Page 31 of Charm

“Olive Irwin,” he says her full name to lure a smile to her face. “I promised I’d bring your mom back to you, and I did just that.”

Olive skirts around me to get down to Robby. She gifts him with a big hug. “Thank you, Robby.”

His brown eyes latch onto mine. “I should take off.”

Nodding, I smile. “I’ll text you before you start the new job.”

“New job?” Martha asks because her curiosity is a cornerstone of who she is. “That sounds exciting.”

“It is,” he affirms with a nod. “I’ll stop by this week and tell you all about it.”

“Good.” She wipes her hands on the red apron tied around her waist. “Come inside. I’ll pack up some dinner you can take with you.”

“Seriously?” he asks, his eyes brightening.

“Grandma makes the best biscuits,” Olive boasts, since they’re her favorite. “There’s soup, too, but those biscuits are the best.”

Robby shrugs. “I can’t say no to any of that.”

He rushes past me with my bags in his hands and Olive on his heel. They both disappear into my townhouse behind Martha.

Bruce smiles down at me. “We missed you, sweetie, but I’m glad you had a break.”

“Me too.” I rush up toward his open arms.

Bruce gives the best hugs. He’s a large man with bushy brown eyebrows and a crooked smile.

“Our girl had a great weekend, too,” he whispers. “Thank you for letting us take her, Greer. Thank you for letting us love her.”

A tear falls down my cheek as I look up and into his face. “Thank you for loving us both.”

“We always will,” he assures me with a tight hug. “We’re family. Nothing on this earth can ever change that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Holden

“You’ve been wearingyour glasses full time for weeks now,” my brother points out as he walks into my office, dressed like he’s heading to a football game.

He’s sporting a baseball jersey that his wife gave him shortly after she gave birth. Sinclair thought it would be funny to purchase the blue and red accented jersey with the word “Daddy” printed on the back, along with a bright red #1.

I’ve been out on the streets of Manhattan with James when he’s been wearing the jersey, and the curious looks and propositions he’s been getting from women and a few men have brought some joy to my life I didn’t realize I needed.

“It’s been two weeks,” I correct him, since that’s when I came back from East Hampton after spending the weekend with Summer.

He picks up a pencil from my desk and taps the point against his palm. “Did you run your supply of contact lenses dry? Do you need bifocals, old man?”

A rush of hearty laughter falls from between my lips. “Fuck you.”

“You will always be older than me, Holden.” He scribbles a circle on the top of a pad of paper that I never use. “Hence, you’re an old man compared to me.”

I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I have more than enough contact lenses, and my prescription is spot on. I just like wearing the glasses.”

The truth is, they remind me of Summer. I’ve thought about her countless times since we said goodbye.

I have no doubt that a call to Mrs. Frye would end with me having Summer’s real first name. I pay Mrs. Frye handsomely to watch over my Hampton house when I’m not around, but beyond that, we’re friends.

The reason I haven’t taken that step is that Summer made it clear that the one weekend was all she wanted. Tracking her down in the ‘real world’ isn’t going to happen.