Chapter Thirty-Four
“Mom, what can I get for you?” Chase asked, gesturing to the bartender as his mother scooted onto the barstool next to him, the one Aaron had been sitting on.
“White wine,” she said.
Chase watched her out of the corner of his eye as the bartender cleaned up the mess Aaron had made, wiped the counter down, and then rested a chilled glass of wine in front of his mom.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Anytime,” Chase replied. This was icy and awkward. For all the tense backroom backstabbing deals he’d been involved in, considering the shark-infested political waters he’d just left, he still didn’t have a clue what to say now.
“I’m sorry,” Shelley said, resting both her hands on the bar.
“For?” he said. For leaving, for walking out on him, for what? He didn’t ask. Apologies we
