Weston stepped forward, bracing his hand on my shoulder. “Think about it, Elliot. Did this start because you have real feelings for her, or was it because you saw another mother in crisis and this time you could help her?”
I knocked his hand off me, seething at his audacity. I wasn’t a violent person, but right now, it was strumming through my veins. “The fuck did you just ask me?”
I craned my neck to check the front door. No sign of Catherine yet, thank Christ.
Weston held his hands up. “I’m not trying to insult you or Kit, I swear.”
Luca edged between us. “We’re looking out for you—and her.”
“It seems to me like you’re insulting us both.” I crossed my arms so I didn’t use them. I was close. So fucking close.
Luca chuffed. “You had no problem questioning my marriage to Saoirse. None of us are ‘yes’ men. We don’t hold back with each other.”
“Your questions are so far out of line it would be laughable if I weren’t furious.”
Weston patted Luca on the arm, moving him aside. “If we’re out of line, then I’m sorry. I hope I’m wrong. But I know you, Elliot. I was there when your mother lost it and you couldn’t do anything to prevent what happened. I saw your gnawing guilt when she died. I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t question your motives behind becoming entrenched in Kit and Joey’s lives as quickly as you have. Is this real, or are you—？”
“Enough,” I hissed. “Your concern is so goddamn ridiculous, I don’t have words. I have wanted that woman since the first moment I saw her, and I’m lucky she wants me back. Joey is a bonus, not a drawback. Allow me to set you straight right now. Catherine is nothing like my mother. If I ever hear you say another negative thing about her, we’ll be done.”
Weston flinched, and Luca released a jagged exhale. I might have been harsh in my delivery, but at least the message had been received. My relationship with Catherine was not up for discussion.
“This is concern, not judgment.” Luca sounded more subdued than I’d ever heard him. “She’s really lovely.”
“No kidding.” My jaw flexed. “She makes me feel…she makes me feel.”
Noise spilled out of the restaurant behind me. I spun, spotting Catherine carrying Joey in her car seat over her arm.
“Elliot, look, I’m sorry—” I cut Weston off with my raised hand, walking away from them without looking back.
It killed me that the two of them couldn’t be pleased for me, and Weston’s accusations would be circling my mind for some time. Not because there was any veracity to them but because he believed they might’ve been true.
I slipped the cart seat from Catherine’s hold and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
Touching my lips to her temple, I held her for a moment, grounding myself in her soft, easy presence.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Catherine
If I hadn’t left Joey’s blanket at the table, I wouldn’t have gone back to fetch it after I’d finished in the restroom. Then, I wouldn’t have seen the side exit door that was much easier to leave through rather than weaving between tables to get to the front door.
If I hadn’t left through the patio, I never would have heard Weston call me a mother in crisis. If I’d been able to move my feet and open my mouth, I could have announced my presence and wouldn’t have heard Elliot’s friends question why in the world he would be with me if not to save me from the same fate his mother suffered.
If only…
I’d heard everything, and even though I’d tried to play it cool by rushing back inside and exiting out of the front door instead, I couldn’t pretend well enough for Elliot not to figure out something was off.
As soon as Joey was in bed for the evening, he took me by the shoulders and led me into the study. Then he parked me in his lap and held me tight.
“Talk to me,” he demanded gently.
As much as I wanted to, there was no getting around this. This conversation had to happen. Taking a deep breath, I blurted it out.
“I’m a mother in crisis.”
He knew immediately what I was talking about. It was like he caved in, his breath exploding, body curling around mine.
“You heard?”
I nodded. “I used the patio exit and did the thing I always accuse you of doing.”
“You eavesdropped.”
I nodded.
He grimaced like he was in pain, then buried his nose in my hair and stroked his fingers up and down my arm. He was comforting me, but I sensed he was reassuring himself too.