More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(103)

Harris stared down at her in concern before seeming to register the reason for her hesitation.

“Shit. Tina . . .” His voice was riddled with guilt and regret, and Tina didn’t want all those negative emotions to surface again.

“It’s okay, Harris,” she said, offering him a tight smile. “I just . . . haven’t been here in a while, that’s all.”

“We can leave.”

“We’re here now; leaving would be rude. Let’s go and say hi to your parents.” She took a confident step toward the living room, where she knew the Chapmans liked to enjoy a civilized predinner drink.

Harris should have known coming here would be hard on her. He was an insensitive prick. All these years, and Tina had never once come back to this house. After she had returned from Scotland, Libby had visited her at the Jenson home. And Harris had only seen her at her family’s events.

Now here she was, her self-assured stride pausing only once, when she stopped and waited for him to catch up with her.

“You look like a man on his way to face a firing squad,” she teased, and he forced himself to smile. “It can’t get any worse than the messed-up Jenson family dinner last night.”

“I think my mother would die if anything that dramatic ever happened at our dinners.” Harris chuckled. “Dad would probably enjoy it—I swear he looks bored to death since his retirement.”

Constance and Truman Chapman both seemed puzzled to see Tina show up for dinner with Harris, but they hid it well. They also looked disconcerted by Harris’s impressive shiner but appeared to accept his explanation that he’d banged his head at the gym.

The older couple was too proper and polite to ever react with anything so vulgar as horror or shock. Tina was always amazed that Harris came from this family. He had a ready smile and a wicked sense of humor. He wasn’t afraid to show emotion, good or bad.

The rest of the Chapmans kept all those messy emotions on lockdown. Tina knew she had issues with her parents, but her parents were nowhere near as bloodless as Harris’s. The Jensons felt like a family. The Chapmans did not interact like a normal family. It was bizarre. Sitting down to dinner with them felt like sitting through the world’s most boring boardroom meeting.

There were polite questions about how Tina’s restaurant was faring, talk about Harris’s recent trip to Perth, and mundane discussions about household affairs. They still had not found a decent chauffeur since Libby’s father had retired. Apparently, they had been through three drivers since he’d left.

It was only as dessert was being served that conversation took a more personal turn.

“Martine,” Constance Chapman began in her habitually brisk, no-nonsense voice. “I was wondering if you’d mind taking a care package to Olivia for Clara?”

“Oh. No, of course not. I’ll be more than happy to do that for you.”

“Greyson sent us a picture this afternoon. She’s just cut her first tooth. Can you believe that? At only six months old? Harrison and Greyson both cut theirs at a relatively late eight months old.”

Tina stared. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help herself. She was pretty sure her jaw had dropped too. But seriously? Was this the same woman who not five minutes ago had been boringly telling them of her plans to redo the kitchen?

Constance Chapman was beaming. And when Tina’s eyes shifted to Truman, he was nodding and smiling along with everything his wife said. Looking for all the world like a doting granddad. She half expected both of them to whip out photographs and point out their granddaughter’s many charms.

Her stare cut to Harris, who couldn’t quite disguise his grin as he watched his parents. Apparently, Greyson had Skyped them last night while he was babysitting Clara and had held the baby up to the laptop so that her grandparents could see her.

“She recognized our voices—I’m quite certain of that and—”

“She tried to touch the screen,” Truman interrupted eagerly, and Constance shot him an irritated glare.

“I was getting to that,” she said, allowing impatience to creep into her usually emotionless voice. “And she smiled!”

“We couldn’t see the tooth,” Truman said, looking and sounding extremely disappointed. “But Greyson told us it was there and then sent the photograph this afternoon.”

“I thought you were never going to pick your jaw up off the floor,” Harris teased in her hotel room an hour later.

“Seriously,” Tina hissed urgently. “Who the hell were those people?”

“I know, right? It’s the most bizarre thing. They’re like . . . real grandparents. It’s as if somebody flipped a switch in their brains after Clara was born. They’re super boring and emotionless one moment but light up like beacons the second anybody mentions Clara.”

“I think that’s really sweet,” Tina said, and Harris nodded.

“Very sweet,” he repeated absently, and Tina, who had been pouring them both a glass of wine, looked up to find him staring at her intently. She had invited him to follow her to her hotel after dinner, and he had done so without argument.

“Why am I here?” he asked, and she handed him his glass of red wine before replying.

“You know why.”

“I think maybe I do . . .” He grabbed her hand and tugged her down beside him. “But in case I’m mistaken, why don’t you show me?”