Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,51
a little hasty, don’t you?”
“I absolutely do not. When there’s a rat in your pantry, you don’t ignore it in the hopes it will go away. You exterminate it.”
“With all due respect,” I began, “we’ve discussed this. We cannot risk the account or our reputation by disobeying their requests. Laney is a part of the team and she will be for the duration of the project, so tell me what else I can do to ease your mind.”
Catherine was flushed, and through a thinking moment, she took a drink of her scotch. “Here is my request,” she said, setting the crystal glass on the end table. “I will concede to her presence if the two of you will make me a promise.” She pinned me, then Georgie, with a pointed look. “Stay away from the Bennets outside of work. No more of these little parties you go to, no more fraternization.”
“I’m afraid I have a cocktail party planned for the firm and the employees of the bookstore tomorrow night,” Georgie said.
Catherine darkened. “Then do what you must. But from here out, contain your meetings with the owners, not the rest of them. And that directive comes from both your aunt and the owner of the company.”
I met Georgie’s eyes. We had a silent conversation.
“We’ll do our best,” I said.
The tension in Georgie eased at my evasion of a promise.
“You must understand that I only want to protect you,” Catherine said gently. “I want your happiness and safety.”
Just not in that order. “We know.”
She reached for my hand with pleading eyes. “Do you? I’m no stranger to the facts. I am not a maternal woman—the reason the universe denied me children of my own, no doubt—and I am not one for empty gestures or overt displays of affection. But I do love the two of you with savage devotion, even when I fail to show you.”
Georgie’s face went soft, and she moved to the floor at Catherine’s feet, laying her hand on ours. “We know. You’ve shown us more than you may realize over the years. However could we have survived without you?”
She laughed, though her eyes sparkled and the tip of her nose was red. “Your brother and I are cut from the same cloth. We do not fail. He would have sorted it out on his own—of that I’m certain.”
I shifted closer, wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulled her into my side.
We are cut from the same cloth, I said to myself. Was I so much like her? The cool exterior guarding the well of feelings beneath. The absolute conviction with which she believed herself to be right. Ruling by fear like Laney had said.
Yes, Catherine and I were much alike, and there were many merits in that sameness.
But for the first time, I noted the many ways I wish I wasn’t.
16
Wait For It
LANEY
The second Jett and I walked into the cocktail party the next night, his eyes found Georgie, and that was that.
Neither of us had come with plus-ones. Jett was alone because of Georgie, even though he was convinced he couldn’t have her, and predictably, she’d come alone too. And I'd come alone because the only prospect of a date that I had was Wyatt, and I didn’t think any of us would have enjoyed that, least of all Georgie.
The venue was intimate—a bar on an upper floor of a building in Chelsea with a panoramic view of the night city. Squares of light cutting through the dark. The glow from the streets illuminating the buildings from below. It was a reminder of what I’d missed when I moved away, a sight I wouldn’t abandon again.
Cobalt velvet couches sat against the windows overlooking the city, arranged in little nooks already housing groups of people not only from Wasted Words, but the firm too. A small dance floor stood at the end of the rectangular room, ringed by clusters of people ready to dance the second someone was brave enough to get out there and get it started. Heels and cocktail dresses, suits and ties, drinks in hand and smiles on lips. Music bumped from the direction of the DJ booth, and I caught sight of Cam wiggling around in a sequined black dress, singing along to Lizzo while Tyler laughed hard enough that he couldn’t seem to take a sip of the drink in his hand—the second it reached his lips, a fresh twerk would have him laughing again.