that I’m not a part of.
“So you met on your bargain spa day and ...?”
“We met again when Arlington hosted an annual finance conference.” I’ll skip over the bits in between.
“And you host business conferences now too?” Casey says, amused. “Bargain spa days, boring business functions. Mother would turn in her grave.”