He's a cynic. She's a romantic. One deal, one wedding, and one gigantic secret stand between them.
**
Harper Lane wants to believe in true love. After her parents split, she began photographing evidence of it. Couples holding hands. Valentine's Day...
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"I think it was the fridge," Griffin said glumly.
Lawson looked up from his phone. Griffin was standing on a raised platform, his arms spread out like a scarecrow. A harried-looking tailor crouched by Griffin's feet, poking and prodding at him with a needle.
"What about the fridge?" Alisdair asked.
He was sifting through a tie catalogue. Analyzing it, probably, Lawson thought; Alisdair worked in marketing, and nothing got him more excited than terms like social media activation and key performance indicator. Griffin frowned.
"That's why Mum was so upset," Griffin said. "Because the fridge didn't have hinges, and all the food had been spoiled."
"You know," Lawson said carefully, "it could have something to do with the smoke damage. Or the fifteen fire code violations."
Griffin looked baffled. "You think?"
Alisdair bookmarked a page. "Maybe you should lay off the explosives, Griff. You could try something less destructive. Like basket weaving."
"Or hula-hooping," Lawson suggested.
"Or ax throwing," Haz chipped in.
All three boys looked at him. Haz scowled.
"What?" Haz asked. "That shit's great for stress relief."
Haz was reclining in a seat, wadding up old receipts and pitching them into a bin. The tailor shot a nervous look at Haz's muddy boots but didn't comment. Few people did, when it came to Haz, Lawson reflected; he looked like the sort of person that would run you over with his motorcycle and laugh about it afterwards.
"I'm going to have to clean," Griffin said mildly, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "And get a new fridge."
Lawson held up his phone. "Already ordered one, mate."
Griffin's brow furrowed. "Does it have hinges?"
"What?"
"The fridge," Griffin repeated. "Does it have hinges?"
Lawson blinked. "I assume so."
"Maybe we should get one without hinges," Griffin said, twisting awkwardly as the tailor measured his leg. "So we can avoid this sort of incident in the future."
"Or maybe," Lawson said, "you could just leave the hinges on the fridge this time."
A throbbing had begun in his temple. Christ. He had no idea how Cass, Griffin's best mate, put up with this; that woman was superhuman. Alisdair — perhaps sensing that Lawson was losing his patience — beckoned him over. He passed Lawson the suit catalogue. Lawson imagined beating Griffin over the head with it and instantly felt better.
"How are you feeling?" Alisdair murmured.
"Violent."
Alisdair gave him a look. Lawson's irritation grew. He opened the catalogue, leafing through it at a leisurely pace, just to annoy Alisdair.
