Page 28 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

Ispot them from the entrance. Booth in the middle of the room, good bottle open on the table, Sophia holding court the way she always does with Lorenzo watching her like she personally invented conversation. Raphael is on the outer edge of the booth and Harper is beside him and she’s laughing at something and she looks warm and loose and easy in the way she gets when the professional armor is down for the evening.

She doesn’t see me come in.

Raphael does. His expression falls immediately, making me grin.

I cross the room and slide into the booth on Harper’s other side without announcing my arrival and without asking, because the invitation already happened over text and I don’t require a second one. She turns at the movement and her eyes find mine and something moves across her face, quick and bright, before she arranges it back into something more neutral.

“You came,” she says.

“Told you I was.” I reach across her for the wine bottle and top off her glass without asking and then pour myself one from the spare glass Sophia has already materialized from somewhere. I settle back and my arm finds the back of the booth behind Harper’s shoulders, easy and unhurried, like it belongs there.

It doesn’t move.

Sophia beams across the table at me. “Uncle Mad Max. What are you doing here?”

“Harper texted me.” I look at Harper beside me.

She meets my eyes.

“She did?” Sophia asks, but I’m still looking at Harper. The way her eyes seem to absorb all light, yet glitter gold near her pupils.

Harper picks up her wine glass and looks across the table instead of at me.

I stay exactly where I am.

The evening is easy. Sophia is in rare form and she’s talking about Rosé’s pace and Lorenzo is adding things and Raphael is laughing and Harper is engaged, occasionally saying something that cuts straight to the point of whatever Sophia’s circling and Sophia points at her every time.

My arm doesn’t move from the back of the booth.

Raphael looks at it twice. I notice both times. I don’t acknowledge either.

At some point my fingers find the end of Harper’s hair where it falls past her shoulder and I start turning the ends around one finger, slow and idle, not making a thing of it. She goes very still for exactly two seconds. Then she exhales and lets her shoulder drop back against my arm and I feel that small surrender all the way down my spine.

She’s still looking at Sophia. Still nodding at whatever’s being said about accent walls and inventory display flow. Completely composed.

I keep my face straight too.

Raphael looks at it a third time. He picks up his drink.

I wait until there’s enough noise at the table to have a private conversation in plain sight.

“I thought I told you to use my number for emergencies,” I say, low, near her ear.

She turns her head just enough. Her mouth is right there. “Considering how hard you three have been keeping Raphael away from me, I figured he qualified.”

“Ah.” I pull the strand of hair I’ve been holding and let it fall. “So you’re using me as a solution to a problem I created.”

“Seems efficient.”

“I do like efficiency.” My fingers find her hair again. “Is it working?”

Her eyes cut to Raphael across the table. Back to her glass. “Somewhat.”

I smile and say nothing and the evening keeps moving around us.

It’s past ten when Lorenzo leans toward Sophia with that quiet thing he does and the table’s energy shifts.

“We should probably get to bed,” he says.