“I’ll review these tomorrow,” he said.
Her smile tightened. “The deadline is tonight.”
“Then they should have arrived earlier.”
“Harrison, you usually trust me with these things.”
“I’m trying to be more present in the company.”
The silence that followed was small but dangerous.
Then Deborah laughed softly. “Of course. That’s healthy. I’m proud of you.”
He carried the contracts to his study, closed the door, and photographed every page with a device Graham had given him.
That night, Harrison met Graham and Julian at a restaurant on the far West Side. Seeing Julian in ordinary light was somehow more painful than seeing him in the rain. He was alive, yes, but altered. His body carried the price of every lie.
Graham hugged his nephew for a long time.
“You look like your mother,” he said gruffly.
