Page 32 of One Little Victory

“Thank you,” I whispered, keeping my eyes closed until a feather-light touch brushed my lips.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, her breath caressing my face as she pulled away and smiled.

How did she know what I needed?

Our footsteps echoed on the pathway toward the door, like some sad funeral march, and she reached down and threaded her fingers through mine. The double door opened as we walked up the steps, and we were greeted by the kind eyes of David, the estate manager.

His expression was stoic, as always, but his lips turned up when he noticed our joined hands. “Ah. Young Simon. I’ve missed your last several visits. How are you?” he asked, holding his arms open.

I let go of Addison’s hand and stepped into his embrace, smelling fresh cotton and tea. Some of my fonder childhood memories were of him teaching me how to play gin rummy and planting heirloom tomatoes in the garden.

“I’m good, David. I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Addison.” We’d tiptoed around the labels, but if they made her uncomfortable, she hid it well, holding her hand out to David with a smile.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you. Simon speaks so highly of you, David.”

My stupidity at not mentioning him was dwarfed as I watched Addison grasp David’s hands with such warmth and sincerity you would think I’d spent hours telling her stories about him. He blushed—the man who once scolded me for scuffing his perfectly waxed floors blushed with the praise and kissed her cheek. “The pleasure is mine, dear lady. I hope this will be one of many visits.”

“I’d like that very much,” she said as David let go and motioned us inside the foyer. I turned to Addison as she took it all in, her head on a constant swivel. I got it—the marble, paintings, and white-gloved elegance—Fucking overkill.

We should have spent more time on things like this stupid house and less on the trivial bits, but it was the trivial stuff I cared about. What made her smile? What was her favorite color, and did she have any allergies? The dual fucking staircases and the formal garden access off the west wing didn’t matter.

Oh fuck, does she have allergies?

“Your parents asked that I escort you to the formal dining room, but maybe you’d prefer to take the long way past the library instead?” David’s eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head toward the east wing.

“Excellent idea.”

“I’ll have a drink waiting for you. The usual, I presume. And for you, Miss?”

“A gimlet, please, David. Thank you. Lead the way, sweetheart.” She took my hand as I led her to the right of the center hall and down a mahogany-paneled gallery of family portraits. The eyes gave me the creeps, painted to follow you as you moved. I avoided looking at them, having suffered my fair share of nightmares, but Addison gave them each a glance.

“What was that about? It seemed like you and David were having a completely different conversation than what was spoken.”

“You picked up on that, did you?” I chuckled, pulling her close as we left the portraits and came to a large oak door.

“Mmm,” she answered, melting to my side as I pushed it open. Evening light filtered through the windows, giving the library an eerie glow, and I felt the tension melt as I stared at the shelves. Two floors of every book imaginable, complete with a winding staircase and comfy armchairs filled the space. Maybe we could stay here all night, getting lost in the stacks. “This is amazing. What a place to grow up.”

“There were definitely perks. I used to read in here for hours as a boy. David would find me and carry me to my room. Once I got too big, he’d cover me with a blanket and leave a hot chocolate on the nearest table,” I said, reaching out to trace my fingers across the spines.

“I could tell he means a lot to you.”

“Yes, he does, and I should have mentioned him. And this house. Fuck, we need a secret handshake or something in case my parents ask questions we don’t have answers for.”

“Honestly, Simon, I can read your face pretty easily when you’re not actively trying to stay impassive. The way you smiled when you saw David was the same way you smiled when you mentioned your sister. I hate that tonight’s got you so anxious. Let’s think of a signal and get this show on the road,” she said, patting my chest. I took her hand and led her up the spiral stairs and to the door leading past the guest suite and balustrade.

“Growing up, whenever David would come to me with a direct request from my father, he’d suggest I take the long way past the library. Later, I discovered he did that because he knew how much the library relaxed me.”

I’d never told anyone our secret, not even Beth, and here I was, opening up to Addison like she was my actual girlfriend.

“Smart man.”

“Right. The dining room’s back down the stairs. We can go through the kitchen,” I said, leading her down the hallway and to the staircase on the opposite side of the house. “Go ahead, honey.” My hand rested on the small of her back as we made our way down, wishing she’d worn a shirt so I could slip my fingers under it to feel her skin.

“Why don’t we do one tap for yes, and two for no? Something simple.” She tapped the side of my leg and I nodded, feeling her warmth through my slacks.

“That’s perfect, honey,” I said as we walked through the kitchen. The smells were fantastic, and I nodded to the chef, who returned my greeting before turning back to the soup on the stove. “Time to meet the parents.”

“Simon, your martini’s getting warm,” my father said, tilting his chin toward the glass without sparing a glance at Addison. My parents were sitting at opposite ends of their six-person table, with my martini glass on one side and Addison’s on the other. They could have had us next to each other. Or hell, comfortably in the informal dining room, but that wasn’t how Robert Kelly operated. His moves were calculated, waiting for the slightest slip-up or deviation from your story so he could strike.