Chapter 5 Atticus #3
Conversation flows more easily than I expected as we order drinks and lunch. Levi's questions about Blackwood's plans are direct but fair, and I find myself explaining our approach with less corporate jargon and more genuine enthusiasm than I normally would.
"The key is integration, not imposition," I explain as our food arrives. "Hope Peak has a character worth preserving. Our goal is to enhance what's already here, not replace it."
"That's not usually how corporate expansion works," Levi observes, though his tone lacks the skepticism from our earlier meetings.
"We're trying something different." I glance at Sloane. "Thanks to some excellent local guidance."
"Sloane's good at that," Mindy agrees. "She convinced half the town to switch to energy-efficient lightbulbs last year just by explaining the benefits over coffee."
"I'm persuasive," Sloane shrugs, but I can see she's pleased by the recognition.
The twins, having finished their chicken tenders with impressive speed, are growing restless. Emma tugs on her mother's sleeve, whispering something that makes Mindy laugh.
"Emma wants to know if you're Sloane's boyfriend," she says, eyes dancing with amusement.
I choke slightly on my water, feeling a flush rise to my face. Beside me, Sloane goes very still.
"Emma!" Levi admonishes, though he looks more entertained than embarrassed. "That's not something we ask adults."
"But Mommy said they look at each other like you look at her," Emma protests, completely unrepentant.
The silence that follows is excruciating. I glance at Sloane, finding her cheeks tinged pink, though there's a hint of a smile playing at her lips.
"Well," she says finally, "that's a complicated question, Emma."
"Why?" Ethan pipes up. "You either are, or you aren't."
Out of the mouths of babes. I clear my throat, making a split-second decision. "You're right, it should be simple." I look directly at Sloane. "I'd say we're... figuring it out."
Her eyes widen slightly, but the smile that spreads across her face is worth any discomfort. "That's a good way to put it."
"See?" Emma says triumphantly to her brother. "Figuring it out. Like a puzzle."
"I'm good at puzzles," Ethan declares, crisis apparently averted in his four-year-old mind.
The adults laugh, tension broken, and the conversation shifts to safer topics, the upcoming winter festival, the children's holiday pageant, the charity auction next week.
As lunch winds down, Mindy corrals the twins for a bathroom trip, leaving Levi, Sloane, and me at the table.
"For what it's worth," Levi says once his family is out of earshot, "I think you're good for each other."
Sloane blinks in surprise. "That obvious, huh?"
"To anyone with eyes." He takes a sip of his coffee. "Look, Morgan, I've known Sloane since she was stealing apples from my family's orchard at age ten."
"I paid you back," Sloane interjects. "Eventually."
"My point is," Levi continues, "she's one of the best people in this town. She believes in you, in what you're trying to do here. That counts for a lot with me."
I'm not used to such straightforward conversations about personal matters, especially from someone who was a business adversary mere days ago. But there's something refreshing about the lack of corporate politics, the absence of hidden agendas.
"I appreciate that," I say simply. "And I don't take her faith lightly."
"Good." He nods, apparently satisfied. "Because if you hurt her, corporate merger or not, this town will make your life very difficult."
"I believe it," I reply, respecting his loyalty.
"And on that threatening note," Sloane says brightly as Mindy returns with the twins, "who's ready for dessert?"
The rest of lunch passes pleasantly, and by the time we step back onto the snow-covered sidewalk, I feel like I've passed some unspoken test. Levi's handshake is warmer as we part ways, and Mindy insists we join them for dinner sometime next week.
As we walk back toward the HQ building, snowflakes begin to fall again, dusting Sloane's hair with tiny crystals that catch the afternoon light.
"That went well," she observes, voice light. "'Figuring it out,' huh?"
"Too much?" I wonder, suddenly unsure.
"No." She reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together publicly for the first time. "It was perfect."
I stop us beneath the town's massive Christmas tree, its lights twinkling even in the daylight. "Sloane," I begin, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. "About tonight...”
"Dinner with your mother?" she guesses. "I'm actually looking forward to it."
"You shouldn't be," I warn. "She'll be insufferable once she confirms her suspicions about us."
"Let her." Sloane steps closer, snow falling around us like we're in our own private snow globe. "I can handle Vivienne Morgan."
"I know you can." It's one of the countless things I admire about her, her fearlessness, her ability to face any situation with confidence and grace.
She studies my face, reading the concern there. "What is it? What's really bothering you?"
I exhale slowly, watching my breath cloud between us. "This is all happening so fast. Not that I'm complaining, but... twenty-four hours ago we were still pretending there was nothing between us, and now we're holding hands in public and having dinner with my mother."
"Having second thoughts?" Her voice remains steady, but I catch the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.
"God, no," I assure her quickly, tightening my grip on her hand. "But I'm not used to feeling this... unguarded. Especially not in a professional context."
Understanding softens her features. "We can slow down if you need to. Set some boundaries."
"That's just it," I admit. "I don't want to. For the first time in my life, I don't want to calculate every move, analyze every potential outcome. I just want to be with you, consequences be damned."
Her smile is radiant, warming me despite the falling snow. "Atticus Morgan, throwing caution to the wind? I never thought I'd see the day."
"You bring it out in me." It's the truest thing I've ever said. "You always have."
She rises on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, brief but undeniably intimate, right there in the center of town for anyone to see.
"For the record," she murmurs as she pulls away, "I feel the same way."
Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls Sloane's name. We turn to find Tessa waving from the doorway of The Velvet Book across the street.
"Rain check on this conversation?" Sloane asks, already waving back.
"Go," I tell her. "I need to check in with Marcus anyway. Dinner at six-thirty? I'll pick you up at your place."
"It's a date." She hesitates, then adds, "An actual date. With your mother. God, what are we doing?"
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in years. "Figuring it out, remember?"
She squeezes my hand once more before releasing it. "See you tonight. And Atticus? Wear the red tie. It brings out your eyes."
I watch her cross the street to greet Tessa, her confident stride and easy smile reminding me yet again why I've been half in love with her for years.
My phone buzzes with a text from my mother: The chef requires dietary restrictions by 3pm. Also, Charlotte Whittington sends her regrets for the gala. Such a pity.
I smile, typing back: No restrictions. And I'm sure I'll survive the disappointment.
Her response is immediate: I'm sure you will, darling. Particularly with Ms. Parker around to console you.
I shake my head, pocketing my phone without responding. Clearly, my mother knows more than she's letting on, or at least suspects enough to abandon her matchmaking plans. Tonight's dinner will be enlightening, to say the least.
As I head back toward the HQ building, snowflakes melting on my shoulders, I find myself looking forward to it with a surprising lack of dread. Because despite my mother's inevitable smugness and probing questions, I'll have Sloane beside me, my best friend, my... whatever we're becoming.
And somehow, that makes all the difference.