Chapter 32
Loch
What has become of my life?
I don’t even recognize it anymore. That doesn’t upset me in the least. We haven’t even made it back to the city, and I already miss Tuesday.
The Escalade veers into the exit lane and off the highway. “Where are you going, Brady?”
“I’m hungry. Time for a pit stop.”
You have to love when the boss is told what’s happening after the decision is already made.
This time, I’m good with it. I’m not one to indulge .
. . at least, I wasn’t until I met Tuesday, but I could fucking devour a hoagie right now.
He parks at the pump to get some gas. I detour inside the large convenience store attached to the gas station. “What can I get you?”
He pulls the gas pump from the holder. “I’ll be inside in a sec.”
I go ahead and take a piss. By the time I walk out, I find Brady eyeing the corn dogs. “Anything fresh, like a sandwich or a salad?”
Side-eyeing me, he scoffs. “You’re kidding, right?” I’m not sure what part of that seemed like a joke, but he turns to me with his arms crossed over his chest. “Do you ever let loose, Loch?”
“Of course, I do. You’ve witnessed it for the past two months.”
“Ah, the Tuesday effect. I already miss it.”
“Gee, thanks,” I reply with sarcasm embedded in it.
I move a few feet, checking out the cold section of the counter display.
“The Tuesday effect,” I mumble, not going near their shrimp salad sandwich.
Skipping over the roast beef, I’m still bothered by what he said.
He’s just gotten a corn dog when I return. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s a corn dog, boss.”
“No. What do you mean by the Tuesday effect?” I have an inkling, but I need this defined for me.
Brady chuckles, then takes a bite off the top of the dog.
I admit by how he hums and the steam wafting off it that I’m tempted to try one.
“It’s when . . .” He starts talking with his mouth full but then stops to finish chewing.
“It’s the effect she has on you. It’s been, what?
” He references his watch. “Two hours tops, and you’re already back to the stiff lawyer with no life. You’re back to pre-Tuesday.”
Fuck it. I hold my finger up when the guy looks my way. “I’ll take one.”
He reacts with another hardier chuckle as he hits my chest with the back of his hand. “I’m talking about not living, eating salads and healthy all the fucking time, not veering from your regimen.”
I’m handed the corn dog and take a bite, and it’s actually pretty damn good. “Look, I’m breaking from my regimen right now. Happy?”
“How long will you spend in the gym to work that off tonight?”
“It shouldn’t take long—fuck, I see what you did there.”
He’s almost finished his corn dog and shaking his head when I realize I walked right into his trap.
“It’s not a trick, Loch. It’s living in the present, no schedule dictating your day, not being able to enjoy the simpler pleasures like a gas station corn dog or a forty-four ouncer of soda. ” He starts for the back of the store.
“You understand I’m here during a workday. I canceled billable meetings to ride to Rhode Island with her, knowing I’d be working this weekend to catch up.”
“You’d be working anyway, but I’m glad you gave her the time she deserves.” Grabbing a cup, he starts filling it with ice.
Fuck. I really don’t want forty-four ounces of sugar coursing through my body, but he’ll shame me with every slurp he takes if I don’t. I grab the damn cup. “I can let loose even without her here.”
“Yeah?” He glances, his expression contorted in disbelief. Skipping the ice, I go right for the soda. I’m not watering it down. If I’m doing this, I’m winning this round. “No ice, huh?”
“Ice is for wimps. I like my soda straight up for the full effect.” I rip off another big bite of my corn dog.
His shoulders shoot to his ears. “So you’d be up for a candy bar as well?”
“Fuck yeah. Bring it on.”
Laughing, he walks down the snack aisle and grabs one from the box. “Don’t you dare say Snickers are for wimps.”
It feels good to laugh. “Wasn’t going to, but real men eat the king-size Reese’s Cups. Just sayin’.” I leave him on the aisle and head for the register.
The blonde smiles as soon as I step up to the counter. She can’t be a day over forty, but her clothes skew younger. “Haven’t seen you before. You passin’ through town?”
“Yep.” Brady comes up beside me and shows her his snack supply. “Add his to my bill.”
Her eyes widen along with her smile. “Oh.” She fluffs her hair. “Hello.”
“Hey,” he replies, leaning against the counter like some convenience store Romeo.
Not sure what’s happening here . . . Actually, I know exactly what’s happening, but I don’t like it.
I tap the card to the reader and grab my stuff.
“I’ll see you outside.” Usually, I make a great wingman.
My brothers can attest. I’m not in the mood today to help him get laid, though.
I toss the soda after a few sips and lean against the vehicle until Brady comes out.
With Tuesday still on my mind . . . always, I text the private investigator to see if he’s found out anything else about her life. He replies a few seconds later: No. I’ll be in contact when I do.
I appreciate the confidence. Not if, but when he finds new details and clues.
Always jolly, he’s laughing when he pushes through the door, and aims the fob at the vehicle. The locks are released, and I start to get in. “Judge Judy wouldn’t approve of you flirting with another woman.”
“Don’t worry, she’s into that kind of thing. Anyway,” he says, eyeing me over the windshield. “We’ve run our course. I made sure she got bored of me.” He climbs in on the driver’s side.
“Too wild for you, huh?” I open the front passenger door and get in.
“I want to be with someone I can take home to meet my mom. Not someone who wants to role play as my mom. Ich.” He shakes his head as disgust makes him cringe.
Why does it not surprise me she tried that with him?
“What are you doing, Loch?”
“What?”
With a grin that he always seems to be wearing, he thumbs toward the back seat. “This is my domain up here. Get the fuck back there.”
It was all fun and games until Brady called the front his domain. So much for our bonding time. I get out and move to the back. “Take me to the office when we get to the city,” I say, not hearing any argument from him.
And just like that, we’re back to our pre-Tuesday relationship.
I’d forgotten about the party until I walked into the office.
Leisa rushes to me and places a sash around my neck that reads “Partner,” with a horrid drawing of a holster and a cowboy hat. There’s no fighting this embarrassment once the room erupts in a round of applause and laughter. I’m glad Brady isn’t here to bear witness to this embarrassing situation.
He refused to hang out after the corn dog conversation, claiming he had cooler friends to hang out with, but I know he’s joking. No one is cooler than me.
I chuckle, probably still high off the Reese’s Cups I devoured, or maybe I’ve just discovered my sense of humor again. I wish Tuesday was here to see this, especially since she planned the party.
“Congrats,” Leisa says. “We got cake.”
Great, more sugar. Bring it on. “Nice touch on the cowboy theme.”
“The partner reference made Tuesday laugh since there seems to be a lack of ‘attorneys making partner’ supplies on the party market. She said you’d lose it. I couldn’t tell if she meant laughing or your temper, but this is what she went with.” Looking toward the door, she asks, “Where is she?”
“Long story.”
Walking through the crowd, I’m shaking hands and getting pats on the back. Even the Reinhold Group execs are here to celebrate. Before we reach the cake, she whispers, “How about the short version?”
“She found out who she is.”
“What?” Her shock pulls my attention away from the clients ahead. I stop to look back to where she planted her feet, recognizing the emotions engulfing her face. I’ve felt it all day without minor distractions keeping it at bay.
She says, “I’m sorry . . . We’re happy for her, right?”
“Right. Happy for her.” I nod once and then turn to greet the clients. “Thanks for coming to celebrate.”
Shaking my hand, Mr. Reinhold says, “Life is good, Loch. Quite the success.”
It sure doesn’t feel like it with Tuesday gone. In fact, it feels the opposite. “Life is . . . yeah, a real success.”
“If it isn’t Lochlan Westcott, Esquire,” my younger brother’s voice booms across the office.
I turn to see both of them walking in. Mr. Reinhold says, “More Westcotts by the looks of it. You’ve got some competition.”
“They’re not attorneys, and we learned a long time ago not to let anyone come between us.” It would be unprofessional to share why that rule came about, so I keep it to myself. “Excuse me.”
Harbor is first, wrapping his arms around me. “You did it, brother. All your hard work has paid off. Congrats.”
“Thanks.”
He notices me looking for Lark. “She got called in, or you know she’d be here.”
Bottles of champagne are popped, and I hear that food is in the kitchen. Noah asks, “Where’s Tuesday?”
I have a feeling that’s the running theme tonight. “Long story.”
Leisa greets my brothers and offers to get us drinks. Noah steps up. “No way. I’ll get them. What are you having?” he asks her with a wink. Always turning on the charm. He doesn’t realize she’s immune to his antics.
I’m in no mood to party, so I ask Harbor to my office, shutting the door behind us. “The party’s great. The office deserves it more than my name being added to the letterhead.”
He sits on the couch. “It’s okay to let loose and celebrate your achievements, Loch.”
“You’re the second one to tell me that today.”
“Who was the first?”
“Brady.”
He chuckles. “My man knows what he’s talking about. You should be on top of the world, but you’re not, so what’s going on?”
Sitting at my desk, I tell him the story and how Tuesday went back to Rhode Island.
Noah eventually comes in and sets down two bottles of water. “Who’s the hot new hire?”
“I’m not looking to get sued,” I snap.
“Right.” He grins, and I already know he’s going to walk that line. “I should introduce myself.” Then he looks back and forth between us. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing,” Harbor and I say in unison.
Chuckling, he says, “That’s believable.” He hasn’t even taken a seat, and he’s already heading for the door again. “I think this room needs something stiffer. If you want bourbon, I’m happy to get it.”
“I want it,” I say, running my hand through my hair.
“On it.” He’s already out the door on a mission.
There’s an entire office of people celebrating my accomplishment, and I’m in my office, not able to think about anything else but Tuesday. “She’s only been gone a few hours, and I’m already a fucking mess.”
Harbor says, “You’re a mess, but you know what’s really happening?”
Looking for that one piece of advice to get me through, I ask, “What?”
“You’re in love.”
I sigh. “I know that already, and I’ve told her. Plenty.”
“Hear me out.” Sounding serious, which is rare for my brothers, he stands and plants his hands on the desk opposite of me. “This isn’t about saying the words, Loch. It’s deeper than that. I know the feeling. You’re lost without her.”
Lost.
That’s exactly what I am.
Lost. That’s heavy.
Fuck, I could really use that drink right about now.
Then he says, “I lost years I could have spent with Lark by making a decision for us on my own, instead of talking to her. It’s not the same situation, but since you don’t know when she’ll return, give her the time she needs, but remind her where her heart lives.”
Remind her of me.
Harbor almost lost his life once. He doesn’t treat things like love or family frivolously. He makes the most of life and gives trusted advice that’s not about him, but the wisdom of his experience, so I listen. When he walks to the window, he asks, “What are you going to do?”
Joining him, I let my gaze travel as far as my eyes can see. I refuse to lose her to her old life, not when we’re so good together in this one. Feeling a renewed determination, I cross my arms over my chest. “Make sure I get her back.”