16. Lenora
16
LENORA
H aving never entered into one before, I would have had no way of knowing this, but being in a secret relationship requires a lot of planning.
Despite the venue for Honor and Julian’s engagement party being only a five-minute drive from Holden’s house, and despite us getting ready there together, he has to drive me twenty minutes into town to the apartment. When I get there, I stand in the lobby, waiting for Dad and Sophie—who only live a few miles from Holden—to come pick me up.
Then, after the party, we get to do the whole thing in reverse.
We’re only a week into this, and I’m already tired of hiding that I am officially really ridiculously in love with Holden Ellinger. I’m not even a little bit confused or conflicted about it. If he wasn’t Dad’s partner, and if the history between him and my parents wasn’t so complicated—and gross—I wouldn’t bother with the subterfuge.
After all, if I could get over it, why can’t they?
The timing is bad, though, and keeping it quiet seems like the right thing to do, at least for now. Honor is getting married soon, and E&V is getting its ducks in a row for the big expansion. Their proposal was put before the city planning commission and passed with ease, which means it would be a very inconvenient time for one of the owners to put his fist into the other’s face.
So, I kiss my boyfriend goodbye in the car outside the apartment and go stand inside, waiting for my totally unnecessary ride. A quarter of an hour later, and we’re pulling into the parking lot of the country club where they’re holding the party, Dad grumbling about not being allowed to pay for anything, Sophie rolling her eyes and trying to distract him with the very low cut of her dress, and me wondering how long is really feasible for my relationship to be a dirty little secret.
“Let’s hide,” Sophie declares as soon as we’ve cleared the front doors, looping her arm through mine and steering me in the direction of the bar. Despite being a little early, the room is already filling with people. My grandparents are here, though thankfully appear to be wholly focused on Honor and Julian, and I get the sense that Sophie would rather push off the inevitable introductions as long as possible.
The restaurant borders a golf course, and the doors are standing open, filling the room with warm summer air and music from the six-piece band stationed on the patio. Honor is wearing white, her pale hair braided back from her face, glowing with happiness despite the onslaught of attention from elderly relatives. Her fiancé is glued to her side, shaking hands and beaming at everyone, so obviously over the moon at the prospect of marrying my sister.
Nobody attempts to talk to either of us as we grab cocktails from the bar and station ourselves behind a table in a far corner of the room. “I’m super excited to see Granny be mean to you, not gonna lie,” I tell her over the rim of my drink.
Sophie blanches. “Pretty sure Bram had words with her. I caught him muttering into the phone the other day, something about somebody not being a gold digger.”
“You do have the boobs for it.”
“ Thank you .” She sounds genuinely touched. “But do you really think she’ll be mean?”
I consider it. “Not mean , mean. But. She’s a rich, Connecticut grandmother. They’re not known for being free thinking. It always killed her that my parents never got married.”
Apparently unconsciously, Sophie glances down at her bare left hand, and there’s a tiny frown pulling at the corners of her lips as she returns to surveying the room.
“Do you want to get engaged?” I ask innocently, taking another sip of my drink.
Sophie’s expression pinches. “Just because Honor’s getting married doesn’t mean I need to as well. We don’t do everything together.”
Pretending I don’t notice the flush creeping up her neck seems kinder than calling her on it. Instead, I hum thoughtfully. “So, just to be clear, you wouldn’t want to know if Dad asked me about rings?”
Sophie—who is officially the most unchill person on Planet Earth, second only to my father—whips around to look at me, her bright green eyes all but bugging out of her head. “No, he did not.”
Stifling a laugh, I nod. “Last week, when you were looking at wedding venues with Honor. He caught me on the way back from my break. Just wanted opinions , you know?” It was pretty cute, too, he was all enthusiastic and asking a million questions, like he’d just decided to do it and needed to get everything in order as efficiently as possible.
Jeez. I’m thinking Dad’s dorking out over Sophie is cute now? Falling for Holden has made me soft.
Sophie is still staring at me, lips pressed together and eyes shining. “If you’re lying to me, I’m going to pull down your shirt and give you a double titty twister right in the middle of the office.”
“The proper workplace terminology for that is nipple crippler , Sophie. God, you’re going to get us sued. Not that we’ll have to worry about it, because I’m not lying to you.”
Another look at the bare ring finger, but this time, her expression is full of poorly suppressed glee. “Don’t tell me anything. Even if I beg.”
“Fine.”
“Just let me ask one little?—”
“Sophie!”
“Fine! Jeez!” She hurries to look away from me, taking a sip of her drink. “You’re being very nice to me lately, it’s a little worrying. Are you dying?”
I roll my eyes, looking back across the room to where Honor is being assaulted with hugs by our great-aunt. She looks like she could use a hand, but I stay where I am, nursing my drink.
A waiter pauses beside us, bearing a tray of mini egg rolls. “Do you mind if we just take that?” asks Sophie innocently, reaching up to take the whole tray from the man before he can stop her and settling it on the table—which is only a few inches wider—between us. He blinks at her, obviously taken aback, but moves on.
I take a bite and nod my approval. “Oh, that’s solid. Glad we have thirty-six of them.”
“Exactly like normal egg rolls, but smaller and twice the price.”
“They can afford it,” I reply, indicating my sister and Julian.
Despite myself, I scan the room, searching for a familiar set of broad shoulders and light blond hair.
“Seriously though, are you doing okay?” Sophie asks, nudging me with her elbow. “I haven’t seen much of you outside work, and then at dinner the other night, you performed that vanishing act.”
Yeah, because, just like her, I am busy banging my boss.
I take a long drink, finishing the glass. “I’m fine. How’s living with Bram Cracker going? Are you going to want your bedroom back any time soon?”
A pink flush crawls up Sophie’s neck, and she studies her latest mini egg roll with a little too much interest. “Probably not,” she admits at last. “I’ve learned how he likes the Tupperware stacked, so the last big point of contention has been settled.”
I snort. “I forgot he’s weird about that.”
“He’s weird about lots of things.” She lets out a dreamy sigh and props her chin on her hand to better facilitate gazing across the room at my father, who is talking to a cousin.
For my own sanity, I choose to overlook that comment and not think it’s sex related.
“Hey, guys!” Honor has escaped the clutches of our aunt and is approaching, her smile radiant. “How is everything?”
“Terrible,” I report promptly, holding up an egg roll for her to see. “Look at this thing. Half the size of a normal egg roll. You should complain.”
Sophie nods in agreement. “We have to eat two just to get the normal egg roll experience, and probably another to help with the trauma.”
Honor isn’t fazed, leaning against the table across from us. “I would argue that the crunchy end parts are the best, so you’re getting twice the enjoyment. Three times, if you count Sophie’s trauma tax.”
“I’ll see you in court, ma’am.” I take another drink and almost choke on it as my heart shoots into my throat. Over my sister’s shoulder, Holden is entering the room. He’s dressed all in black, his pale hair combed back, and his usual careless smirk in place. I watch as his bright eyes scan the room, clearly searching for someone, and come to rest right on me.
“Len?” I blink, looking around at Honor and Sophie, both of whom are staring at me, bemused. Almost in slow motion, both of them turn to look at what caught my attention, and when they look back at me, they’re wearing identical, shocked expressions.
Uh oh.
Honor recovers first. “Um.” She glances over her shoulder again, toward where Holden has now fallen into conversation with Julian. “Were you just checking out Holden?”
“Nope.”
“You were!” giggles Sophie, who is now polishing off a second flute of champagne and has lost whatever semblance of chill she ever possessed. “Do you have a crush, Lenora?”
“Shut up.” I push off the table and hiss as pain shoots up my leg and into my spine. I lift off it immediately, clinging to the edge of the table, expecting it to fade. It doesn’t, though, and my stomach churns with a sudden burst of nausea.
In the corner of my eye, Honor and Sophie seem to register something is wrong. “Are you okay?” my sister demands, at my side in an instant, her eyes wide. I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from crying out as I let the limb drop a quarter of an inch and am rewarded by another burst of agony.
What the fuck?
What the everloving fucking fuck?
“I’m fine. Seriously. It just needs a second,” I grit out, trying not to panic.
My surgeon warned me after my second surgery that I was at a greater risk for another tendon rupture, but that’s not what this is . It isn’t. I’ll be fine if I just have one more second to stand here—“Leni.” Holden is at my side, blocking me from the view of the other guests except my sister and Sophie. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay or what he can do to help. As I look up at him, my chest burning with grief and denial that is just as intense as the pain I’m in, he seems to know. “Come here.”
Apparently not giving a damn that we’re in a room full of people, he lifts me into his arms, apologizing under his breath as I make a muffled sob of pain at the unexpected movement, looping my arms around his neck.
“I’m taking her to the emergency room,” Holden informs someone, probably my sister, before turning toward the door. We don’t make it far, though, before my father intercepts us.
“What’s going on?”
“My leg.” I manage an apologetic smile, even as my eyes burn with unshed tears. “Holden is going to take me to the hospital. I’ll call you when I know more.”
Dad’s eyes flick to his partner, then back to me, then back again. His jaw hardens. “I’ll take you.”
“Dad, it’s Honor’s engagement party. You need to be here,” I remind him, mortified as people begin to murmur around us. “I promise, I’ll let you know when I talk to the doctor. There’s nothing you can do by coming with me, though.”
Holden nods, and I can tell by the tension in his body that he’s barely holding it together. “I’ve got her, Bram.”
He doesn’t wait for Dad to respond. Without another word, he sweeps me from the room, striding back through the restaurant lobby and out into the parking lot.
“It really hurts,” I blubber, trying to quell the rising tide of panic. “I think my tendon repair ruptured. I don’t want more surgery.”
Pressing his lips to my temple, Holden shakes his head. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Len. I’m not leaving your side.”