31. AVERY
AVERY
The waiter walks past with another tray of smoked trout hors d’oeuvres.
Holding it out to me, he offers me a small navy napkin embossed with the Capitol dome and the club’s initials scrolled below it.
I don’t know how anyone eats something that smells so awful.
The strong smoked fish smell lingers as the waiter walks away.
“Drink?” Callie asks as we swerve a small crowd of DC’s finest people.
“We’re not doing this again,” Rowan groans, taking the flute she picks off a passing tray and putting it on another closer to him.
“Don’t be an asshole!” With annoyance painting her face, she grabs another. The waiter looks between her and Rowan, unsure of whether it’s safe to come closer when Callie crooks her finger at him with a stubborn glint in her eyes. “Keep ’em coming.”
Although I don’t typically drink, I take the flute she hands me with the soft pink bubbly, cradling it in my hand as I hold on tighter to Rhett’s arm.
People have been staring our way since we arrived.
Their judging glances and accusing smiles have me on edge, enough that just looking at the trays of food floating around and the floral scent from the hanging arrangements mixed with the expensive perfumes has my stomach gurgling.
The sip of the wine I had back at the house is still burning in my belly.
Its acidic taste and dryness linger on my tongue.
“Want some water?” Rhett asks, pressing his lips to my temple. “Fresh air?”
“Please,” I whisper in return, nuzzling closer to him just as Nora steps into our circle.
“Come on, kids, smile and mingle.”
Callie rolls her eyes, finishing off her glass of champagne before handing it to Rowan and making a point of plucking another from the passing waiter.
“Let’s go,” he sighs with exasperation as he spins her toward where Rafe is surrounded by another small group of people.
If Dad were still here, he would’ve been standing by, close enough to listen to the conversation and rescue him from the awkward, leading questions.
Instead, Mike is all the way across the room, talking to a man I’ve never seen in my life.
Their conversation is heated enough that when our stares meet, it takes him a while to shake the annoyance off his face and reciprocate my smile.
“Who’s that?” I ask Nora before she starts toward Rafe. “The man Uncle Mike is talking to.”
Searching them out, she pauses for no more than a few seconds before she turns back to me and says, “He’s some hotshot doctor.
Married to a senator’s daughter. I’m not quite sure why Michael invited him—he won’t talk to anyone.
Clearly his ego is as big as his reputation as the go-to nephrologist in the country.
Apparently, he works miracles, so much so he’s been nominated for a Nobel Prize in Physiology. ”
Rhett tenses, and when I look up at him, he’s got his narrowed stare on the man across the room. Something in his eyes is completely off, and the ticking of his jaw makes it all the more obvious.
“Stop staring!” Nora hooks her arm through Rhett’s other and spins so that we’re now facing the open room.
“It would be great if we got his support, especially with all his political ties. I have to say, I didn’t expect Michael to pull that one out of the bag.
But then he was always the bull while your father was all about whispers and gentle coaxing. ”
The wall of french doors on the other side of the room is like a light at the end of the tunnel as I tug lightly at Rhett’s arm.
When he doesn’t respond, I try to catch his gaze, but he’s looking over his shoulder back at Mike and the kidney doctor.
I’m not entirely sure what’s gotten into him, but he’s never this distracted.
It’s certainly never his style to gawk at anyone, except me.
“Air, Doc?” I ask, hoping that it’s enough to bring his attention back to me. It doesn’t, and from the look Uncle Mike is giving him, he’s annoyed at his open curiosity, and when he gets pissed…God, even Dad struggled with that.
I’m not one for open displays of affection, especially in these surroundings, but I would rather be the center of gossip than have to deal with Mike’s wrath tonight.
Resting my hand on Rhett’s chest, I slide up to cup his jaw. “Honey?”
“Mmm.” He smiles tentatively when he turns to me again.
“Water and air?”
“Good idea.” Nora pats his shoulder while nodding at a passerby that greets her. “It’s so stuffy in here. Fresh air would do you good.”
Starting for the door directly ahead of us, I guide us through the room.
Nora swans off toward Rafe as we push through the crowded space, navigating the pockets of guests.
I nod and try to smile when they greet me.
Not many have mentioned my father even though the pity in their eyes is obvious.
And most of the women are too enthralled by Rhett to say much.
I imagine they’re probably wondering how I could bring a date when my divorce isn’t finalized yet.
Of course, they all know about it; their glances and whispers tell me as much.
The “have you heard” and “did you hear” with the “how could they” and “can you believe it” that are abruptly stunted when we’re within earshot.
That’s the thing about high society—although it’s not okay to talk about your problems to others, it’s all too normal to gossip about others. They would rather spread lies than be told the cold, hard truth.
Still, Dad was right in his letter. People that are quick to judge are often the ones that are too scared to act for themselves. They would rather justify their regrets by picking apart the lives of others.
The minute we make it outside, I gulp down the cool fall air, hoping that it will clear the mustiness of the place. The smell of expensive booze, fancy food, and opulent fragrances all contained in history-lavished walls that threaten to smother you the longer you remain within them.
“I know you don’t like Mike, but—” I start, but Rhett is quick to tell me, “I’m sorry. I just…” He shakes his head as though he’s trying to get his thoughts together. “I guess there’s something familiar about the guy he was talking to.”
“Maybe you’ve seen a photo of him in one of those medical journals you read?”
“Probably.” He shrugs, and before I can say anything else, he takes the champagne I’m still holding on to and puts the flute down on the wall overlooking the vast lawn. “Walk and then water?”
“Sounds good. Nora’s right, it’s so damn stifling in there. I’d forgotten how stale these places are and how…how priggish the people can be.”
“You can call them for what they are. Assholes.” He grins, but there’s still something not quite right in his eyes. Something that tells me his mind is in overdrive.
Hand in hand, we take the terrace concrete stairs down to the grassy area.
Small globe lights dot down the stone slab path that leads into the tree line bordering the golf course.
The light from the room behind us diffuses with every step we take, and when we reach the last one, Rhett steps down, turning into me so that we’re face-to-face.
“Have I told you how pretty you look?” he breathes over my lips, hands molding to my neck as he thumbs up and down the column of my throat.
The tightness in my chest loosens at our closeness, his warmth permeating through me while he lightly nudges the tip of my nose with his.
He has. He’s told me every chance he gets, and every time, the butterflies in my stomach go berserk at his words and the awe and need in his burning stare.
When I nod in reply, he adds, “Not just tonight, sweetheart. Every damn day.”
A giggle erupts from me as his hands rove down my sides, clutching my waist while my arms round his shoulders. Without warning, he hitches me up his body and spins away from the steps, peppering my lips with kisses.
The sound of the music from inside picks up for a second before it mutes again.
And although we’re both aware that there are other people out here, we hold on tighter to each other.
Our innocent kisses become one long, languid kiss as my feet touch the ground, and we sway along to the sound of the autumnal breeze around us.
It’s mild, not much cooler than the weather we left behind yesterday.
“I miss home already,” I tell him when we come up for air.
Rhett chuckles lightly, arms circling my waist. “Me too.”
For a short while, he continues swaying me to that same tune he hummed when we danced on the boat. The anxiety that’s been building since we arrived at the party slowly ebbs away until I’m the most relaxed I’ve been all of today.
“I know you’re happy at the ranch,” he murmurs, still holding me close, moving us around in circles.
“I am, and Iris loves it too.”
His hold tightens around me, and as though it can sense what’s coming, my heart begins to beat faster and faster as we spin again, and his lips find my ear. “Do you think she’d love my place? As a home.”
The question comes as a surprise. The most we’ve spoken about my housing plan was that once my contract with the Silverlark Harbor aquarium was signed, I’d look at the options available.
Of course, when I spoke to Jo about it, she was adamant that the ranch was our home now and that I shouldn’t waste my time looking for another.
Slowly we come to a stop, and when I find his gaze, he smiles. I expected to find some kind of demand for an answer, and a part of me was starting to panic about what to say.
“You can tell me if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, least of all you, Doc.” I take a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts of what everyone else would like or think before I answer, “Yes, she would. I think she’d love any place if you were there. Home isn’t really a physical place, is it?”
“Not entirely, no.”
“She loves you, Rhett.”
“Enough to live with me?”