Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Paige stood in the kitchen mixing up a vinaigrette for the salad.
She was nervous about what Graham and Randi were going to talk about at dinner this evening. Randi had very little filter, something that had come about from raising a boisterous young son, so it was a sure thing that she’d ask whatever questions popped into her head.
What those questions might be was what worried Paige. Randi would want to know everything she could about Graham.
Paige dipped a finger in to taste the dressing. Needed more lemon. She squeezed some in and went back to whisking.
That’s how Randi had been with the first man Paige had dated after making herself over and moving to the Colony. Sylvester Russo been a lovely man, who had sadly died of a stroke three months after she’d been out with him.
But as soon as Randi had watched the TikTok post Paige had put up, the questions had begun.
Was it serious? Did he have his own money?
What was his family like? What had happened to his wife?
Did he have a temper? Had he paid for dinner or tried to split the check?
How many kids did he have? What kind of car did he drive?
The questions had been exhausting, but as soon as Paige had explained to Randi that she was never going to date anyone with the intention of remarrying, that she was only doing it for content and to show Randi’s father that she was moving on, Randi had calmed down.
But Randi knew Graham was different. There was nothing Paige could do to change her daughter’s mind about that, nor would she want to.
That would be a disservice to Graham. He was different.
He was special. He had so many wonderful qualities it was hard to believe they were all contained in one man.
He scared the daylights out of Paige, or rather, her feelings for him did. Because she already liked him more than she’d ever liked any man.
And that included her ex-husband, Peter.
She set the dressing aside and started washing salad greens.
She’d loved Peter, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever been in love with him. Sometimes, she wondered if he hadn’t deliberately convinced her to marry him with the money and jewelry and travel. If he hadn’t, in a sense, bought himself a wife.
Those kinds of thoughts didn’t leave her feeling great about herself. But she’d been young and naive in a lot of ways. And he had given her all of those material things. Then Randi had come along, and Paige had been able to focus on the one person she knew loved her.
Looking back, it was probably right around then that Peter had begun cheating on her. Taking long trips without her, ostensibly for business, but now she wondered. Was he seeing men back then?
She could probably find out if she did some digging, but she no longer cared. Peter was out of her life for the most part. Because of Liam, he would never be out of Randi’s. For that, Paige felt bad.
Bad that Randi had to deal with her father on a regular basis, and also bad for Peter that he was never going to be included the way he wanted to be. But also, she really felt bad for Liam. He was never going to have the kind of grandfather in Peter that he deserved.
Randi padded down the steps from the loft. Her hair was a little damp from the shower she’d taken. “Need help?”
“No, but I think Barkley wants to go out.”
At the sound of his name, he started wagging his tail and whining.
“Come on, Barkley boy.” Randi grabbed his leash and took him out.
Paige had the steaks on a platter and had seasoned them with salt. Thank goodness she’d bought four. She had the asparagus ready to roast on a baking sheet with olive oil, salt, garlic, and lemon. When it was done, she’d sprinkle freshly grated parmesan over the stalks.
Really, all she had to do was finish the salad. When Graham arrived, she’d put the asparagus in the oven and pan-sear the steaks. Wouldn’t take long at all.
He’d texted shortly after they’d gotten home from the beach to say he’d be bringing dessert, if that was all right. She’d said it was, but he hadn’t shared what the dessert was. Knowing Graham even a little bit, she was sure it would be something good.
Paige sprinkled halved cherry tomatoes over the salad greens, then sliced up an English cucumber (which felt appropriate) and tossed that in.
She added some shredded carrots for sweetness and some toasted pine nuts for crunch.
She drizzled the dressing on, tossed it all together, and took the bowl to the table.
Randi came back in with Barkley. “Okay, what can I do to help?”
Paige looked around. “You could fill the water glasses. Ice and water from the fridge. In fact, maybe fill a pitcher so we don’t have to get up for more.”
“You got it.” Randi went to the table to get the glasses and took them into the kitchen.
Paige looked over her table setting.
The doorbell rang just as she was smoothing the napkin at Randi’s place setting—an unnecessary gesture, since everything was already picture-perfect. She wasn’t recording any content, but the habit of making everything just right was a hard one to quit.
“Mom,” Randi called from the kitchen. “The table is perfect just the way it is. There’s nothing to do but answer the door. Unless you want me to do it.” She grinned mischievously.
“No, I’ll get it.” Paige rolled her eyes, half smiling, and went to let their guest in. Graham stood there in a short-sleeved silk shirt the color of weathered sea glass, holding a white bakery box with a green ribbon.
“I come bearing tribute,” he said, that wry British cadence wrapping around the words. “Key lime pie — apparently, one can’t dine in Florida without it.”
Paige laughed. “You’re not wrong. Come in before it melts.” It was a good choice, and Randi’s favorite, so he’d get some points for that.
She lowered her voice as he passed by. “Randi will undoubtedly pepper you with questions. I just want you to be prepared.”
He stepped inside, the faint scent of sea and citrus following him. “I shall do my best to persevere,” he whispered back.
Randi was bringing the water pitcher from the kitchen. She assessed him with the same cool curiosity as she had on the beach. She set the water pitcher on the table and turned toward him.
Her eyes were on the bakery box. “Did I hear you say that was key lime pie?”
He smiled easily. “I did, indeed. Does that meet your approval?”
“Very much. It’s my favorite.” She glanced at Paige. “Did you tell him that?”
Paige shook her head. “I promise I didn’t.” She took the box into the kitchen, set it on the counter, then checked the oven temperature.
“Interesting” Randi said, arms folded. “Did you use your special skills to figure that out?”
“My special skills?” Graham asked.
“You know, because you’re a former spy.”
Paige nearly choked on air. “Randi—”
Graham’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Former intelligence officer,” he corrected mildly. “MI6 sounds far more dramatic than it ever was.”
Randi tilted her head. “Right. Because working for British intelligence out of the embassy in Washington is completely ordinary.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Point taken. But mostly it involved reports, diplomacy, and ensuring certain important visitors didn’t accidentally start international incidents after too many Mai Tais.”
Paige pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “That sounds like South Florida in a nutshell.”
Graham nodded. “Precisely. I traded classified briefings for the far more perilous business of Florida drivers.”
The oven dinged that it was at temperature. Paige put the asparagus in and got started on the steaks. She’d need a screaming hot pan to sear them properly. She cranked on the induction stove and put the pan on the burner.
Of course, Randi wasn’t done asking questions. That probably wouldn’t stop until Graham left. “What made you retire? Did you get bored saving the world?”
He slid her a look that managed to be both serious and amused.
“A little of that, I suppose. I realized I’d spent years collecting secrets but very little peace.
After my wife passed, I decided I preferred the latter.
So here I am, unwilling to face the gray drizzle of London any longer. Besides that, my son is in Manhattan.”
“Makes sense then. But I’m sorry about your wife,” Randi said.
“Your condolences are appreciated,” Graham replied.
Randi lifted her glass. “And I like that you upgraded from espionage to dessert duty.”
Graham did a little bow. “It is far less dangerous, unless you think carbs are the enemy.”
Randi laughed. “You’re funny.” She leaned forward. “Do you still have contacts in, like, London or MI-whatever?”
“Only the kind that send Christmas cards,” Graham said dryly. “These days I answer to no one except my doctor and your mother’s dinner schedule.”
That earned another laugh from Randi and a glance from Paige. Randi wasn’t being nearly as nosy as Paige had imagined she’d be. In fact, Randi seemed to really like Graham. That was good.
When the food was ready and they were all at the table, Graham raised his glass. “A toast to your hospitality. Thank you both for including me in your evening.”
“You’re welcome,” Paige said.
They all tucked in. Dinner was going well—better than Paige had hoped. The steaks were perfect, the conversation easy, and Randi hadn’t once rolled her eyes in a bad way.
Paige topped off Graham’s water and he thanked her with that unhurried British courtesy that somehow made every syllable sound sincere.
Randi speared a cherry tomato out of her salad. “What was your favorite memory from working at the embassy?”
Graham set down his fork and considered that for a moment, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Favorite,” he repeated. “That’s a dangerous word. It implies enjoyment. And I assure you, most of my time there was paperwork, politics, and pretending not to sweat in a wool suit.”
“Come on,” Randi pressed. “You must have one good story.”
He smiled faintly. “All right, then. There was an incident involving a very determined parrot.”
Paige blinked. “A parrot?”
Graham nodded. “Yes. A scarlet macaw, to be precise. Belonged to a visiting diplomat’s wife. Beautiful bird, terrible manners. The woman insisted on bringing it everywhere: receptions, luncheons, the consulate. One afternoon, it escaped during a reception for some trade delegates.”
Randi leaned in. “And?”
“It flew straight into the main conference room,” he said. “Where it perched on the chandelier above a table of very serious people discussing import tariffs. Then, right as the ambassador from Honduras was making some grand point, the parrot began shouting, ‘Liar! Liar!’ in perfect English.”
Randi burst out laughing. “No!”
Paige snickered, shaking her head. “That can’t be true.”
“I assure you, it happened,” Graham said, deadpan. “Three countries nearly withdrew their delegations before we caught the poor thing with a cardboard box and a towel. I spent the next week filing reports on ‘avian disruptions to diplomatic decorum.’”
Paige, still smiling, returned to her steak. “I can’t decide if that’s ridiculous or tragic.”
“Both,” he said, winking at her. “But it made me a firm believer in never underestimating the power of a well-timed insult.”
Randi wiped her eyes, clearly amused. “You’re officially the most interesting man my mother’s ever dated.”
Paige felt her pulse jump at the word dated. She opened her mouth, thinking she should say something, but Graham beat her to it, raising his glass slightly.
“To the parrot,” he said. “Proof that diplomacy occasionally ruffles feathers.”