“Walt, I need to go.” He didn’t bother waiting for his brother’s reply before hanging up. Focusing solely on me, he cupped my face and kissed me as he took us back to bed.
5:17 p.m.
“When I say I’m busy, that means I’m busy,” I heard him say as I opened the door to the bedroom.
He had gotten a call his brother was coming up to the penthouse and tried to stop him before he made it inside. Apparently he’d failed. Back in my clothes, I came out and stood at the top of the stairs. Walter was below, dressed in white slacks, a dark-blue button-down shirt, and a blazer. His dark, curly brown hair was down instead of in a bun, and next to him stood his wife, Tori, dressed in a light-pink lace dress, her blonde hair in beach waves.
“Mom said not to take no for an answer. She wants us all there,” Walter replied, already heading toward the kitchen. “You wouldn’t happen to have Junípero Gin, would you?” He saw me. “Felicity?”
“Hi.” I waved as I walked down the stairs.
“Hi,” he said before glancing at Theo, who was in jeans and a basic shirt. “Very busy, huh?”
“What my husband is trying to say is hello, Felicity. We didn’t know you were here.” Tori came over and gave me a small hug when I got down.
“It was a last-minute thing. Theo was trying to coax me into composing more,” I lied. I wasn’t sure what he was telling people about me, but I doubted it was anything close to the truth.
“You compose upstairs?” Walter’s eyebrow lifted as he looked at his wife. “Why don’t we do that?”
She smacked his shoulder. “We’re sorry for interrupting. It’s just that Lorelai is having a dinner party tonight to celebrate her new book.”
I glanced at Theo, who was at the bar in the corner of the room.
“Theo, you should go. I’m going to head—”
“Here it is. It’s the last bottle I have. Remind Dad he can’t mix it with anything else.” He cut me off as he moved back toward us with a bottle in his hand.
“Theo, you should go celebrate with your mom,” I said, and he gave me a look like he didn’t want talk about it.
“We weren’t done composing yet.”
“Just so we’re clear, composing is code for hot sex, right?” Walter spoke up, and again Tori smacked him.
“Very hot,” Theo replied, and I wanted to hit him. I kicked his foot, but he didn’t even flinch.
“Felicity, excuse them both. Neither of them has a filter. I’m sure Lorelai would love for you to come over. The more the more the merrier when it comes to her celebrations.”
“No, I couldn’t—”
“Fine. We’ll be there. Will you get out of my house now?”
“Isn’t hot sex supposed to make you mellow?” Walter laughed, and Tori had to drag him to the door.
“We’ll see you there!”
He shook his head and sighed. “Sorry. They’re like a side show.”
“I kind of like him. They remind me of my roommates. But am I going to meet your parents now?”
“They aren’t my birth parents, if that makes it any less awkward for you,” he said casually as he moved to his kitchen, knowing full well I would follow for an explanation. So I didn’t ask for one. Instead, I took a seat on a bar stool as he took a bottle of wine, making sure to obscure the label. He poured me a glass of the white wine. My gaze never shifted from his as I drank in the scent of it before taking a small sip.
“Coche-Dury Les Perrieres, Meursault Premier Cru?” I asked him.
He looked at me oddly. “How did you know?”
“What, a working-class girl like myself can’t know wine? I thought I made it clear I can be a little bit showy too.”
He fought an urge to smile. “Fine. What year is it?”
I took another sip. “Nineteen ninety-five?”
“You are one of a kind, Felicity Harper. Wrong, it’s nineteen ninety-one, but still close enough that I’m impressed.” He grinned as he drank.
Rolling my eyes, I changed the subject. “Do I still get to hear your story?”
“I’m shocked you’re interested.”
I shrugged. “Normally I wouldn’t be, but you piqued my interest. Are you a tortured soul, Mr. Darcy?”
“No, just a kid who was raised by a loving, hardworking single mother.” He laughed as he leaned against the counter next to me. “My birth father was the rich and notorious playboy, Charles Darcy.”
“The photographer?” I’d seen a few of his nude works in magazines.
He nodded. “They met while my mother was a bartender. She also worked as a part-time housemaid and even a hotel maid. I grew up not knowing who my father was. The moment he found out she was pregnant, he walked out on her. She never wanted me to meet him anyway. She said he smelled like an ashtray and looked like gum on the bottom of her shoe.”