Chapter 40
The ma?tre d’ smiled in recognition when Portia entered the restaurant. “Ms. Tremaine, how wonderful to see you. Please, follow me. Your party is already here.” As he led her past the other diners toward a more secluded table, her misgivings grew. Clutching her purse under her arm, she willed away her nerves.
This was so stupid. She shouldn’t be this nervous. Killian had called right after her mostly useless interviews with the street cookers. They hadn’t offered up much additional information, just the same story about burner phones and solid cuts of the profits. The lab building and equipment had been provided as well. Once again, her gut pointed to her father, but she had no proof. The only positive to come out of that interrogation was that the cookers didn’t appear to have connections to the organized gangs that ran some of the city’s drug rings.
Killian had caught her in a weak moment. She’d been so happy that he reached out, so thrilled to talk to a friendly face, that she’d immediately said yes. It wasn’t until after she’d hung up that the doubts had begun.
Was she ready to have dinner with Killian and his new wife—her sister!—in public? She could only imagine the headlines if the newsies found out.
“Your table, madam.” He gestured toward a table partially hidden by a cascade of plants. Killian and Dizzie smiled at her approach.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice betraying none of her inner turmoil.
The ma?tre d’ faded away and Portia was left facing her dinner companions.
“It’s good to see you, Portia.” Killian stood and placed his hand on the empty chair to pull it out for her.
An overwhelming sense of wrongness washed over her. She and Killian had frequently dined here, but Tommy had been their third. To see Dizzie in his place...
Her lungs froze. Suddenly she couldn’t get enough air. She couldn’t do this. “I’m sorry...” she blurted, before she turned and raced to the restrooms.
On autopilot, Portia smiled and nodded hello when people greeted her, but nothing stopped her until she reached the doors to the ladies’ lounge.
She flew through the doors—ignoring the startle gasps of the women in the lounge—and ran right into a sleek wooden stall. In her haste, the stall door banged closed behind her. She flinched, then locked it with shaking hands.
Portia hung her purse on the hook and watched it swing erratically back and forth while she tried to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding hard enough to burst out of her chest.
“Are you okay?” someone asked quietly from outside.
Portia sucked in enough oxygen to be able to answer. “Yes,” she said, forcing false cheer into her voice. “Just, uh, in a hurry.”
The woman laughed sympathetically. “We’ve all been there.”
Portia clamped a hand over her mouth to keep a hysterical laugh from escaping.
She couldn’t do this.
How was she supposed to do this for the rest of her life?
How was she supposed to look across the table—a table without Tommy—and see Dizzie?
But it wasn’t just that. When she, Tommy, and Killian had dined together, Killian had been the third wheel. Now she occupied that role and to be honest, she hadn’t expected it to hurt this badly.
Dabbing her eyes with a wad of toilet paper, Portia stared at the wooden door. How was she supposed to go out and face them after running away like that? All she wanted to do was disappear into the floor.
Just when it had felt like she had things under control, the universe had knocked her back down. Her laugh turned into a sob.
Portia didn’t know how long she stayed in there. Voices came and went until, finally, she didn’t hear anyone else.
Then the outer door to the ladies’ room opened again.
“Portia?”
The last voice in the world she expected.
“Aleks?”
It couldn’t be.
She peered through the crack between the door and the wall. And there he was, dressed in a well-cut suit, looking like he’d walked out a high-end menswear catalog. In the ladies’ room. Her mouth dropped open and her brain fogged, just a bit.
Portia opened the door just enough to glare at him. “What are you doing in here?” she hissed. “This is the women’s restroom!”
“You looked upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Concern coated his words.
Her heart melted a little bit. She ignored it. “Are you following me?”
Aleks sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not following you. My employers decided to have dinner here tonight.”
Portia dropped her head against the door with a thunk. Of all the restaurants in the city... The universe must really hate her. “Did they see me?”
Please let him say no.
“I don’t think so. Mrs. Solveig might have seen Dizzie, though.”
“Ugh. That’s... almost worse.” “Almost” because Dizzie would have to deal with them, not Portia.
Aleks shrugged. “That’s not my problem. At least, not yet.” He stepped closer. “What’s the matter?”
“I...” She trailed off. No matter what he said, she couldn’t keep dumping Tommy on Aleks. It wasn’t fair to whatever was happening between them. She stepped out of the safety of the small cubicle. “Grief. It was grief.”
He grasped her shoulders and pulled her close.
She went willingly, melting into his chest. Aleks wrapped his arms around her. His woodsy cologne tickled her nose, bringing to mind cold nights in front of a fire. She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“What if someone comes in?” she worried half-heartedly. Her day was already ending spectacularly badly. What would be worse—the newsies, Dizzie, or Mrs. Solveig walking in on them? Right now, in the comfort of Aleks’s arms, Portia wasn’t sure she cared.
“The door’s locked,” he whispered against her cheek. “We have a couple minutes. Probably.”
Wrapped up in each other, they swayed slightly in the quiet room. Portia focused on his steady heartbeat as it thump-thump-thumped under her ear.
“How was your day?” she asked. The question felt completely natural. Was it too soon to feel that? It had to be too soon.
“Boring,” he told her. “Mrs. Solveig didn’t want to do anything but wait in their suite. She’s sure that Dizzie will change her mind and want to join them, so she spent the entire day waiting for her call.”
Portia shivered. She understood dwelling in grief, but Killian and Dizzie seemed truly happy. “That’s a lost cause,” Portia said.
“I know,” he said. “I’ve tried to get them to see it, but they insist that my implant is making me stupid.”
A growl rose from her throat. “You can’t let them get away with that.” She raised her head to look at him. “If they don’t recognize your potential, they don’t deserve you.”
“There she is,” Aleks crooned. “The most badass woman in the city.” He smoothed his hand over her hip. “Feeling better?”
She stared up at him. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Do what?”
“Get me riled up at the Solveigs so I forgot that I was sad?” It was kind of genius.
He shrugged, but a tiny smile played around his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “I’d kiss you for real, but it might mess up your makeup. Then people would start questioning the Ice Queen and we can’t have that.”
“No, can’t have that.” She trailed her fingers over his lapels. “Thank you for cheering me up.”
He put his knuckle under her chin and brushed the softest kiss over her lips. “You’ve got this.”
“I’ve got this.” She exhaled shakily.
Someone pounded on the door. “Hey! Why is this locked?” The outer knob twisted violently.
“It’s time,” Aleks said with a laugh. “Ready?”
Portia nodded. She wasn’t, really, but she didn’t have a choice.
“Go back into your stall. I’ll leave. Wait a little bit before you do.”
She nodded. “Thank you again.” She grabbed his lapel and kissed him again, a little harder. “Thanks for getting me out of this.”
Aleks held the stall door for her and Portia stepped back in. She moved as far back into the corner as she could, hoping they wouldn’t notice that one stall was already occupied.
Several women entered the restroom. Portia waited through a couple rounds of people coming and going before she flushed then slipped out of her stall.
Washing her hands, she stared at her reflection. She was still pale, so she splashed a little water on her cheeks, gave them a little slap. Aleks was right. She could do this. She could do hard things. With a deep breath, she opened the door... and stepped into chaos.