Sway (Landry Family #1)(46)

“No,” she groans. “I have another few pages left. I had to work a few extra hours at Hillary’s and then Huxley’s homework was out of control. You should see the amount of stuff he has to do every night. It’s incredible.”

A vision of me sitting at a table with Hux going over science problems and history questions flashes through my brain. I can see it so clearly.

“Is he doing well though? Does he need a tutor or anything?” I volunteer.

“No. He’s as sharp as a tack. It’s just so much work that it cuts into the time I have for mine. It’s the life of a single mother,” she says easily. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“If you need any help with any of it—”

“We’re fine, Barrett.”

I hear the warning in her voice, to not step too close. I hate it. I hate having a barrier between us, being told to keep any sort of distance. I want to help her, take the loads off that I can remove without any problem.

“I know you’re fine, Alison. I’m just saying that I’m willing to help.”

“I know and it’s appreciated. But it’s important to me that I do this on my own.”

“Do what on your own? Life?” I gruff.

“No,” she sighs. “Not exactly.”

“You do realize I’m not trying to take anything from you right?” I ask. “I want to . . . add to it. Make it better, easier if I can.”

She doesn’t respond for a long while and I give her time to wrangle whatever it is she’s thinking. I wish I were there with her, wrapping her up in my arms. It would make so many things so much better.

“I don’t mean to push . . .” I say, letting my words fall.

“You aren’t pushing, Barrett. I love that you care.”

“Of course I care,” I snort.

“I just don’t need a knight in shining armor. In my world,” she says, pausing, “I am the knight. I’m the one that saves the day.”

“I can respect that. Just let me be the stallion you ride in on.”

She laughs, a free, flowy kind of laugh that makes me join in. “Barrett Landry, you’re impossible.”

Relaxing back on my pillows, I close my eyes and listen to the sound of her voice. It’s what I needed, my antidote.

“I do need to get back to bed,” she yawns. “I have the breakfast shift in the morning, so my mom will be here super early to get Hux up and to her house to get ready for school.”

“Okay. But I wish I were there with you.”

“I do too,” she whispers.

“I can only imagine what it’s like to wake up next to you.”

Her giggle races through the phone. “We wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.”

“I wouldn’t let you get out of bed,” I growl.

“Which is why it’s a good thing you aren’t next to me right now,” she says. “Okay, I’m going. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you then.”

“Goodnight, Barrett.”

“Goodnight.”





Barrett

MY HEADACHE HAS STARTED TO wane after an incredibly long morning, but I can feel it lingering right behind my left eye. I'm in a bad mood, especially after reading a new article ripping me to shreds in the press.

I paste on a smile and wave to a little group of women eyeballing me from the corner of the hotel that houses Picante, a restaurant where Nolan and I are meeting Monroe.

Nolan keeps his face forward and pretends not to notice the waves and gestures from my little fan club. It makes the women happier, we've learned, to think they had a “moment” with me. Ridiculous but true.

I usually give them a quick once-over, just check them out a little bit, see what’s being offered. Normally, if I’m feeling particularly interested, I’d mosey over, make small talk, and grab a phone number for later.

Or two.

Hell, sometimes three.

Today I have zero interest.

"Now, when we get in here, I want you to remember that you're here to appease him," Nolan says under his breath.

"We'll see," I mutter.

The elevator door opens and we walk inside. Nolan presses the button to close the doors before anyone can get on with us. We ride in silence for the few seconds until the door chimes and opens into Picante. It's a small restaurant that's used by the wealthy. You pay a membership and they provide you with excellent food and privacy to boot.

The hostess recognizes me immediately and I can see her replaying our rendezvous together a year or so ago. I can’t help but remember her bent over the hood of my car either.

Her lips fall apart and her eyes glaze over, and I try to give her the least encouraging smile I can.

“Mayor Landry,” she breathes, batting her lashes. “How nice to see you again.”

Nolan bristles at my side as I clear my throat. “I believe we have a table waiting on us.”

She nods, blushing, and leads us through the room. “I was hoping it was you and not one of your brothers when I saw the reservations,” she says sweetly as Nolan sticks an elbow in my side.

"Don't forget," he whispers. "You have the Garalent Gala coming up."

The thought makes my temple start to throb again. I don't want to think about that. At all.