by Sylvia Day
“Yeah.” He tried looking innocent, too. I had to hope I pulled it off better than he did. “You know I’m not above taking a pity fuck, right? So thanks for hooking me up.”
I gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder. “You’re full of shit.”
Something had shifted for Cary in the last few weeks. He hadn’t turned to his usual self-destructive coping mechanisms and since things were going good for him without them, I was holding out hope that he wouldn’t backslide.
“True.” He flashed his brilliant grin and it was genuine, rather than the cocky façade I knew too well. “Although banging Trey is certainly something tempting to think about. Figure it’s probably tempting for him, too, so I should use that to my advantage.”
“Are you going to see each other?”
He nodded. “He’s going to come with me to the memorial at Stanton’s on Monday.”
“Oh.” I sighed, hurting. Clancy had called Gideon and passed on that information earlier in the morning.
Should I have tried to handle the memorial myself and spare Stanton? I just didn’t know. I was still trying to accept the fact that my mom was really gone. After I’d cried for hours the night before, heavy guilt had settled in. There were so many things I’d said to my mother that I regretted and could no longer take back, so many times I’d thought of her with frustration and disrespect.
Ironic, in retrospect, that her chief fault was loving me too much.
As my stepfather had loved her—inordinately.
“I’ve tried calling Stanton,” I said, “but I just get his voice mail.”
“Me, too.” Cary rubbed at his unshaven jaw. “I hope he’s okay, but I realize he’s probably not.”
“I think it might be a while before any of us are okay.”
We settled into comfortable silence for a moment. Then Cary spoke. “I was talking to your dad this morning, before we headed to the airport, about his plans to move to New York.”
My nose wrinkled. “I would love to have him near, but I can’t help thinking how bizarre it would be if he worked for Gideon.”
He nodded slowly. “You have a point.”
“What do you think?”
He shifted his body to face me. “Well, just the pregnancy part of having a kid has changed my life, right? So, multiply that by twenty-four years in your case, and I’d say a loving parent would do just about anything to make things better for their child.”
Yep, something had definitely shifted for Cary. Sometimes, you just needed a hard jolt to bump you in the right direction. For Cary, that was the thought of being a father. For me, it had been meeting Gideon. And for Gideon, it had been the possibility of losing me.
“Anyway,” Cary went on, “he was saying that Gideon offered him a housing allowance and he was thinking he’d like to stay in the apartment with me.”
“Wow. Okay.” There was a lot to process there. One, my dad was obviously taking the idea of working for Gideon in New York seriously. Two, my best friend was thinking about living separately from me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “I’d been worried Dad would have a hard time using that room after him and my mom … you know.”
I didn’t think I could stay in the penthouse if I didn’t have Gideon. Too much had happened between us there. I didn’t know if I could handle remembering what I no longer had.
“Yeah, I’d wondered about that, too.” Cary reached out and touched my shoulder, a simple comforting touch. “But you know, memories are all that Victor has ever really had of Monica.”
I nodded. My dad had to have wondered more than once over the years if the love had always been one-sided. After that afternoon with my mom, maybe he realized that wasn’t true. That’d be a good memory to hold on to.
“So you’re thinking about staying there,” I said. “Mom told me she’d offered you that option.”
He gave me a smile tinged with melancholy. “I’m considering it, yes. Kinda makes it easier if your dad’s going to be there, too. I warned him it was likely there’d be a baby around now and then. I got the impression he might like that.”
Looking back into the house, I saw my dad making silly faces to amuse my baby cousin. He was the only one of his siblings to have just one child, and I was an adult.
I frowned as I watched Gideon walk to the front entrance. Where was he going with an apron tied around his denim-clad hips? He opened the front door and stood unmoving for a long minute. I realized someone must have knocked, but I couldn’t see because Gideon was blocking my view. Finally, he stepped aside.
Cary looked over to see where my attention was and scowled. “What’s he doing here?”
As Gideon’s brother walked in, I wondered the same thing. Then Ireland appeared behind him, holding a gift bag.
“What’s up with the gift?” Cary asked. “An unreturnable wedding present?”
“No.” I noticed the design on the bag, which was definitely too colorful and festive for a wedding. “It’s a birthday present.”
“Oh, shit,” Cary muttered. “I totally forgot about that.”
When Gideon closed the door without his mother making an appearance, I realized Elizabeth was a no-show on her firstborn’s birthday. A potent mix of sympathy and pain swamped me and caused my fists to clench.
What the fuck was wrong with that woman? Gideon hadn’t heard from his mother since confronting her in his office. Considering what the day was, I couldn’t believe she could be so thoughtless.
It made me realize I wasn’t the only one who’d lost a mother in the past few days.
Chris stood and went to his children, hugging Christopher while Ireland hugged my husband. She smiled up at him, offering the bag. He took it and turned, gesturing toward where I stood on the deck.
Fresh and lovely in a delicately printed sundress, Ireland joined us outside. “Wow, Eva. This place is choice.”
I hugged her. “You like it?”
“What’s not to like?” Ireland hugged Cary, and then her lovely face sobered. “I’m really sorry about your mom, Eva.”
The tears that were no longer very far away stung my eyes. “Thank you.”
“I can’t even imagine,” she said. “And I don’t even like my mom right now.”
Reaching out, I touched her arm. Regardless of how I felt about Elizabeth, I wouldn’t wish the regret I had on anyone, especially Ireland. “I hope you work out whatever it is. If I had my mom back, I’d take back a lot of the things I said and did.”
And because saying that aloud made me feel like crying, I excused myself quickly and headed toward the stairs, running down them to the beach, then out to the water. I stopped when my ankles were submerged, letting the sea breeze blow the tears away.
Closing my eyes, I willed the grief back into the box I’d put it in for the day. It was Gideon’s birthday, an occasion I wanted to celebrate because it’d seen him enter the world and, eventually, my life.
I jumped when warm muscular arms slipped around my waist, gathering me back against a familiar hard body.
Gideon set his chin on the crown of my head. I felt his chest expand and contract on a deep sigh when I wrapped my arms over his.
When I pulled myself together enough to speak, I said, “I’m surprised my nana let you escape.”
He gave a short laugh. “She says I remind her of your dad—well, she reminds me of you.”
Which made it apt, I supposed, that I’d been named after her. “Because I won’t let you out of my greedy clutches?”
“Because even though she scares me, I can’t seem to walk away.”
Touched, I turned my head and rested my cheek against his heart, listening to its strong and steady beat. “I didn’t know your brother and sister were coming.”
“I didn’t, either.”
“How do you feel about Christopher being here?”
I felt him shrug. “If he’s not acting like a dick, I don’t care.”
“Fair enough.” If his brother’s unexpected appearanc
e didn’t trouble Gideon, I wouldn’t let it bother me.
“I’ve got some things to share with you,” he said. “About Christopher. But now’s not the time.”
I opened my mouth to contradict that, but caught myself. Gideon was right. We should have renewed our vows today, surrounded by friends and family. We should be celebrating his birthday and being so joyful there wasn’t any room for sorrows and regrets. Instead, the day was shadowed by sorrow we had to hide. Still, there was no point in adding any more unpleasantness.
“I have something for you,” I told him.
“Umm … I’m tempted, angel, but we have too many people here.”
It took me a beat to understand he was teasing me. “Oh my God. You fiend.”
I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around his gift, which was safely shielded by a black velvet drawstring bag. It had a nice gift box, too, but I’d elected to carry the present in my pocket, hoping to be spontaneous and give it to him when the moment was right. I didn’t want to give it to him along with his other presents.
Turning to face him as I pulled the gift out, I offered it on both open palms. “Happy birthday, ace.”
His gaze lifted from my hands to my face. There was a brightness to his eyes I saw only when I gave him something. It always made me want to give him more, give him everything. My husband so deserved to be happy. It was my life’s mission to make sure he always was.
Gideon took the pouch and untied the drawstring.
“I just want you to know,” I began, trying to cover my nervousness, “that it’s crazy difficult buying a gift for someone who has everything, including a good chunk of the island of Manhattan.”
“I wasn’t expecting anything, but I always love what you give me.”
I blew out my breath. “Well, you may not want to use it, which is totally fine. I mean, don’t feel obligated to—”
The platinum Vacheron Constantin pocket watch slid out into his waiting palm, the polished case twinkling when the sunlight hit it. Biting my lower lip, I waited for him to open it and look inside.
Gideon read the engraved words aloud. “Yours for all time, Eva.”
“It can hold a little picture over the inscription. I’d planned for that to be a photo from the renewal ceremony, but …” I cleared my throat when he looked at me with such love, it made everything flutter inside me. “It’s old school, I know. I just thought, since you wear vests, that it might be something you could use. Although I know you wear a watch on your wrist, so probably not. But—”
He kissed me, shutting me up. “I’ll treasure this. Thank you.”
“Oh.” I licked my lips, tasting him. “I’m glad. There’s a fob that goes with it, in the box.”
Placing the pocket watch carefully into its pouch, he tucked it into his pocket. “I have something for you, too.”
“Keep it clean,” I teased him back. “We’ve got an audience.”
Gideon looked over his shoulder and saw how many of our family members had stepped outside onto the deck. The caterer had stocked the outside kitchen with beverages and easy finger foods, and people were starting to poke through it all while the pork for the posole cooked in the oven.
He held out his fist, then opened it to show me the gorgeous wedding band in his palm. Large round diamonds in a channel setting circled the entire band, shooting multi-hued sparks.
My fingers covered my mouth, my eyes watering all over again. The salt-flavored breeze danced around us, carrying the plaintive cries of seagulls soaring over the waves. The rhythmic surge of the tide against the shore lapped over my feet, anchoring me in the moment.
I reached for the ring with trembling fingers.
Gideon’s hand closed up and he grinned. “Not yet.”
“What?” I pushed at his shoulder. “Don’t tease me!”
“Ah, but I always deliver,” he purred.
I glared at him. The wicked smirk faded.
His fingers brushed over my cheek. “I’m so proud to be your husband,” he said solemnly. “It’s my greatest accomplishment to have been found worthy of that honor in your eyes.”
“Oh, Gideon.” How he dazzled me. I was so overwhelmed by him, so filled by his love. “I’m the lucky one.”
“You’ve changed my life, Eva. And you did the impossible: you transformed me. I like who I am now. I never thought that would happen.”
“You were always wonderful,” I said fervently. “I loved you when I saw you. I love you more now.”
“There aren’t words to tell you what you mean to me.” He opened his hand again. “But I hope that when you see this ring on your hand, you’ll remember that you shine as brightly as diamonds in my life and you’re infinitely more precious.”
Pushing onto my toes, fighting the sinking of the wet sand, I sought out his mouth and nearly sobbed with joy when he kissed me. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He was smiling as he took my hand and slid the ring on my finger, nestling it next to the beautiful Asscher diamond he’d given me at our wedding.
Applause and cheers jolted both of us. We looked at the house and saw our families lined up along the railing, watching us. The children were already running down the stairs, chasing Lucky, who was eager to get to Gideon.
I understood that feeling all too well. For the rest of our lives, I would always run to him.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I let the hope and the joy push the guilt and grief away, just for a moment.
“This is perfect,” I murmured, the words lost in the wind. No dress, no flowers, no formality or ritual. Just Gideon and me, committed to each other, with those who loved us nearby.
Gideon caught me up and spun me, making me laugh with pure pleasure.
“I love you!” I shouted, for all the world to hear.
My husband set me down and kissed me breathless. Then, with his lips to my ear, he whispered, “Crossfire.”
16
It was difficult to watch Eva trying to console Richard Stanton, who was a shell of the man we’d spent the weekend with in Westport. He had been vibrantly alive then, seemingly younger than his years. Now, he looked frail and stooped, his broad shoulders weighted by grief.
A profusion of white flower arrangements covered every available surface in Stanton’s sprawling penthouse living room, heavily perfuming the air. Photos of Monica were sprinkled liberally around the bouquets, showing Eva’s mother in the best moments of her time with Stanton.
Victor sat with Cary and Trey in a smaller area tucked away from the main floor. When we first arrived, there had been a moment when Eva’s father and Stanton stood frozen and staring at each other. I suspected each of them resented what the other man had possessed of Monica: Victor had her love, Stanton had the woman herself.
The doorbell rang. My gaze followed Eva and Martin as they walked together to answer it. Stanton didn’t move from his wingback chair, his thoughts clearly turned inward. I’d felt his pain when he first opened the door to us, his body visibly jerking at the sight of Eva.
It was good that my wife and I were leaving for the airport directly after. For a month, we’d be away from the city and out of the spotlight. Hopefully, by the time we returned, Stanton could bear the sight of the daughter who looked so much like her mother, the woman he’d loved.
“Cross.”
Turning my head, I found Benjamin Clancy. Like Detective Graves, Clancy’s eyes held the knowledge of what I’d done to eliminate Nathan Barker as a threat to my wife. Unlike Graves, Clancy had helped cover up my involvement, staging the scene of the crime and another unrelated scene to cast blame onto a dead man who’d paid for his own crimes with his life and wouldn’t pay further for mine.
My brows rose in silent inquiry.
“I need a minute.” He gestured to the hallway beyond him without waiting for my agreement.
“Lead the way.”
I followed him to a library, taking in the shelves of books that lined the wall
s. The room smelled of leather and paper, the color palette a masculine blend of cognac and evergreen. Four distinct seating areas and a fully stocked bar invited guests to get comfortable and linger.
Clancy shut the door behind us and sat in one of the two club chairs facing the unlit fireplace. I took the other.
He got right to the point. “Mrs. Stanton left behind over twenty-five years’ worth of handwritten journals and a backup computer drive with electronic journal entries. She asked that I pass them along to Eva in the event of her death.”
Keeping my curiosity to myself, I said, “I’ll make sure she gets them.”
He sat forward, setting his elbows on his knees. Ben Clancy was a big man, his biceps and thighs thick with muscle. He wore his dark blond hair in a severe military cut and his eyes had the flat, cold lethality of a great white shark—but they warmed when he looked at Eva, like the loving glance of a very protective older brother.
“You’ll need to judge the best time to give them to her,” he said. “And you may decide she should never see them.”
“I see.” So I’d have to go through them. It made me uncomfortable to think of doing so.
“Regardless,” Clancy went on, “you now have a new financial responsibility that you’ll have to take over on Lauren’s behalf. It’s not inconsiderable, but you won’t have any trouble managing it.”
I’d stiffened at the name he used, then grown more alert as he continued.
Nodding, he said, “You started researching her story after the Tramells died.”
“But you’d cleaned most of it up.” Out of the entire conversation thus far, that was the one thing that made sense.
“What I could. I dug into her past when Mr. Stanton became serious about their relationship. When I confronted her, she told me what I’m about to tell you—none of which is known to Mr. Stanton. I’d like to keep it that way. He was happy. Who she was didn’t affect him, so he doesn’t need to know.”
Whatever it was, Clancy had been swayed. Whether I would be, remained to be seen.
Clancy paused a moment. “You’ll get more out of the journals. I haven’t read them, but Lauren’s story is certainly more compelling than the dry facts I’ll give you.”