I’ve seen marital bliss happen to friends, sure, but I’ve never been as up close and personal with it as in the last couple of years. It’s cloying to anyone not involved in the happy twosome.
My sister-in-law is resting her hand in my brother’s hair, right at the nape of his neck. It’s a casual gesture.
Like we’re not in the middle of a conversation about the holidays.
“We could do it in Montauk,” Anthony says. Little Theo is asleep in his arms, a bundle of gray fabric and a tightly screwed-up face like he’s concentrating very hard on sleeping. “The house is big enough for Mom and Dad, not to mention your family, Summer. All the dogs would fit, too.”
Christmas is four months away, and the August air is still sweltering in New York City.
Welcome to my family, I think. My mother has been harassing everyone in the family text thread about our plans. Despite her having caterers on retainer and several houses to choose from, it’s apparently, of the utmost importance that planning starts now.
“Oh, imagine the ocean at that time of year…” Summer says, her voice dreamy. “It could be lovely. We could heat the pool, couldn’t we, honey?”
Anthony nods. “Sure.”
“We could use it like a jacuzzi on Christmas Eve. I could go out the week prior to set up decorations. I like this idea.”
I run a hand along my jaw. “Sounds good. I’m flexible with whatever you guys want. I just can’t be away from the city for too long.”
Summer’s eyes turn disapproving. “Isaac, you need to take more breaks. You haven’t been out to Montauk more than a few weekends this summer.”
“The company needs me,” I say. “But I’d love to come out more often if I could.”
My sister-in-law isn’t satisfied. She sits down next to Anthony and places a tiny kiss on her son’s forehead. “Isaac,” she says, “please, please, just consider letting me give it a try. Just once. If you don’t like it, I promise I’ll never mention it again.”
I groan. “That’s what this is? An ambush? You feed me delicious food and wine, and then you attack.”
“Consider it an intervention,” she says.
I look at my brother. “Help.”
Anthony laughs darkly. For all my occasional annoyance with my bubbly sister-in-law, that laugh, right there, is worth every pestering question she asks about my love life.
Anthony had been in a dark place after his diagnosis. His gradually deteriorating eyesight robbed him of joy long before it started robbing him of sight.
But Summer had restored that. She’s helped him work through his hurt and fears until the future, while still painful, is once again something to look forward to. And the small son in his arms, the first baby in the family, has shown me a new side to my brother I never thought I’d see.
He’s happy.
And I’ll never stop being in Summer’s debt for that.
“I’m sorry,” Anthony says. “But I think I’m on my wife’s side on this one.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You would never have accepted this yourself, you traitor.”
“I did,” he says. “Didn’t exactly work out the way she predicted, but it gave results. Just unexpected ones.”
Summer nods. “That’s right. Isaac, there are a ton of women I think you’d match really well with. I have a shortlist prepared.”
This again.
She’d tried twice before, and each time was more insistent than the last. Together with her aunt, she runs an elite matchmaking company for New York’s high society.
That’s their tagline and not my words.
Their hands-on approach and careful curation of partners leads to a very high percentage of successful matches. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve been told several times by Summer herself.
I look at my sleeping nephew. He’s clearly not being fussy enough of a baby if Summer still has the energy to think about my love life.
“Isaac?” she says. “There’s a beautiful, newly divorced woman who just signed up for the service. She has a good job, a stellar social life, and I think you two would really hit it off.”
My eyebrows rise. “Really? What’s her name?”
“Valerie Simmons. Do you want to know more? I could pull up her profile.”
I feel myself deflate at the unfamiliar name. “No.”
“Oh.” Summer sighs and then shakes her head. “It can be something super casual. Dinner here at our house, just the four of us.”
Anthony snorts. “Well, that’s not casual at all.”
I look at him with gratitude. “Exactly,” I say. “Look, I appreciate it, but I can handle my own love life. Thank you, but no thanks.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And are you? Handling your own love life?”
“Anthony,” I say.
But my brother doesn’t come to my defence again. He looks at me with the same dark eyes I see in a mirror. “Isaac,” he says. “Honestly, man. You gotta get out there. You’re living the life of a workaholic monk or a princess locked into a tower.”
“A princess,” I repeat slowly, “locked in a tower?”
He reaches for his glass of brandy. “Yeah, that was a metaphor. The point is, you’re living half of a life.”
“Half of a life,” I murmur. The words feel like a slap. The life I live is one dedicated to them. To the company. To the family.
To the little son he’s holding in his lap right now. If he wants to have a piece of his heritage, one of us needs to ensure there’s a heritage left, and Anthony made it clear he doesn’t want to be a part of the day-to-day.
Doesn’t stop any of them from benefiting, though. It doesn’t stop my parents from booking out The Ivy free of charge for events, or my brother from drawing a monthly salary from a nominal position on the board.
But God forbid I spend my life ensuring any of that’s even possible.
“Yes,” Anthony says. I doubt he notices my sharp silence. I’ve become good at keeping my occasional resentments hidden. “The hotel is doing great. The business can take care of itself far more than you’d let it. It’s time you took care of you, too.”
“Right,” I say, my hand curving over the armrest of my chair. “And both of you are convinced that means finding a life partner?”
“Yes,” my brother says, “because you just said the words finding a life partner. I just want you to get laid consistently, man, and have fun doing things that aren’t spreadsheets.”
I chuckle. “The offer is appreciated, Summer. But I don’t need any help.”
She gives me a wide, serviceable smile. I’ve seen it work well for her before. “When was the last time you went on a date?” she asks like she’s already interviewing me for her matchmaking service.
“I’m actually seeing someone right now,” I say.
“You are?” Anthony asks. “Define seeing someone. Because if it’s just—”
“Anthony,” Summer murmurs.
He gives us both a half grin. “You know I’m right. Both of you. Because there’s a difference.”
As if I didn’t know. As if the woman I used to see briefly, casually, wasn’t different than actually dating someone. Beverly and I had a very clear understanding. Always cordial, never dramatic, and never any expectations.
“I know there is,” I say. “But this is more than that, even if it’s early.”
Summer’s blue eyes are narrowed on mine like she’s a detective interrogating a suspect. “What’s her name?”
“Sophia,” I say.
“What’s her hair color?”
“Brown.”
“How long has it been going on?”
“Just a few weeks.” I reach for my brandy. It burns going down my throat, along with the last of my good sense. Fuck. I shouldn’t have said her name. There was no reason to, and it isn’t right to her.
My brother looks from my grim expression to my newly drained glass. “And it’s not going well,” he says. “Is it?”
“It’s complicated.”
“But you like her,” he says and leans back on the couch like he’s cracked the case.
“Yes,” I say and wonder how the hell I ended up in this situation. The indignity. Not that I wouldn’t…
Jesus. This is why it’s become hard to spend time around my family lately. I’m aware they have these conversations behind my back, and the knowledge grates like a thorn beneath my skin.
Summer doesn’t look convinced. “All right. If you think this could be serious, I’ll lay off. But my offer stands. One of these days, I’m going to organize a date and just text you the time and place.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say.
“I would,” she says, and I know she means it. My sister-in-law is many things, but timid is usually not one of them. “I can even set the date at The Ivy so you don’t have to go anywhere, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t run longer than half an hour.”
I rise from my armchair. “This has been a lovely evening. Thank you both.”
Anthony grins. “Yeah, I’d leave now, too, if I was you.”
“You would have left an hour ago,” I say.
He chuckles. “Yeah, and I wouldn’t have been as nice about it as you are.”
“Mhm.”
He stands, shifting the sleeping baby to his other arm. “The women she set me up with weren’t for me,” he says, nodding toward Summer. “I had my sights set elsewhere. But they might be for you.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and give him the most aggressively polite of smiles. “You’re so lucky you’re holding my nephew right now.”
He smiles crookedly. “You haven’t punched me since we were kids.”
“Clearly an oversight on my end.”
I leave their townhouse, the heavy door falling shut behind me. Summer and Anthony are living in one of the family’s houses. It had been our grandparents’ once, and under Anthony and Summer’s stewardship it’s been lovingly restored.
Not that they spend a lot of time there during the warmer months, anyway. My brother had bought a Montauk house a few years back, not far from our parents’ summer house, in an area where we’d spent most of our holidays as kids.
I roll my head and start walking back to the hotel.
Seeing my brother happy has lifted a burden off my shoulders I didn’t know I’d been carrying. He’s now once again the person I remember from my childhood.
I rub a hand over my chest. His damn eyesight, though. It’s a problem without a solution, an issue I can’t fix, and not a day goes by when it doesn’t bother me, even if he has come to terms with it.
My mind lingers on Summer’s hand on my brother’s neck, casually possessive. And then I see Sophia’s eyes, bright and teasing, as she says something she suspects I’ll disagree with.
I shouldn’t have said her name. Shouldn’t have implicated her in my white lie.
Shouldn’t have lied at all.
I pull up my phone and scroll through my emails as I walk. None from her or her team.
It’s been a week since DC, and the Exciteur team hasn’t been back at the hotel. Why would they? They’ve gotten the full tour. They’ve spoken to all my employees. They’re working on the pitch now, just as instructed. I have no reason to talk to her or contact her.
Around me, New York is abuzz.
It’s early in the evening still, the weather oppressively hot, and the city’s inhabitants who haven’t left it for greener pastures are all outside. Sitting on stoops and drinking in the park. A teenage boy skates past me, upbeat pop music pounding from a speaker in his backpack.
I shove my hands in my pockets. Walking had been the right choice. Sophia, I think. Sorry, but you saved me tonight.
When I finally make it to the hotel, I find it every bit as busy as the city streets I’ve just left behind. I walk through a group of newly arrived tourists in the lobby. I listen to them talk to one another in a language I don’t understand. One of the youngsters lies in one of our chaise lounges, half-asleep, a teddy bear tucked beneath her. Must have been a long international flight.
I stop by the offices. Andrej is there, looking through the systems.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes, sir. We’re almost at capacity.”
“Things running smoothly?”
“Yes,” he says. “For the restaurants, too. They’re all fully booked.”
I nod. There are few day-to-day issues that require my oversight. The machine has always been designed to run that way. “Good. Make sure you get something to eat if you’re working the late shift,” I say. “Get Flake’s and put it on the company.”
“Thank you, sir,” he says. “There is one other thing…”
“Yes?”
Andrej frowns like he’s not sure about his next words. “A woman checked in earlier today.”
“Oh?”
“She’s from the Exciteur team, sir. The ones you’re working with for the potential expansion.” He shrugs. “Sorry, I heard Andrew talk about it.”
“That’s okay. What’s her name?”
“Sophia, sir. Sophia Bishop.”
My hand tightens around the doorframe. “Miss Bishop checked into the Winter Hotel?”
“Yes.”
“What room?”
Andrej doesn’t look fazed by my question. It’s one of the many things he’s great at. He juggles the curveballs of hospitality like he was born to it. The hotel could be on fire, and I know he would call the fire department in a calm, orderly fashion before beginning the evacuation protocols.
“1402,” he says. “Standard double, ensuite, courtyard view.”
She’s in one of our cheapest rooms. It’s still good. Solid standard. But…
“Is the penthouse suite booked tonight?”
Andrej doesn’t need to check his systems for that. The entire hotel staff knows whether or not the penthouse suite is occupied because if it is, it’s usually a guest of worldwide renown.
“No,” he says, “and not tomorrow night, either.”
“Upgrade her to the penthouse.”
His eyes widen. There’s a pause before he answers. “Yes, sir. Right away. I’ll send someone to her room to—”
“I’m on it.” I reach for a key card and code it to the penthouse suite. “It’s cleaned?”
“Of course, sir.”
I take the elevator to the fourteenth floor. It’s intrusive, what I’m doing. I know that. And yet, the idea has taken too firm of a hold in my mind to be shaken off.
I’ll atone for it in the morning. I walk down the corridor in search of 1402. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this corridor; since I’ve been in any corridor apart from my own and the admin floor.
I give the door two sharp knocks. “Miss Bishop?”
There’s a shuffle inside, silence, and then her voice. “Yes? Is everything all right?”
“It’s Isaac Winter,” I say.
There’s absolute silence on the other side.
Then her voice comes, just a tad frantic. “Just one minute!”
“There’s no rush,” I add. “I know I’m bothering you. Just wanted to offer a complimentary—”
The door opens and there she is, standing in the hotel’s fluffy robe. Her hair is damp around her shoulders, and she’s wearing those glasses again.
Her skin looks clean and soft. “Hello,” she says.
“Hi.”
“I’m sorry about this.”
I frown. “About what?”
“Staying here without letting you or your team know.” She shrugs, an elegant motion. “I feel like I just invited myself.”
“It’s a hotel, not my apartment.”
Her lips curve into a half smile. “Yes, I suppose. But it’s hard not to think of it like that. Your name is on the building, after all.”
A part of my brain is occupied with very unhelpful thoughts. The awareness of her robe and what might be beneath it is like a hammer beating against my skull.
“An upgrade,” I say. “We’d like to offer you a complimentary upgrade.”
“Oh.” She looks back into her room. I glimpse the corner of a queen-size bed. “This room is plenty good for me.”
“To the penthouse suite.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Consider it research, Miss Bishop. That suite has a lot of history, you know. And you could take pictures for your team.”
She looks from her bag on the floor to me, and then the decision is made, her face settling into professionalism. “You’re right, I’d love that. Let me pack?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” I say and pull the door closed to give her privacy.
The business excuse was a good one. It’s not untrue, either. The penthouse suite is one of the things we’re most famous for, at least within a certain circle. Seeing it would be helpful. I just hadn’t thought of it until I stood here.
Five minutes later, the door opens again. She’s in a pair of black pants and a tank top, leaving her tanned arms bare.
“All right, lead the way,” she says brightly. She motions to her wet hair, braided down her back. “Sorry for this, by the way. I enjoyed the spa area earlier.”
“You used the pool?”
“Yes.”
I reach for her weekend bag, and she lets me take it. “Thanks,” she says.
It’s a gesture I’ve done a thousand times. But tonight, it’s hers, and not Summer’s or my mother’s or a date’s.
We walk toward the elevators. “Did you choose to stay here for research?” I ask. “If so, I wish you would have spoken to the team. We would never have charged you for the night.”
She shakes her head. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Of course, you could.”
“I already enjoyed your hospitality in DC.”
I call for the elevator. The penthouse suite has its own, but it’s located half a building away. “So, you didn’t check in for research, then?”
“Partly,” she says. “I’ve wanted to swim in the art deco pool since you showed it to me. The vaulted ceiling is even more stunning when you’re floating on your back.”
“I can imagine,” I say, my hand tightening around the handle of her bag.
“I just want to make sure we get this right,” she says. “This pitch.”
“Your dedication is admirable.” I hit the code in the elevator. It overrides the standard operations and will take us up to the top floor without interruption. Not directly into the suite, though. That exclusive elevator is only available behind the desk in the lobby.
“Thank you for the upgrade,” she says beside me.
“You haven’t seen the room yet.”
“Oh, I don’t have to,” she says. “I already know it’s going to be incredible.”
“It sure is something,” I say.
The elevator falls silent, and in the quiet, I can hear her soft breathing. She smells like clean shampoo and jasmine.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“For what?”
“The drinks, down in DC. I had a nice time.”
“Thanks for the company,” I say. And I mean it.
“Did you just get back from work?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, but part of it sure felt like work.”
She chuckles. “A family thing?”
“Yes.” The elevator stops, and I press the button to keep the doors open, gesturing for her to get out first. “I meant what I said. My family can be… very persistent.”
“Somehow,” she says, “I don’t think you have any problem fending them off.”
That makes me smile. “It’s harder when I know they mean well.”
“Oh, yes. Makes you feel terrible when you have to say no. That’s how my sister guilted me into taking care of one of her kittens.”
“A kitten?”
“Yes.” She smiles over her shoulder. “I’m still trying to figure out how I ended up saying yes.”
“So you have a roommate?”
She chuckles. “Yes. I upgraded from Percy.”
I bite my tongue to keep from smiling. If there’s one thing I’m always willing to listen to, it’s her putting down her asshole ex.
I hadn’t been there when he checked out after the first time I met Sophia. But I had watched a recording of him cursing out my staff—very thoroughly—as they threatened to press charges for public indecency.
I stop outside the door to the suite. There’s only one on this floor, and it doesn’t have a number on it. “It’s a bit big for one person,” I warn her. “If you decide you want to switch to a smaller suite, you tell me. Any free suite is yours tonight.”
“Oh, I’m sure this will be fine.”
I push the door open for her. “Take a look and see.”
