34. Jude
JUDE
“What’s that?”
“Lapis Lazuli. Supposedly, it aids those seeking truth,” Slade murmurs, turning the small stone between his fingers, before tucking it into his pocket.
His expression closes off and he stares out of my apartment window at the street below. I move to his side and look at a small girl with dark hair who’s caught his attention.
“You’re thinking about your niece, aren’t you?”
“I don’t even know how old she is.”
“Three.”
He looks at me, and I shrug. “I Googled you a lot when I found out who you were. Some information about your family came up. I think they try to keep their lives private. Haven’t you ever looked?”
“Not if I can help it. What good would it do?”
His jaw is set as he looks back out at the street, but the little girl has gone.
“I wish I didn’t have dinner with my parents tonight. I’ll call them and cancel.”
“Don’t. You need to see your family.”
“You’ve only just got here. We should be together. We need to talk and—”
“Where is it?”
“A small Italian place a few blocks from here.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“What?” I gape at him. “Is that… Can you? What if someone sees you?”
“My family won’t be in this neighborhood. And I’d like to meet both of your parents.”
I fight to school my expression and not show how much his suggestion has shocked me. But I guess this has to happen sooner or later—him no longer hiding in the shadows anymore. I just didn’t expect him to be the one suggesting it so soon, before he’s seen his family.
“Are you sure?”
A muscle in his jaw clenches and his nostrils flare as he breathes in. “I’m sure.”
I slide my hand inside his, entwining our fingers.
Slade exhales, his shoulders softening. He came all the way to New York to find me.
And I’m beginning to understand what a colossal decision that was.
He left a continent he’s been bound to for the past three years.
This is him proving he’s ready to face his demons.
And whatever way he chooses to do that I need to support him.
“Okay then.”
We arrive at the restaurant before my parents, and Slade requests a quiet table when the ma?tre d’ asks where we’d like to be seated.
I’m fidgeting on the edge of my seat when he clasps my thigh with a firm grip.
“Calm down. It’s dinner with your parents. How bad can it go?”
“With my father? On a scale of one to ten? At least a million,” I grumble.
“I’m sure he’s not that awful to your admirers.”
I side-eye him, swooning at the subtle smirk that plays over his kissable mouth.
He’s brushed his hair back from his face and is wearing a white shirt and slacks.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed in something smart.
He looks incredible, and I didn’t miss the other diners’ heads turning as we walked past them to our table.
All of it combined with the cool confidence he has, and I’m getting a glimpse of what he would have been like a few years ago—a young, drop-dead gorgeous businessman playing an integral role in running his billionaire family’s luxury global brand.
I bet that was one hell of a sight.
“Is that what you are? My admirer?” I lean my chin in my hand, narrowing my eyes at him.
He squeezes my thigh, slowly running his eyes over me in my dress. It hugs all the right places and shows a hint of cleavage whilst still being appropriate for dinner with my parents.
“I’m always admiring you.” His gaze darkens.
I shiver, loving the way his attention is glued to me like no one else in the room exists. We’re busy staring into each other’s eyes with matching intensity when someone clears their throat.
The ma?tre d’ smiles politely as he approaches the table with my parents.
“Mom, Dad.” I fly to my feet while Slade rises more gracefully. “This is… Woody.” I turn and smile at Slade, then look back at my parents. Mom’s brows have shot up her forehead, and she blinks a couple of times before smiling.
“Woody. It’s so nice to see you. I’m Clara.”
“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Yardley,” Slade replies, kissing my mom on the cheek as she continues to study him, trying and failing to be subtle about it.
“Woody?” My father wrinkles his nose, not attempting to disguise his obvious disapproval.
Slade offers his hand, and my father reluctantly shakes it.
“Dr. Yardley,” Slade greets politely.
“Call me Clara, please,” Mom says as she sits in the seat my father pulls out for her.
“Dr. Yardley will do,” my father clips as he takes a seat beside her.
I sink into my own nervously, my eyes bouncing around the table. Slade seems relaxed, an easy expression on his face as my dad stares at him. It’s going as I expected, although maybe better, because Dad staring I can handle. It’s when he starts asking—
“And what exactly is it you do, Woody?” His eyes drop over Slade’s outfit, taking in his rough stubble and hair curling over his collar. His scowl deepens.
“I was working at a hotel and making carvings on commission,” Slade answers, seemingly unaffected by my father’s scrutiny, almost like he expected it.
“They’re beautiful, he’s really talented. You should see them,” I say, returning Mom’s smile as she looks genuinely interested.
“Oh, I would love—”
“And where exactly do you create these masterpieces?” Dad clips, cutting off my mom. “Do you actually sell any? Or are you one of those starving artist types?” He waves a hand in the air dismissively.
“Roy,” Mom hisses.
“I do sell them,” Slade replies, remaining so cool I’m going to have to ask him to teach me how. “But I’m taking a break right now while I’m between employment.”
My father snorts, signaling the server. “Let’s order, shall we?”
Dinner passes with my mother and I holding it together, making small talk while my father glares at Slade across the table, and makes the odd snort or comment at Slade’s perfectly suitable answers to my mother’s polite questions.
She seems genuinely interested in his art and his stories about what activities he helped Mel and me participate in on our trip.
Dessert arrives and I breathe out in relief that we’ve almost survived unscathed. Then I notice my father’s attention glued to my neck. My cheeks heat, and I reposition my hair, but it’s too late. He’s seen the angry-looking love bite Slade left there.
“Jude was going to marry a surgeon,” my father announces suddenly, making me drop my spoon onto my plate with a loud clatter.
“Dad,” I plead.
“Roy,” Mom mutters like she’s embarrassed.
He leans across the table, pointing at Slade. “Did she tell you about him? About his family? She would have been looked after. Set for life.”
Slade takes his time leaning over the table, mirroring my father’s stance, but doing it in a way that’s open and full of confidence.
And just like that, I have the hots for him even more.
“Dr. Yardley. Jude can be set for life through her own means. She works hard, and she’s brilliant at what she does. So brilliant that Fortune magazine featured her as a visionary leader in the medical administration field, as I’m sure you know.”
I shift in my seat. I left the recent article out on my coffee table. Slade must have read it.
My father clears his throat. “We have it framed.”
I whip my eyes to him in surprise as Slade continues.
“Your daughter deserves better than a man who cheats on her and doesn’t understand how lucky he is that she even looks in his direction. Would you really want her to marry someone like that purely because he’s a surgeon, like yourself?”
My father’s face reddens. “Now, just a minute. Callum—”
“Is an asshole,” Slade interjects. He turns to my mom. “My apologies for the language, Clara.”
“I think you’re being rather reserved compared to what I’d call him,” Mom says.
Slade looks back at my father. “He’s an asshole who, if your daughter hadn’t taken pity on, would be in hospital, or worse, after the way I caught him mauling her two nights ago.”
“At the medical dinner? Are you okay?” Mom gasps.
“Jude, is that true?” My father’s voice drops low.
“I’m fine. He’d had a few drinks and had a hard time letting me go when I asked him to.”
I flick my eyes to Slade and his gaze hardens, knowing I’m playing it down. But it’s so my parents don’t worry, not to paint Callum in a better light.
“I think he’s accepted that we have no reason to speak to one another again now,” I add.
The table falls silent, and my father looks at Slade, his lips downturned as he studies him.
“I’m going to the restroom.” I pause before rising from my seat. Mom nods at me, indicating she’ll stop the two men from tearing into one another while I’m gone.
Moving as quickly as I can, I head to the bathroom and take a deep breath, fixing my hair afterward. It could be worse. There’s no blood. Yet.
I try to open the door that leads back into the restaurant, but it’s jammed.
“Not again,” I huff.
First the medical dinner, now this restaurant. Bathroom doors seem to have a thing against me. I look around, but all the stalls are empty. I’m in here alone.
“Hey?” I call out, trying the door for a few minutes before banging on it. “Hey, the door’s stuck. Can anyone hear me?”
“Jude?” My mother’s voice calls from the other side. “You were gone a long time. We were getting worried.”
“Mom? Wait? Have you left them alone?” I splutter.
“They’re fine, getting on great.”
I roll my eyes. That could mean anything.
“Can you get one of the staff, please? The door’s stuck. Maybe they know the secret to making it move.” I try the door again but it’s as if it’s bolted shut.
“Okay. Hang tight.”
I lean back against the door and wait for Mom to come back. Less than a minute passes before the door handle rattles forcefully.
“Jude? Are you okay in there, Baby?”
Slade’s voice is so deep and gruff and full of concern that I clench my thighs together.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“The staff’s here, Jude,” Mom calls.
“What’s going on?” my father says.
“Jude’s stuck inside,” Mom explains as the door handle rattles again.
“I’m the restaurant manager, don’t worry, I know how to fix it,” a man says.
“Thank goodness,” my father says. “She faints in enclosed spaces.”