When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2086

“Got a minute?” Darren asked, a thin thread of tension woven beneath the casual words.

“Plenty of minutes,” Nathaniel answered, shrugging, though his friend could not see it.

“Then share a drink with me now,” Darren said, half-plea, half-command.

Nathaniel glanced around the dormant house. Sitting alone promised nothing but more static thoughts, so he agreed without a second of negotiation.

He slid behind the wheel and guided the car toward Royale Club, tires whispering over empty morning streets.

Darren had already secured a velvet-walled private room.

Daylight usually left Royale Club hollow and echoing, a palace waiting for its nightly court.

When Nathaniel pushed through the carved doors, only Darren occupied the cavernous lounge.

Crystal bottles crowded the table before him like trophies from forgotten empires.

“Nathaniel, over here.” Darren lifted a hand in welcome, the other already curled around a glass.

Nathaniel crossed the plush carpet, settled opposite, poured a tumbler full, and emptied it in one clean motion. The liquor scorched a path to his chest like a ball of welcome heat against the morning chill.

“So, what sudden wind blew you to my door with all this firewater?” he asked, lowering the glass.

“Bad mood,” Darren admitted, lips twisting into a helpless grin. He refilled both glasses and added, “Year-end chaos should have you drowning in work. How did you carve out time to babysit me?”

Nathaniel tipped the second drink back, slower this time, tasting oak and smoke.

“Same reason you called. My mood's in the gutter too.” The honesty came out softer than he expected.

In fact, Nathaniel wasn't actually jealous of his sons.

He wasn't that twisted.

Yet, ever since Cecilia and he patched things up, a sliver of distance had lingered, slippery and unnamed. Nathaniel couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

“Let me guess. Cecilia managed to annoy you?” Darren ventured, sliding a fresh glass Nathaniel's way.

Nathaniel leaned back against the leather couch, his eyes narrowed to slivers while the amber bar-light painted bronze across his cheekbones. “Since when did you start fishing for gossip?” he asked, voice low yet laced with teasing steel. He gave the glass a lazy swirl, then added, “Tell me, Darren. Did Madeline put you in this mood tonight?”

Darren nearly choked on his whiskey, the question snagging halfway up his throat because that was the exact case.

In truth, no one on earth could spoil his mood the way Madeline did.

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