The NYCE Girls!

by Raquel Belle

  That sends her into a flustered state and I almost roll my eyes. Does the girl ever just relax? “I’m so sorry, Mr. Parker. I’m not staring because...it’s not what you think—”

  “I wasn’t thinking anything.” I try to smile to put her at ease but I fail miserably. I haven’t smiled since Grace stormed out last week. “Why don’t you just take a breath and tell me what’s on your mind?”

  “I don’t want to say something to offend you. I don’t want you to report me.”

  “I won’t. Obviously there’s something important you have to say. Whatever you’ve heard or seen, I’m not a complete asshole, I promise.”

  A ghost of a smile appears and her shoulders visibly relax. “You have been pretty...terse. And it makes me nervous.”

  My brows shoot up but I stay quiet.

  “I can’t do things the way your previous assistant—”

  “She’s still my assistant. She’s just taking time off,” I say a bit too defensively. I quickly calm myself before I snap at Penny again and send her scurrying. She’s a jumpy one.

  “Of course. I just mean, you expect me to do everything the way she does, and I can’t. When you get angry because I don’t do that, I get...anxious I guess…and mess things up.”

  Staring at Penny, I think back at how I’ve been behaving the past week, and admittedly, I’ve been a tyrant. “I’m sorry if I’ve made your time here difficult. I like things done a certain way, but it’s unfair of me to expect you to catch on so quickly. We have one more week left, let’s try to end things on a good note.”

  Penny blinks as if surprised by my response. “O-okay. I appreciate your apology. I’ll do better.”

  “Great. Let’s start with my schedule for next week. I think everything is already set, just go through Grace’s files and send it to me.” I’ve never asked Grace to send me my calendar before because she’s always had everything committed to memory. I’ve often wondered what need she had to write anything down—considering her freakishly organized brain. Every now and then she sent it to me though.

  “I can do that,” Penny chirps and makes her way out with a new pep in her step. Before she closes the door, she smiles, “We can totally make this work. Thanks again, Mr. Parker. I honestly wasn’t expecting you to be so...nice.”

  Her last comment amuses me to no end. I don’t intentionally go around looking to scare anyone… it just happens. Poor kid, I’ve traumatized her for an entire week. Shame on me—I know that’s what Grace would say. Grace. Every other thought is of her. Sighing heavily, I open the email Penny sends me with Grace’s schedule attached.

  I laugh out loud when I see the document. It’s as colorful as she is, with bold fonts and brightly colored squares. “Whose schedule looks like this?” I scan through the fields stamped with meetings, events, phone calls to be made and so on. The bright yellow square under next Saturday catches my attention because Saturday is her birthday. She has it labeled: Spoil Grace Rotten Day. That elicits more laughter. I’m pretty sure she intended to send me this on Friday with that particular section enlarged to make sure I remembered her special day. As if I’d ever forget her birthday. I’ll forget everyone else’s―even my own―but I always remember hers.

  My amusement seeps away when I remember that I won’t be spoiling Grace rotten on Saturday—or ever—because things will never be the same between us. I’ve been tempted to call her so many times in the last week but I resisted. Looking around my office, my misery mounts.

  There are small objects of sentiment scattered all over my workspace—gifts from Grace. Some of them given on special occasions and some of them just for laughs. The office hasn’t felt the same since she left. My life hasn’t been the same. I feel like I’m going through a divorce rather than having a dispute with my employee. It’s insane. I have no peace here or at home because everywhere I look, I’m reminded of Grace. She had a hand in decorating everything. Her mark is on every facet of my life.

  “For goodness sake, she’s just taking time off.” I’m acting like I’ll never see her again. One more week and she’ll be back. But, we’ll be different. I gaze with longing at the corner of my desk where she always sits. Most likely that won’t be a thing anymore. The camaraderie between us won’t be present. She probably hates me now. That look of betrayal on her face before she left will haunt me for eternity.

  With a deep sigh, I push my laptop away. There’s no point in trying to work on anything. All I can think about is whether I should call Grace or give her time, and how I’m going to fix things—fix us—when she gets back. What the hell am I going to say to her? An apology just doesn’t seem like enough. Our last moment together keeps replaying in my head. “I can’t believe I threatened to take her to court.” Can I be any more stupid? Resting my head on the back of my chair I groan, wishing I could take everything back.

  The phone ringing has me sitting up abruptly and straightening my jacket and tie. “Yes, Penny?” My words come out clipped because I want to be alone in complete silence so that I can wallow in my misery.

  “Mr. Parker, there’s someone here to see you.”

  My eyes swivel to my laptop screen. There’s no meeting scheduled for this time on Grace’s calendar. “Who is it?”

  “A Ms.—”

  “Tell him Cara is here and he’s going to see me,” comes the stern, female voice cutting off Penny’s.

  Cara Conley, on the warpath—probably here to castrate me for hurting her best friend. I totally deserve it. “Send her in,” I grumble.

  Seconds later the door opens and Cara steps in, cool and confident, every inch the steel-spined attorney I know her to be. She doesn’t smile or blink, she just stares at me, coldly. Christ, I’m looking at the female version of myself. It’s eerie.

  “Parker,” she greets, locking the door.

  “Conley,” I return, shoving back the smile threatening to emerge. I feel like she’s here to murder me and it’s oddly amusing. I’ve known Cara for years through our law and business circles, but I’ve never had the pleasure—or the misfortune—of going up against her in court. I went corporate before that could ever happen. She’d definitely give me a run for my money. “Are we going to glare at each other all day? I’m sure that’s not why you’re here.”

  “I’m reveling in the imagery of decking you in the face, give me a minute.”

  My brows shoot up. The balls on this woman. I eye her with grudging respect. “I’m afraid I’d have to sue you for assault if you try. Just out of principle, you understand,” I say, jokingly.

  “I know, that’s why I can only imagine it.” After a beat of silence, she announces, “I’m done now. Can I have a seat?”

  Chuckling, I gesture to a chair, “Please.” She settles in the chair wearing a ghost of a smile.

  “How are you, Nick?”

  “Miserable.”

  “Good.”

  I blink. Yup, I deserved that. “How are you?”

  “I’d be so much better if I could throttle you.”

  “You know Cara, making threats is dangerous in a lawyer’s office.”

  “I know you won’t do anything about it and risk having Grace anymore furious with you than she already is.” Her smugness makes me snort.

  “True.”

  Finally, she laughs. “Look, Nick, I’m here because I like you—I really do. I want to see both you and Grace happy. Together.”

  No longer amused, I sit up and glower at her. “Together, huh? Were you the one who put these ideas into Grace’s head? Because she and I were perfectly happy for four years. Did you start telling her that she deserves more and that she should demand it from me? Did you tell her to leave me if I couldn’t give her a serious relationship?”

  Her laughter ignites my fury. “Get a hold of yourself and be rational, Nick. You know damn well neither I nor anyone else had anything to do with what happened. And Grace didn’t leave you. You were never together.”

  Right. I keep twisting that particular detail.


  “Sounds to me like you might be expressing your own guilt. You know Grace deserves more yet you won’t give it to her. Tell me, how crazy has the guilt been driving you?”

  I glare at her, readying myself to argue, but in the end, I give in and accept the truth. “To the brink of insanity,” I confess. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I went there—accusing you of influencing Grace’s actions.” It’s an insult to Grace. She’s always had a mind of her own—and she’s more stubborn than I am when she sets her mind to something.

  “It’s okay. I get it. You’re angry, frustrated...scared even?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “Typical male swagger,” she grins. “Well, you’d better swallow your pride if you want to fix things with Grace. Just admit that you love her, you idiot. The world won’t end if you say the words out loud. Everyone sees it, but Grace refuses to believe it unless she hears it from you.”

  “Everyone?”

  “I hate to break it to you, Nick, but yes. We all know you’re in love with Grace and have been for a while. Actions speak louder than words my friend.”

  I open my mouth to deny it, but hell, why bother? She’s right. I’ve deluded myself into thinking there’s no way I could be in love with Grace simply because I didn’t want to lose her. In my experience, that’s what love does—destroys, brings misery, drives people away...it even brings death. “I shouldn’t have ditched those therapy sessions they tried to force on me as a kid,” I grumble. I would have been better off on the emotional side…and I wouldn’t have pushed Grace away.

  Cara’s laughter rings in my office and I actually smile. “I guess that’s you coming to your senses.”

  “You could say that. So what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

  With her handbag over her shoulder, Cara springs up. “Figure it out, Parker. You’re a smart guy. My job here is done. I’ve got to get back to work.” Strolling to the door, she snaps her fingers. “Get on it, Parker. Chop, chop! Times a-wasting. Go get the girl.”

  I send her an annoyed frown. I’d love to. But how do I go about doing that after the way I behaved? “Before you go, tell me, should I expect Beth and Jasmine to barge in here and threaten me too?”

  “It would serve you right,” she snorts. “But, I doubt it. They’re much nicer than I am.”

  As hard as I try to stop it, my lips still lift into a grin “You’re not so bad. Thank you, Cara, you’re a good friend.”

  “I know, right?” she sings and bounces out of my office, humming off-key, reminding me of Grace. I see now, the slightest similarity in their personalities. I’d always thought they were polar opposites.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Grace

  Dragging myself down the stairs, I blindly make my way to the kitchen. I’m still half asleep but I don’t need to see where I’m going. I can navigate my way around my cozy, two-story childhood home blindfolded. Smothering a yawn, I round the corner. “Need. Coffee. Now.”

  I didn’t sleep much last night—or any other night for the nearly two weeks I’ve been home. Thank God for great friends who never complain when they have to stay up for hours with me on video calls. The girls have been taking turns keeping me company just about every night. Last night was Beth’s turn. We stayed up most of the night and I did what little I could to help with one of her articles.

  It was a great distraction. Now I’m back to being miserable. Will the despair never end? I feel even more horrible because Nick hasn’t even called. Not once. Each time I think about it, I feel like a fool with a capital F. Why do I expect him to call? We’re probably no longer friends in his eyes. We’re really just employee and employer now. With a sigh, I aim for the coffee machine.

  “Surprise!”

  My heart drops to my stomach and then shoots back up to my chest cavity as I wheel around with a scream. I almost grab one of the knives on the counter but I recognize the voice in time. “What the f...dad!” My terror fades and my vision clears. I’m now fully awake.

  The kitchen is filled with balloons and there’s a huge cake on the table with Happy Birthday Grace iced on top. There are also two huge lit candles in the middle—in the shapes of three and zero. My heart plummets again. It’s my birthday and I’m thirty. I want to burst into tears right now, but I fight it.

  “I told you she’d hate this,” comes a deep voice from one corner. It’s Dante, my brother. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms folded and his hazel irises twinkling with amusement, looking as handsome and suave as ever.

  “Dante, you’re here.” Unlike our older brother, Lucas, Dante doesn’t live in Long Island and has no hand in the family business. He and I have always been the most alike. Like me, he’s a free spirit and he left home to spread his wings. Momentarily forgetting my despair, I launch myself at him for a hug. “When did you get here?”

  “This morning. Heard we were having a party. Happy birthday, short stuff.” He ruffles my hair and I bat his hand away with a scowl.

  “It’s not a party,” Lucas says, snaking an arm around my shoulder. He smiles down at me and I’m amazed by how much he looks like dad, with his black hair and green eyes—identical to my own. Lucas is the younger image of Dad and he often acts like my parent. It used to drive me nuts as a kid. He’s dressed for work but he’s much cleaner than usual, which means he hasn’t really dived into fixing any vehicles yet. “It’s just us and cake.”

  “And me.” Isabelle, Lucas’ heavily pregnant wife waddles in and I dash over to her to kiss her on the cheek. She towers over me by quite a few inches so I have to stand on the tips of my toes.

  “Thank God, more estrogen.”

  Shoving her bone straight, raven hair out of her face, she giggles. God, she and my brother are going to have one great looking kid—hopefully a niece that I can spoil rotten and take shopping every weekend. Her baby bump sends a pang of longing through me. I want what Isabelle and Lucas have. Love, marriage, kids.

  “Happy birthday,” she sings. “I told them a party was out of the question but I couldn’t stop this,” she waves her hands around the kitchen. “I tried but they insisted.”

  “Thanks for the effort.”

  “Dad and Lucas insisted,” Dante clarifies. “I knew you wouldn’t want the fuss.”

  Usually, I would. But not this year. They all know I’m not in the best place, even Dante, who wasn’t here to see what a mess I was on arrival. I did speak with him over the phone so he has an idea about the state of my misery.

  “Do you really not like the cake, Gracie?”

  My Dad is scowling at the cake now as if it’s suddenly become the enemy. “No, Dad, I love it. It’s just—”

  “We’re reminding her that she’s getting older,” Dante says with a grin.

  “Screw you,” I throw back, sticking out my tongue.

  “That’s bullshit,” Dad growls. “You’re still my little princess.” He plucks the candles out of the cake and throws them into the trash. He then proceeds to smooth the smudged icing with a finger. “There. Is that better?”

  I almost reprimand him for touching the cake without washing his hands, but I don’t bother. I grew up with dad and my brothers doing things like that—things that most women would frown upon. So I just laugh. The gesture is really sweet. Planting a kiss on his cheek, I say, “It’s perfect. Thank you, Dad.”

  “Happy birthday sweetheart.” He beams and that truly makes me happy. He’s always been terrified about raising a girl on his own—the poor guy. I’ve always tried to make it easier for him in any way I could.

  “The cake looks delicious. Let’s dig in, but I really need some caffeine too.”

  “Coffee and cake for breakfast. Sounds like the Petersons to me,” Lucas says clapping his hands. “I’ll put that coffee on, birthday girl.”

  My laughter fills the kitchen and it sounds and feels so good. “We’ve had some interesting menus over the years, haven’t we? Until I was old enough and learned my way a
round the kitchen, that is.”

  “Yeah, then we finally started eating like real humans. Ouch!” Dante rubs the back of his head with a scowl after Dad claps him—he got a lot of that as a kid and nothing’s changed. I purse my lips to suppress my laughter.

  “My cooking skills weren’t that bad,” he huffs.

  “They kind of were dad,” I break it to him with a frown. All he does is scowl and shovel cake into his mouth.

  “Oh, so she doesn’t get a clap to the back of the head? The unfairness,” Dante pouts.

  “Shut up, Dante. She’s our little princess,” Lucas winks at me and I grin.

  “The perks of being the only girl, huh?” Isabelle whispers.

  “Yup. I’ll never stop loving being spoiled.”

  The rest of the morning is filled with chatter and laughter. No one asks about what really happened in Manhattan to send me home in such a low mood…and I appreciate that. Eventually, the small party breaks up. Lucas announces that he’s getting back to work—the garage is just a few minute’s drive away. Isabelle heads out with him after a quick hug and a “see you later.”

  Dante claims that he’s going to pay old friends a visit since he’s in town. That’s code for he’s going to see which of his ex-girlfriends are still single and ready for some no-strings-attached fooling around―I know my brother well.

  It’s just Dad and I left, sitting in the kitchen. Shoveling cake into my mouth and washing it down with a gulp of coffee, I ask, “Are you going to do any work today? You’re healing well, right?”

  Dad studies his injured fingers and nods. “I am healing, almost back to normal. Maybe I’ll help Lucas out with the light stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  He lifts a brow that’s now peppered with gray. “Now that it’s just us, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been moping around the house for two weeks. Did you break up with a boyfriend or something?”

  I feel myself flush. My face must look like a tomato. “You know it’s weird talking about this stuff with you.”

  “I know, I’m a guy.”