"Nothing..." Sylvia wiped her face quickly with the back of her hand, smearing the last streak of tears into a faint shadow beneath her eye. She pushed herself upright, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Nothing," she repeated.
"Nothing," Winn echoed, his gaze pinning her. "You’re crying, Syl." He wasn’t buying her act for a second.
"No, just... thinking." She twisted her fingers together, eyes darting away from his piercing stare. "Thinking about the way things are spiraling fast. You are planning to get married. Me...I have no idea where my life is going. And when your wife moves in here..." she let out a brittle laugh, trying to play it off, "I’ll be an outsider."
The lie slid from her lips as smoothly as silk, and she was surprised by her own ability to hide behind it. She couldn’t tell him about their father, about the confrontation.
"Hey... it’s going to be okay. You can do anything you want. I’ll buy you a house. How about that? Hell, I’ll employ your personal sober companion, a whole damn staff if you want. We’ll make it a palace." His laughter rumbled low in his chest.
Sylvia let out a choked laugh of her own, the sound wet and shaky, before she collapsed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her. "They are not going to be you," she whispered into him.
His hand stroked her back in soothing circles. "Hey... hey... I am never going to abandon you, Syl. Not on my life. Maybe when I’m dead then I’ll have no choice." He leaned back, catching her eyes, his lips quirking into a crooked grin. "You’re on your own, kid..."
Sylvia let out a real laugh this time. She balled her fist and hit him lightly on his chest. "Idiot," she whispered, shaking her head. Then, softer: "I worry about Mom too."
"Why? What’s wrong?" Winn asked, his brow arched as he studied his sister’s face.
"She seems to be tired almost all the time I go to visit her." Her hands twisted in her lap.
Winn exhaled slowly. "It’s probably just old age," he said. "But after my date tomorrow, I’ll check on her. Make sure she’s okay."
"You’re going on a date?" Sylvia latched onto the shift, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Yeah," Winn said. "It’s actually a double date with Joey and uh...you know...Joey." He stammered over Joey’s wife’s name. it was always a sore topic.
"Ah... she is back, uhn?" Sylvia asked, feigning disinterest. Her rivalry with Joey’s wife was a storm Winn never wanted to get caught in the middle of.
"Yeah, she got in today," Winn confirmed.
"So, a date, uhn?" Sylvia pressed. "Still not going to tell me who this mystery woman is?"
"Not yet," Winn said firmly. He liked having this secret, holding Ivy’s name close to his chest. Thɪs chapter is updated by Novᴇl_Fire(.)net
"Oh, come on! Okay, fine. Tell me where you’re going?"
"We’re going to Mina’s."
"The one on Central Park?" Sylvia’s eyes widened slightly, impressed.
"Yeah." Winn rose to his feet then, unbuttoning his shirt. He stretched his shoulders, then tossed her a lopsided grin. "I’m going to crash. Good night, Sis."
Sylvia hugged her knees to her chest as she watched him leave, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Good night, bro," she whispered back.
Winn picked up Ivy at exactly 8 p.m. She met him at the door. Ivy stood framed by the soft light spilling from her apartment, wearing a black sleeveless dress. The back swept long, cascading gracefully to her calves, while the front rose daringly above her knees—elegant yet deliciously provocative.
Winn felt his throat tighten. He mostly saw her in skirts and pants at work, crisp blouses that managed to be modest and distracting at the same time. But here? With her hair tumbling down, lips glossed, and legs bare beneath that slit of fabric, she was temptation.
Christ, he thought, standing next to her, looking this gorgeous, I’m suddenly feeling every damn year between us.
Ivy, sensing his stare, flushed a little, her confidence wobbling under the weight of his gaze. "What?" she asked, brushing at her hip nervously. "Do I... do I look okay?"
"You look great," Winn said, and the words came out softer than he intended.
"Thanks." Ivy’s lips curled into a shy smile. "You look good too, but then—you always look good."
Winn smirked, brushing it off in his usual way. "So, shall we?" he asked. She nodded quickly, grabbing her purse from the small table by the door.
When they reached the car, Winn moved ahead and pulled the door open for her. Ivy glanced at him as she slid into the seat.
He rounded the car, slipped into the driver’s seat, and pulled into the evening traffic.
"So who is this friend we are having dinner with?" she asked after a stretch of silence.
"Joey and his wife." Winn kept his tone even.
Her brows shot up. "Mr. Winsford?"
"Yeah..." Winn shrugged, one hand on the wheel, the other relaxed against his thigh.
"Isn’t he going to ask questions? I mean..." she swallowed, "...he is the COO."
"And he’s my friend." Winn finally looked at her then.
"Oh Lord." Ivy groaned, her hand flying to cover her face as she leaned back against the seat. "Please tell me you gave him some kind of work excuse—like, I don’t know, you needed your secretary to take notes while you ate."
Winn chuckled. He reached over and placed his hand on her thigh.
"Hey..." His thumb began stroking lazy circles against her skin. "It’s going to be okay. Relax."
Ivy peeked at him from behind her fingers, her pulse jumping. Relax? How the hell was she supposed to relax with his hand on her?
He was suddenly aware that his hand was resting against her bare thighs. Her skin was soft, smooth, and warm under his palm. Winn told himself it was casual, innocent even—just a reassuring gesture. The feel of her skin was magnetic.