Chapter 148: Stick Close
- RAYA -
"Where’s the brother who was trying to get you to spy? Lawson, right?" Rory asks while we’re sitting at the table and my eyes are roaming over the room, very aware that Laurel keeps shooting glares my way. "Just ignore her, Raya."
"I don’t know where he is," I say honestly.
"Trying to get you to spy?" Dad repeats, and I look at them both.
It’s almost comical now—thinking of Lawson that way. It barely even scratches the surface of how wrong he is. If it was still only a matter of Lawson expecting me to spy on Dex, that would be... easy to stomach. That would be something I could ignore. Which is strange, because I didn’t want to go back to work after the accident because of it. I guess I could already sense that there was more—worse that he was capable of.
"What is that about?" Dad shifts in his chair, leaning forward.
"I don’t really want to talk about it," I say with a weak smile. "It’s not a problem anymore, though."
"He was trying to get with Raya until Dex came along and then he decided he could use her to try to get dirt on his brother instead," Rory says—thankfully in a low voice.
"Rory," I hiss.
"What," she shrugs unapologetically. "It’s true, isn’t it?"
My accident, the subsequent trip to London, Westin leaving... the sequence of events of the last several weeks seems to have stripped away her pretenses more than usual. She’s a protective, unapologetic mama bear. I wonder if she’s that way, because that’s what she needs in someone in her life and she doesn’t have it.
My eyes soften, and I sigh, grabbing her hand that rests on top of the table. I haven’t been there for her like I should. I’m the big sister, not her. I should be the protective one, bristling when anyone looks at her the wrong way.
Rory’s brows furrow at my hand on hers.
"I love you," I tell her under my breath. "Let’s not talk about it. This is their dad’s funeral reception. What if someone overhears? There will be plenty of rumors as it is now that everyone knows Dex and I are together."
"Just imagine if they knew you were living together," she smirks, shooting another glare Laurel’s way.
My hand that was holding hers out of love squeezes, and she chuckles.
"Fine, sorry."
Cricket comes up to the table, wearing her same joyous, excited grin that she always has whenever I see her. It’s contagious. Her and Jay are almost impossible to be upset around.
"Raya," she says, eyebrows shooting up, suggesting a topic of conversation without actually bringing it up.
"Cricket," I say in return, unable to keep from laughing. She definitely wants to talk about me and Dex. Instead, I introduce her. "This is my sister, Lorelei and my dad, Will."
"Hi," she says with a sweet little wave.
There is nothing not to like about Cricket. Her black dress today speaks to her character so well. Only she could make mourning clothes look adorable. The dress has a white collar and cuffs and ends just above her knee where tights with subtle vertical black stripes continue on down to Mary Janes.
It’s like she’s a little girl in a grown-ups body. Her smile that is as genuine as it is out of place in this atmosphere echoes that, too. She seems so... innocent.
Unsurprisingly, Jay shows up a moment later. For the first time, I wonder why these two don’t get together. They should. They both have that same childlike quality.
"And this is Jay," I say on a soft giggle. "Jay, my dad Will. My sister Lorelei."
"Pleasure to meet you," he says with a small nod. Then his sparkling, curious gaze returns to mine.
"I like your bowtie," I tell him, purposely avoiding the topic they are both obviously wanting information about.
"Oh, thank you," Jay says, taking the compliment and touching the bowtie.
Then he slides into the seat next to me after doing a quick scan of the room. Dex is nowhere in sight, which is probably who he’s looking for.
"You told us you were with a doctor," he whispers with conspiratorial eyes.
"I did not," I chuckle. "You assumed that."
"Raya," Cricket adds with wide eyes, "Alexander Mobius? Dex? Dex Mobius?"
Her voice is a whisper, but I shift uncomfortably. This isn’t the place.
"I’ll tell you both more about it another time," I say, feeling the warm stain of a blush on my cheeks.
When they both stare at me, unrelenting in their silent expectations, I have to add, "I promise."
That seems to work, because Cricket takes a step back. Before I even notice him coming, Dex’s hand appears on the back of Jay’s chair and my poor friend looks like he’s been jump-scared. Jay’s eyes fly wide.
"Boss," he says, getting up quickly. "Mr. Mobius. Mr. Dex," he fumbles, adjusting his jacket. "I’m sorry for your loss. All of our losses. But of course as your father, your loss. Mr. Mobius, I mean Mr. Jansen was such a great man..."
Dex puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Thank you, Jay. Thank you for being here."
Cricket gives Dex a gentle smile that is thankfully diluted of its exuberance, and then she and Jay leave—making their way toward the buffet table where many people have congregated.
Dex watches them go momentarily before turning back to my father and Rory. "Thank you both for coming."
We all stand up, and when Dad shakes Dex’s hand, my body prickles with all of the stares that are alerted to that exchange between the two of them—as if it is of significance. I guess it is. I’m obviously with this very important man, and it looks serious. He’s shaking my father’s hand. It looks like an agreement, an acknowledgement, a passing on of responsibility for me even though that’s not what it’s meant to be at all. There is no responsibility to pass. I’m my own woman.
But just as that thought solidifies in my mind, Dex starts guiding me toward the balcony with his hand on the small of my back. And I don’t mind that subtle hint of possession at all.
There are a few people out on the balcony, looking out at the view. When they catch sight of Dex, he gives them a quick nod before they can approach to offer their condolences and then walks with me to the far end.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, brows furrowed.
He is very intense, his eyes dark and guarded. But as soon as they fall on me, they soften and the honey in his dark brown melts.
Before he answers, he caresses my cheek, lost in a passing thought.
"What did the guy look like?" He asks.
"The guy?"
"At the cemetery. What was he wearing? What did he look like?"
I frown. "You are still worried about that?"
"Please answer me, Raya."
And I figured this conversation was going to be about avocados.
"Uh," my eyes drop to search the recent memory. "A hat, glasses, a trench coat."
"You didn’t see his face?"
"No. And he was in the shade," I add, offering that detail even though it seems silly to include. It just made it seem all the more ominous—like he was intentionally sticking to the shadows.
"Stick close, okay?" He says, dropping his hand and threading it through mine. "I have to mingle with a few people. Will you be uncomfortable remaining next to me?"
Standing by him while he talks to all these important people? Like I’m a spouse? My stomach admittedly twists with nerves at the thought.
"If that’s what you want, I’m here," I tell him. "If it’s only because..."
"It’s for me. Don’t worry," he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it and then leads me back inside.
Luciano is standing next to my sister again, and I snort softly. My dad looks very uncomfortable again. That’s one thing Luciano has going for him at least—if Dad doesn’t approve, it might actually work in his favor. And Rory recently broke up with Westin. She doesn’t look as bothered by him anymore.
"I’m not sure Rory and Luciano are a good idea," I say, leaning closer to Dex. We already discussed this in the car, but it’s amusing and the topic at least gets us off of more serious things.
"I know." His lips twitch toward a smile, and he runs a thumb over my fingers. "It might be entertaining to watch, though. I’ve never seen him get shut down by anyone before. Maybe this will be a first."
I follow next to him, listening and smiling politely to the conversations and condolences. Dex is accepting the memories of his father that are shared with him, and while he does, I can tell by his rigid posture that he is internally guarded, protecting himself, trying not to let the emotions being conveyed sink in deeply enough to get through the very important barrier that he has made for himself today.
It makes me ache for him, and more than a few times, I am the one squeezing and caressing his hand, hoping it lends him some comfort—if that’s what he needs from me. Whatever it is, I’m glad I’m here.
Eventually, we approach one end of the buffet table. Dex walks us past the dishes, not appearing to see them.
"Are you hungry?" He asks, leaning close.
"Not really," I admit. "But you should eat," I add quickly, recalling how little he has lately.
"Oh, I intend to." He casts me a look so heated and intense that it floods the length of my body and makes my toes curl. "But I don’t see anything here that I want," he hums, turning his attention back to the table in mock deliberation. "Maybe we should see if we can find something else here."
