Page 85 of Careless Whisper

“The Degas was priceless,” Anna huffed. “And the hairdryer was a Dyson mind you, very efficient.”

They talked easily and laughed a lot. I laughed a lot too.

This wasn’t some stiff-upper-lip Bostonian dinner table. The Lancasters clearly came from old money, and with Ignacio—who was a top diplomat (which I half-suspected was code for spy)—this family was as polished as they came. And yet, they weren’t speaking like royalty burdened by centuries of legacy the way my parents did.

“Are you close with your parents?” Anna asked. “As an only child, you must be.”

I’d learned that Carlos—Reggie’s brother—was very much in the picture, along with his wife. They lived abroad, but from the way Anna, Reggie, and Ignacio talked about them—knowing every detail of their lives—it was as if they lived next door.

“No,” I murmured, considering and added, “We aren’t warm the way you are, or as connected.”

“You were raised in Boston, right?” Anna asked kindly.

“Beacon Hill,” I nodded. “Mahogany walls, too many oil portraits. I was raised on legacy and guilt.”

“Anna’s mother has several oil portraits and some mahogany walls, I’m sure,” Ignacio said gently.

I bobbed my head in agreement. “But Faye raised Anna, and I can tell you, Anna, yourmumis special.”

“She certainly is.” Ignacio mock shuddered.

Anna slapped his shoulder. “Oh, stop. You know, Mum and he are thick as thieves? When she was getting you down here, she conspiredwith Ignacio, not me.”

Reggie pursed her lips. “I still can’t believe you did me dirty like that.”

“Oh, please!” Anna rolled her eyes. “You are delighted to have a man as capable as Dr. Graham in your clinic.”

Ignacio turned to me. “Is how you were raised the reason you stood by Dr. Loring?”

His candor disarmed me. He wasn’t pussyfooting around and neither was he being accusatory. He was, trying to understand me.

“Yes,” I admitted. “Her parents and mine are close. I couldn’t imagine her lying to me.”

“But you could imagine Reggie would…because you didn’t know her history,” Ignacio mused.

“When family name and loyalty are drilled into your skull all your life, it’s hard to pivot. My parents aren’t unkind,” I explained, “just…efficient. Loving meant making you strong and tough. I think that’s why I didn’t know what to do with Reggie,then. She cracked open a part of me I didn’t know was still soft.”

“And now?” Anna asked as Reggie groaned.

“Now?” I smiled wide. “I’m crackedwideopen—all hers to see and, hopefully, eventually accept.”

“This boy has some brass balls!” Ignacio muttered, amused. “He’s hitting on my daughter in my house.”

“Well, why don’t I take the temptation away,” Anna suggested and winked at me.

“Be nice, Papa.” Reggie kissed her father’s cheek and followed her mother inside the house.

Ignacio and I sat alone at the table with fairy lights above us and a bottle of Mezcal between us.

Ignacio gave me a measured look. “She’s not easy to win over.”

“I don’t expect her to be.”

He nodded, swirling the mezcal in his glass. “Good. Because if you did, you wouldn’t deserve her.”

I looked down, smelling the smokiness of the drink. “I hurt her. I know that.”

“Twice.”

---