Chapter 25 TWENTY-FIVE
The days started blurring together in a way that made Lennox lose track of time. Wednesday felt like Monday. Saturday felt like Thursday. Wake up to Callum's shower. Coffee alone in the kitchen. Volunteer work or thank you notes or whatever Patricia needed. Callum texting that he'd be late. Going to bed alone while he worked in his office.
The tabloids were having a field day with their marriage. Patricia sent her links almost daily, pleased as anything.
Westbrook Heir and New Bride Spotted at Charity Gala - The Love is Real!
Inside Callum and Lennox Westbrook's Blissful Newlywed Life
Sources Say the Couple Can't Keep Their Hands Off Each Other
That last one made Lennox laugh. Sources. What sources? They barely spoke unless absolutely necessary.
But the photos looked good. Professional shots from the wedding, candid ones from events. In every single one, they looked convincing.
Tuesday morning, Patricia called.
"Darling, I need you at the Carlyle on Thursday. Charity brunch for the children's hospital, very low-key, only about thirty women."
"Thursday works."
"Wonderful. Eleven AM. Wear something spring-like, pastels if you have them. I'll send you a briefing with the guest list."
The briefing arrived an hour later. Four pages about who would be there, their backgrounds, safe conversation topics. Patricia had highlighted the important ones, added notes in the margins.
Mrs. Harrison - loves talking about her grandchildren, DO NOT mention her daughter's divorce
Mrs. Edward - Stanford alum like you, safe topic
Mrs. Abbott - can be difficult, steer clear if possible
Lennox read through it twice, memorizing the key points.
Thursday morning she found the Valentino dress Patricia had mentioned, blush pink with three-quarter sleeves. Hair down in loose waves. Makeup natural but polished. The diamond studs Callum had given her after the wedding because Patricia said it would look strange if he didn't.
Marcus drove her to the Carlyle. Private room on the second floor, round tables with fresh flowers, women in pastels and pearls chatting over mimosas.
Patricia waved her over immediately. "You look lovely. Come, let me introduce you."
The next hour was exactly what she expected. Small talk about the weather, compliments on jewelry, polite questions about grandchildren. Mrs. Edward loved talking about Stanford. Mrs. Harrison showed her approximately forty photos of her grandkids. Even Mrs. Abbott seemed pleased when Lennox complimented her Cartier bracelet.
She was doing it. Playing the role perfectly.
Around noon, Victor Harding arrived. The women lit up when they saw him, several standing to greet him warmly. He worked the room slowly, stopping at each table with genuine interest in what people were saying.
"Lennox." He reached their table with a warm smile. "How wonderful to see you. You look beautiful."
"Thank you, Victor."
He kissed Patricia's cheek, greeted the other women at the table, then turned his attention back to Lennox. "How are you? Settling in well, I hope?"
"I am, thank you. Everyone's been incredibly welcoming."
"Good. That's what I like to hear." He pulled up a chair, sat down between her and Mrs. Chen like he had all the time in the world. "Patricia tells me you've been wonderful at these events. Natural grace, she said."
Lennox felt her face warm. "I'm just trying not to embarrass anyone."
"Impossible. You're a breath of fresh air." He signaled the waiter for coffee. "How's Callum? Still working himself to death?"
"Pretty much."
Victor laughed, shook his head. "That boy. I keep telling him life is meant to be lived, not just worked through. But he's stubborn, always has been." He looked at Lennox with what seemed like genuine concern. "You're good for him though. He needs someone to remind him there's more to life than quarterly earnings."
"I don't know if I'm reminding him of much. We barely see each other."
"Give it time. He'll come around." Victor's expression softened. "Marriage is an adjustment, especially for someone like Callum. He's not used to sharing his space, his life. But I've known him since he was born. Trust me when I say you're exactly what he needs."
Something about the way he said it made Lennox feel less alone. Like maybe she wasn't failing at this as badly as she thought.
"Thank you. That means a lot."
"Of course, dear." He patted her hand gently, then stood. "I should make my rounds. But we should have lunch again soon. I'd love to hear how you're really doing, not just the public version."
"I'd like that."
He moved on to the next table, and Patricia leaned over. "He adores you. I can tell."
Maybe he did. Maybe Victor was just a kind man who cared about Callum and wanted his marriage to work. Maybe Lennox had been reading too much into their first lunch, letting paranoia color everything.
The brunch wrapped up around one. Patricia walked her out, clearly pleased.
"You were perfect, darling. Mrs. Abbott even said you were delightful."
Marcus drove her home. She changed into leggings and an old sweater, made tea, tried to get work done for the Queens program.
Around five, the elevator opened. Callum walked in, still in his suit, loosening his tie. He stopped when he saw her on the couch.
"Hey."
"Hey. Early day for you."
"Meetings got canceled." He set his briefcase down. "How was the brunch?"
"Fine. Your mom said I didn't embarrass anyone."
"Good." He pulled out his phone, checked something. "I'm going to change."
He disappeared into his room. Twenty minutes later, Lennox went to the kitchen for more tea and found a note on the counter.
Thank you for handling my mother's events. I know it's not easy. I appreciate it. - C
She picked it up, read it twice. The first personal thing he'd written to her. Not a text about scheduling or a message through Gerald.
She folded it, tucked it in her pocket, and tried not to smile. Yes, she’d have preferred if he’d just conveyed the sentiments to her through words, but there was something almost cute about the little note that made her foolishly giddy.
His office door closed. Back to work. Back to the routine.
But when she went to bed that night, she put the note in her nightstand drawer instead of throwing it away, and told herself that his handwriting looked too good to just end up in a bin.