Page 121 of Luck of the Draw

Orson offered his hand to Skye, and she took it. “It’s lovely to meet you, Skye. I hope you’re recovering well. We were very saddened to hear about your injuries.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking an involuntary step closer to Brennan. “I’m doing very well. Brennan’s taking wonderful care of me, even with all the responsibilities he has at work. Especially after being promoted recently. I’m extremely fortunate to have someone so compassionate and understanding look after me in this situation.”

Orson subtly lifted one eyebrow and cut his eyes at Brennan. “That’s very good to hear.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gestured at the table. “Please, join us.”

Brennan pulled out a chair and offered his hand to Skye as she sat. He placed his hand on the back of it as he stooped to her ear and whispered, “I could kiss you for that.”

A smile tugged her lips as Brennan quickly reached for Constance’s chair, and she shooed him playfully. “Just sit, darling. You don’t need to do that.”

He pulled out the chair next to Skye. “Yes, ma’am.”

Between Brennan, Constance, and Orson all passing around dishes, Skye’s plate was now piled high with eggs, bacon, waffles, fruit, and crepes. One of them set a small, steaming bowl of shrimp and grits next to a glass, which was swiftly filled with a mimosa.

“My goodness,” she said to herself.

“Don’t be overwhelmed, my dear,” Orson said. “Feel free to simply sample things. Nobody’s feelings will be hurt if you don’t clean your plate.”

“And I certainly won’t bring up the starving children in Africa like I did to Brennan and his sisters when they were little,” Constance added.

“Oh. Your sisters.” He’d only mentioned his sisters once in passing, and Skye’s curiosity about them was piqued.

Brennan quickly picked up the silent cue and took the lead. “Yes, Annabeth lives in San Francisco and Della is in Manhattan. A pediatrician and a literary agent, respectively.”

“That’s quite a span of difference between their professions.” Skye scooped a dainty bite of eggs onto her fork as she wracked her brain for the next polite, conversational observation or question she could offer. The brunch already felt like a marathon. “And you’re in the music industry.” She offered Constance and Orson a warm smile. “You both must be very proud to have such cultured and accomplished children.”

“Well,” Orson piped up. “The girls certainly did very well for themselves. Stable careers. Respectable husbands. Beautiful children. Brennan has obviously struggled to…” He gestured with his fork. “...find his way.”

Brennan swallowed half of his mimosa and then set down the glass rather loudly. He stared at the middle distance in front of his face and did a slow blink but said nothing.

“Skye mentioned he was promoted recently,” Constance offered, turning to Brennan. “When we visited the other day, she mentioned things seem like they’re going well at Mr. Hall’s record label.”

“How are things going over there, Brennan?” Orson challenged him. “Was it a real promotion or did you just ask for a new title to put on your business cards?”

Brennan cleared his throat. “No. I’m his account executive. I manage retail distribution to ensure our catalog is available in every music retail establishment nationwide, which includes maximizing client retention and recapturing formerly stagnant revenue opportunities.”

“Meaning you’re his sales guy,” Orson said flatly.

“You know, while I’ve been healing up, I usually go to work with him during the day, and I’ve had the opportunity to learn a little bit about the business side of running a record label,” Skye cut in, reaching for Brennan’s hand under the table, and thank God for Liza. This was exactly what Skye had figured Brennan’s father would say. “From what I understand, the brick-and-mortar retail market is extremely challenging due to a shift in buyer behavior over the past ten years. Many local record stores are struggling, so they’re not very receptive to taking on stock from relatively lesser-known artists, such as the ones represented by Mr. Hall’s label. Nevertheless, label owners such as Mr. Hall still depend greatly on those types of traditional corner record stores, both for profit and for discovery. It might be sales in a technical sense, but it’s critical to the longevity of not only the label, but of local New Orleans music by extension. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Brennan drifted a glance at Skye’s face, and his expression positively melted. Under the table, he folded his fingers between hers and stroked the back of her hand.

Orson’s mouth pulled into an impressed frown while he raised his eyebrows. “Well, when you put it that way.” He chuckled and dabbed his mouth with the napkin. “Goodness sakes, Brennan. Maybe you should have this young lady speak up for you more often. I think she can explain what you’ve been up to a lot more competently than you can.”

Brennan did a cavalier lift of one eyebrow. “I supposed explanations have never been my strong suit.”

“Butexcusesare another story, aren’t they?”

“What I find really astonishing is how he’s able to juggle all of that and still manage to look after me,” Skye added, slightly louder and more self-assured, because fuck this guy. Orson was a dick. Brennan may have been the spitting image of his dad, but his true beauty—his heart, his kindness, his total personification of that other kind oflove—had to have come from his mother. “Without being too candid, this whole ordeal has kept me an emotional wreck. If he wasn’t here for me through all this, I just don’t know what I’d do. I don’t think I’ll ever meet a more supportive, wonderful man, and I’m just so incredibly grateful to know him.”

“Oh honey,” Constance murmured, clutching her pearls. “I’m so happy to hear that. And I am so proud of you, Brennan. It’s like you’ve become a completely different person.”

Brennan offered a sage nod. “I imagine a situation like the one we went through can change a person.”

“It certainly can,” Constance said.

“Yes, yes,” Orson agreed, twitching his mustache and eyeing Brennan critically. He coughed into his fist. “I do recall that I haven’t received any more bills from Harrah’s.”

“I don’t expect you would given that I haven’t been back to Harrah’s since the incident,” Brennan said flatly.

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