“I’m sorry,” she repeated, wringing her hands. Part of him wanted to grab her and pull her close so he could kiss her concerns away. He felt more for Gracie than he had any other woman. She ignited him, stirred long-forgotten feelings. “If it means anything at all I… I like you. A lot.”
But it wasn’t to be.
“It doesn’t mean anything if you’re willing to let it go,” he said.
He stalked out of the room, each purposeful stride putting much needed distance between him and Gracie. He should have known this was coming. He did see it coming, but he’d been in denial. Blinded by lust and infatuation with a girl who was like a manifestation of his past.
Did he think that getting her to scream his name would be enough to break down her ideals? That a night of pleasure would undo the years of brainwashing from her parents?
Des turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the hot water pelt against him. He wanted to wash this morning from his memory and forget that he ever let Gracie under his skin. The muffled sound of the front door closing made him grit his teeth.
Damn it.
He thumped a fist against the hard tiles of the shower, wanting to divert the pain to something physical. He didn’t need another judgemental, spoiled little rich girl in his life. Been there, done that. Yet he couldn’t shake the empty ache in his chest knowing Gracie was gone.
And that she’d taken a piece of him with her.
Chapter Eight
Spring had given way to the first balmy days of summer, and Gracie embraced the change of season with gusto. She’d written to-do lists and ticked things off with an enthusiastic frequency. She’d made goals and set the wheels in motion to achieving them.
She’d deleted her online dating profile—make that profiles. Plural. She’d cancelled the email account she used specially for exchanging details with prospective dates. She’d even called the agency who ran the speed dating and singles networking events to ask that they remove her phone number from their records. When her cute new neighbor down the street had asked her out for a drink, she’d politely declined.
Gracie Greene had a new set of rules. Well, just one rule: Forget about dating.
Since Des had refused her apology—and refused her calls on the few times she’d mustered the courage to dial his number—she’d looked upon her situation with fresh eyes. She didn’t resent him. In fact, she was thankful he’d been able to shed light on the sort of person she’d become—one obsessed with artificial perfection.
Of course it had stung. She’d shed her fair share of tears in the days afterwards. But she understood. She’d rejected the one person who cared for her because of who she was. He wasn’t anything like the men who’d shown up to dates because she had a photogenic face and social pedigree. It had recently occurred to her that anyone with access to the internet would have been able to see her connection to the late and great Richard Greene, former head of surgery and namesake of the Greene wing at Melbourne Private.
Yet Des had liked her for nothing other than who she was and she’d thrown it away because she was worried her mother would look down her nose at him, and because she’d made a promise to her father that she’d never be able to keep.
But the fault was hers, and as part of her desire to let go of the pursuit of perfection, she was accepting responsibility…even if it meant going solo for a while.
A knock at her front door broke Gracie out of her reverie. Placing her coffee cup on the kitchen table, she abandoned her book and jogged on bare feet to see who it was. Sunlight streamed through the glass panels of her apartment’s entrance, flooding the front room with golden tones. Outside, a slender figure stood close to the door.
“Gracie?” Emmaline’s distinctive tone sounded as Gracie unlocked the door.
“Hey Ems—” She stopped short when she opened the door to the tear-stained face of her sister. Emmaline’s normally perfect blond hair was falling out of its ponytail, her cheeks were splotchy and pink. “What’s wrong?”
A sob wrenched from Emmaline’s throat. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand as more tears slid down her face. Her usual attire had been replaced with a baggy sweater and leggings, something Gracie hadn’t seen her in since living at home.
Enveloping her sister in a hug, she was about to close the door when a car pulled into the driveway. Gracie instantly recognized the silver Bentley as her mother’s. Gravel kicked up at the wheels as the car pulled to an abrupt stop in her driveway. Cecilia got out and slammed the door behind her. Her ankles wobbled on pencil-thin stilettos as she stalked up to where her daughters stood.
“Please leave!” Emmaline’s plea was high-pitched and desperate, drawing the attention of Gracie’s neighbor, who was pruning roses in his front yard.
“Get inside,” Cecilia hissed. “Don’t you dare cause a scene.”
“What on earth is going on?” Gracie looked from her sister to her mother and back again.
“It’s Conrad.” Emmaline’s chest heaved, the words catching in her throat. “He’s been cheating on me.”
“What?” Gracie blinked, stepping back to allow the two women through her front door.
She led Emmaline to the living room and set her down on the couch. There must be some mistake. There was no way Conrad would cheat on Ems. She was the most caring wife anyone could possibly have.
“He’s cheating on me, Gracie.” Emmaline’s breathing came in short bursts.
“Hey, hey.” Gracie rubbed her sister’s arms, her brows knitting together. “Don’t hyperventilate on me. Take it slow and tell me what happened.”
“Your sister is making a mountain out of a molehill. You shouldn’t encourage her, Gracelyn.” Cecilia huffed and dropped into a wingback chair, facing them. Her frail hands twisted in her lap, absently wrenching one of her bauble-like jewels around and around.
“I went to visit him at the office.” Emmaline heaved the words through sobs. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, as though she were staring directly at the scene she’d uncovered earlier. “And his secretary said he was out, so I let myself through to drop off his lunch, because he’d left it at home and I didn’t want him to go hungry—”
Of course she didn’t. Gracie sighed. Her sister was by far the sweetest, most selfless person she knew. Conrad had always seemed like the perfect choice for Emmaline, despite the fact that Gracie had never warmed to him. But he’d ticked all the boxes—wealthy and educated, ran his own optometry practice. He came from a high-class family.
Not that any of it mattered now. She was going to set Conrad straight when she saw him next…if she didn’t claw his face off first.
“—and then when I was dropping it off I noticed his car was still in the parking lot. I asked his secretary where he was and she said he was offsite, which didn’t sound right if his car was still there, but the receptionist is old and I thought maybe she was confused. I went to leave, and then I heard his voice coming from one of the exam rooms and I walked in on them.”
Gracie didn’t need to hear what was next, but she let Emmaline get it all out.
“He was in there—screwing the other optometrist right on the examination chair!”
Oh, no.
“You’re being ridiculous Emmaline.” Cecila threw her hands up in the air. “One indiscretion is not worth throwing away your marriage.”
Emmaline’s hands fluttered at her neck. She looked like a baby bird who’d been pushed out of the nest. “We took vows, Mother. Vows!”
“I’m so sorry.” Gracie stroked her sister arm. “I think you’re absolutely right to be upset. He should never have done that.”
“I’d had a funny feeling for a while, but I kept ignoring it thinking I was worrying for nothing. God knows how many times it’s happened before. He tried to tell me it was only this once but—”