4. The Wire #3
Without missing a beat, she launches into the latest details of a merger and acquisition she’s spearheading, her voice animated, hands moving as she explains complex financial moves like it’s light dinner conversation.
Riley chimes in next, sharing the latest exhibits coming through the gallery, her eyes lighting up as she describes a new installation she’s obsessed with.
Andrew rounds it out with talk of quarterly profits and losses, his tone casual but clipped, like his mind still lives in a spreadsheet.
The table gradually fills with colorful plates—delicate sashimi, perfectly rolled hand rolls, steaming bowls of miso.
The air is warm with the scent of soy and citrus.
Chopsticks click against ceramic, sake glasses clink softly, and the conversation flows as easily as the wine.
As the night winds on, we’re already halfway through another bottle of sake, laughter curling easily between us.
“Oh! Before I forget—” I sit up straighter, reaching eagerly into my bag. “I come bearing gifts.”
I pull out four glossy VIP tickets attached to hot-pink lanyards for my opening night on Ava Edwards’ New York stop, fanning them out with a flourish like a winning poker hand. “I hope you guys can make it.”
“Are you kidding?” Riley gasps, snatching it like it’s her personal golden ticket into Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “You’d have to get security to tie me up and drag me out.”
“That could be arranged—but I think you’d enjoy that a bit too much,” I quip at her.
She laughs. “You know me too well.”
Philippa takes both her and Andrew’s tickets gracefully, a warm, proud smile curving her lips. “Of course we’ll be there. We wouldn’t miss it.”
Andrew tilts his chin toward the last remaining pass dangling in my grasp. “Who’s that one for?”
My fingers linger on the smooth laminate, my heart giving a gentle flutter of hesitation. “Um…Broderick. I thought he’d be here tonight.”
“It’s too bad he got caught up with work,” Philippa sighs softly, shaking her head. “Knowing him, he’ll probably just crash at his office tonight.”
A pang of discomfort tightens in my chest. The image of Broderick alone, skipping dinner, spending another night beneath the harsh glow of office lights stirs an unexpected ache.
Does he ever let himself rest? Eat a home-cooked meal?
Since knowing him, he always seems to be either buried in paperwork or boarding another red-eye flight.
Andrew chuckles dryly, arching an eyebrow. “That guy needs a vacation—or at least a hobby that isn’t lifting weights.” His gaze sharpens with curiosity as he adds, “Didn’t realize you two had gotten so close.”
“Scared I’m going to steal your one and only friend?” I shrug nonchalantly, even as a flush threatens to bloom along my neck.
That earns me a laugh from the table. Though Andrew’s seems a little forced.
“Plus we bonded over our joint servitude organizing your bachelor and bachelorette weekend.”
But beneath my casual tone, memories flutter to life—stolen glances that lingered a heartbeat too long, the almost-kisses that left a warm imprint in their absence; the accidental birthday kiss still imprinted vividly in my mind; his soft confession by the beach; and the steady, comforting way he’d rescued me at Pacific.
Private, shimmering moments that feel both tender and electric.
Riley coughs into her sleeve, the muffled sound suspiciously resembling the word “bullshit.” It takes everything I have not to kick her under the table.
Philippa’s eyes dart sharply from Riley back to me, her lips thinning into a tight line. After a beat, she nudges Andrew lightly, her voice deliberately bright. “I think it’s great. Besides, if you ever need fitness tips, Broderick’s your man.”
Andrew holds my gaze a fraction longer, like he’s deciphering truths hidden behind words I’m not yet ready to voice. In truth, I’m not ready to decipher them myself.
We exit the restaurant into the brisk night, our laughter tinged with the lingering warmth of sake and cocktails. Philippa and Andrew say their goodbyes quickly, slipping gracefully into their waiting town car.
“Hey, I’m meeting a few mates at Bungalow,” Riley chirps, looping her arm through mine. “Wanna join?”
The mere thought of dancing anymore tonight sends a wave of exhaustion washing through me. “You go ahead, babe. I’m completely wiped from rehearsals.”
“You sure?” Riley peers at me closely, genuine concern softening her playful expression.
I nod, hugging her tightly. “Dance your ass off for both of us.”
“You know I will.” Her grin widens mischievously.
“I can have Tony drive you,” I say, gesturing toward the sleek black town car parked discreetly at the curb—my newly assigned security detail waiting patiently.
“All good, babe, I’ve got it.” She flashes a cheeky wink, swiftly hailing a passing cab.
Adjusting my purse, something slips from it, fluttering to the sidewalk. The remaining VIP pass catches the dim glow of streetlights. Broderick’s ticket.
Philippa’s words return, a gentle haunting reminder. Will he really spend the night alone at his office?
As I crouch to retrieve the ticket, my eyes drift toward a nearby burger joint, neon signs flickering. A surge of determination propels me upright, clutching the glossy laminate firmly.
I tuck the ticket decisively into my bag, and without another thought, my feet move toward the restaurant.
Has he eaten tonight?