Des frowned. “Why do you think I need to make up with her?”
“She hasn’t been here in ages and you’re in a permanent bad mood. I might not be a rocket scientist but I can see the connection there.” Paul elbowed him in the ribs, a sly smile crossing his face. “You could always let me talk to her.”
“Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged.” Paul grinned. “Seriously though, what happened?”
“I slept with her,” he said, twisting his mouth into a grimace. “She decided it should be a one night only thing.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Yeah. I don’t want one lousy night. I want all the nights, every damn one of them.”
Paul leaned against the bar and crossed his arms. “Why’d she bail?”
Des sighed. “Something about her family thinking we wouldn’t be a good match.”
“Ah.” Paul nodded. He had no snappy comeback or joke this time. “And you had flashbacks.”
“Yeah.” Des raked a hand through his hair. “That’s what I get for chasing after society princesses.”
“Gracie’s not just a society princess.”
“Since when do you take her side?”
Paul laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m not taking sides. All I’m saying is that you’re putting your baggage on her when maybe there’s more to the story.”
“What more could there be?”
“She obviously likes you. I can tell you she never once looked at her dates the way she looked at you.”
“So?”
“Did you ever think that maybe her family issues embarrass her?”
Des blinked. “Uh, no.”
Paul shrugged. “Maybe she thinks that dragging you into her family drama would be a crime worse than skipping out after sleeping with you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Is it? If I remember correctly, she-who-shall-not-be-named was pretty darn tired of being stuck between you and her family.” Paul raised a brow. “And then you dumped her.”
“I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“I didn’t say you did the wrong thing. But don’t you think Gracie might be worried that she’ll go out on a limb only for you to bail when it gets too hard.”
Des could only imagine his face looked like a gaping fish in that moment. His younger brother—lady-killer extraordinaire—had given him a precious insight into Gracie’s mind that he hadn’t even considered.
“I know you don’t agree with the way I do things, but I’ve learned a thing or two about women. Any time they do something, it’s not for the reason you think.” Paul tilted his chin up and drew his lips into a smug smile. “Their logic is something you can’t even comprehend.”
Could he be right? Gracie had called a few times since the day he’d ordered her out of his house, and he’d ignored each one. Maybe he should have heard her out, listened to her reasons. Instead he’d been so blinded by desire to avoid the past that he’d assumed the worst.
“You need to make a decision one way or the other.” Paul started clearing the empty glasses from the bar. “You can’t keep driving everyone crazy by staying in limbo.”
The thought of letting Gracie go for good made him want to hurl something at the wall. She had a grip on him that he couldn’t shake. The memory of her soft lips and beautiful smile haunted him no matter whether he was waking or sleeping.
He couldn’t do it.
“Let go or go for it? Make a decision now before I stage a formal intervention.”
Des sucked in a breath. Paul was basically asking him whether he wanted to follow his head—the proper one, the logical one—or his heart.
“Tick tock, Bro.”
“Going for it.” As he said the words, it was as if something lifted from him—call it a dark cloud, a heavy weight. Whatever.
He felt free as a goddamn bird.
“Go.” Paul shoved him towards the door. “Good luck.”
…
Should he call? Des sat in the driver’s seat of his car and toyed with his phone. The house in front of him was intimidating in all its old-money glory. He looked down and caught sight of his ripped jeans and worn sneakers.
It would have to do. This was who he was—jeans and two-day growth, tatts and T-shirts. He loved getting his hands dirty, he loved tinkering with his car and watching sports and camping at the beach. He loved his Ma even though she always got the words “kitchen” and “chicken” mixed up. He wanted a simple life of home cooked food and hot sex. No frills, no fuss. Maybe a few bambinos running around.
If she couldn’t accept that… Well, he’d have to move on.
He stepped out of the car and started up towards the house, though calling it a house would have been a massive understatement. He knew she’d be here. Weekly lunches were a Greene family tradition, one she’d moaned about on multiple occasions.
He’d dropped her here one time, after a date had been cut short by a frantic call from her mother. It only ever happened the once and she’d been so distraught that he couldn’t possibly let her go on public transport. It wasn’t long after her father passed away. He hadn’t known her very well back then, but he’d liked her straight away.
Des hovered at the front door, his hand inches from the doorbell. Letting it go or going for it? Paul’s words echoed in his mind and he pressed the button quickly, before he changed his mind.
The doorbell chimed an intricate melody inside the house. Even the Greene’s doorbell was high-end. Footsteps sounded inside and the door swung open.
“Hello?” A blond woman peered at him curiously.
While the coloring was totally different, Des guessed immediately that she was Gracie’s older sister. They had the same sweet smile and heart-shaped face, the same petite features.
“You must be here for Gracie,” she said with a knowing smile.
“Des.” He stuck out his hand and she accepted it readily.
“I’m Emmaline.” She held the door open for him and motioned for him to follow. “Gracie didn’t mention you were coming to lunch.”
He stepped through the door and tried to block out the expensive surroundings. The scent of fresh flowers filled the house, the clink of cutlery came from the next room. Low voices talked. It sounded like an intimate group.
“It wasn’t planned and I don’t have an invitation.” He watched Emmaline’s face, waiting for her to challenge his presence, but instead she shrugged.
“No need to worry about that.” A gentle hand landed on his arm. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
He swallowed, heart pounding as they walked through the near silent house. The place was like a museum—filled with old things that probably never got used, though the place was clean as a hospital.
“Who was it?” A voice demanded as they stepped into the dining room. “Who are you?”
The woman’s sharp tone threw him straight back into the past and her eyes raked over him as though he were a bug to be picked from her clothing. Gracie sat to her left, her dark hair pinned loosely on her head. Her eyes widened and she looked from her mother to Des and back again.
He opened his mouth to speak but Gracie stood.
“Mother, this is Desmond Chapman.” Her hand fluttered by her side, smoothing the fabric on her dress.
“Mrs. Greene.” He stuck his hand out and the older woman looked at him for a moment before accepting.
“Perhaps we should take this outside.” Gracie went to move but Emmaline forced her back down into her seat.
“I’m sure whatever Desmond wants to say will be relevant to everyone here,” Emmaline said, giving her mother a stern look.
He cleared his throat. “I came here to let you know that Gracie has been living a lie.”
Three sets of eyes locked onto him with the same cautious gaze. Gracie tilted her head and fidgeted with a cloth napkin.
“She’s an amazing girl who’s been putting herself into a box that doesn’t fit her. She’s been chasing a dream that isn’t hers. She’s been trying to find something by looking in all the wrong places.”