What in God’s name had he done?
Even more importantly, if he could somehow drum up the guts, was there any way he could fix it?
Or had he already thrown away the best thing he’d ever had in his life for the second time?
Nine
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Crypinski.” Swallowing hard because she absolutely was not going to cry, Colleen gazed fixedly through one of her living-room windows at the barren display of her garden outside. “This is all my fault. I didn’t want to get up his hopes until I was sure I could make this thing with you happen, so I didn’t take him into my confidence—not that I’m trying to make excuses. And now he’s out there in the dark, all alone, and no doubt convinced I betrayed him.”
Her landlord made a noise that sounded suspiciously like what it was—an unimpressed snort. “You’ve never been a ninny, Colleen, and now is not the time to start. Not only has Brett grown up on some of the toughest streets this city has to offer, but given his proclivity for dropping by here at all hours of the day and night, I can definitely assure you he’s not afraid of the dark.
“As for the other, if he’s got so little character he’d assume the worst without giving you the benefit of the doubt, not to mention a chance to explain yourself, then the young fool deserves whatever happens to him. And as long we’re talking plain, the same goes for that rich, hotshot boyfriend of yours who’s suddenly MIA.”
She stared at the old man in amazement, so stunned by his uncharacteristic outburst she couldn’t think what to say.
Not that he seemed to need prompting. “That’s how I see it, anyway. And don’t think I haven’t seen enough Oprah to know even an old guy like me is entitled to his opinion.”
“Yes, of course you are. I certainly didn’t mean to imply…that is…” Good heavens, she was practically stuttering, trapped between competing urges to laugh and cry.
Not that her companion appeared to notice. “You know what your problem is, missy? You’re like my Edna, God rest her soul, too nice for your own darned good. You’re always trying to take care of somebody, when maybe you ought to be letting that somebody take some care of you part of the time.” Then his ears turned a fiery red as if he just realized how much he’d revealed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my dinner.”
“Yes. Of course.” Trailing in his wake for no good reason except that she wasn’t quite ready to be alone, Colleen followed him toward the door—only to practically leap a foot as the buzzer unexpectedly sounded.
Since he was closer by more than a yard, the building’s owner reached out and pressed the intercom button. “Who is it?”
There was a lengthy pause, and then Brett’s familiar voice said uncertainly, “Mr. C?”
“Well, it’s not Santa Claus.”
“Oh, thank you, God,” Colleen murmured, her hand pressed to her heart.
“Sorry, Mr. C. I must’ve hit the wrong button. Will you let me in? I need to talk to Ms. Barone.”
“You’re right about that,” the older man retorted, hitting the release no more than half a second before he yanked open the apartment door and stepped into the hall. “And that’s not the only person you’re going to be doing some explaining to,” he muttered.
Since Colleen’s only thought at that moment was to make sure with her own eyes that Brett was all right, she followed him out into the corridor.
Only to take a step back as she caught sight of Gavin standing behind Brett like a silent shadow.
“Oh.” She experienced a momentary sense of dislocation, as her emotions seemed to open ranks and split into two different camps.
Part of her was overwhelmed with relief that Brett was all right.
The other part was wholly focused on Gavin, drinking in the sight of him, examining his expression, his stance, the placement of each strand of his hair, doing everything it could to commit his image to memory.
To her dismay, Mr. Crypinski started down the hall toward the entry, bearing down on Brett and leaving her feeling both alone and exposed. “It appears to me that you and I need to have a little talk.”
With complete disregard for the teenager’s yelp of objection, the former transit worker clamped his hand on the boy’s shoulder, spun him around and began propelling him up the stairs toward his own second-story apartment.
Neither Gavin nor Colleen moved. Nor did they utter a sound.
Gavin, however, was having a field day berating himself. She looks pale. And tired, he thought, feeling as if an invisible hand were squeezing his heart. And I’m an idiot.
He took a step forward. “Hey.”
She swallowed, her eyes looking big in her face as she stared at him. “Hey yourself.”
“Are you okay? I mean, I suppose I should’ve called you when Brett showed up at the hotel, but it just sort of slipped my mind. I guess I thought it would be best all around if I simply drove him over.” Not to mention that it gave me an excuse to see you.
“I’m fine. I just…I didn’t expect…I guess I’m surprised to see you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you.” He watched, frowning, as she hugged her arms to herself and rubbed her bare forearms with her palms. “You cold?”
The instant he said it he had a sudden desire to give himself a slap in the forehead. “Yes, of course you are,” he answered himself, shrugging out of his coat as he advanced on her. “Here. Put this around you and let’s get you the hell out of this drafty hall.”
Despite the fierceness of his words, his hands were gentle as he wrapped her in his coat, then turned her around and herded her back into her apartment. “You really ought to hang a sweater on that wall rack by the door,” he admonished, only to curse himself soundly when a quick sideways glance at her face as they awkwardly negotiated her narrow hall revealed that she was biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling.
“Colleen, caraid. Please. Stop looking so sad. I know I’ve been one hell of a giant fool, but I swear if you’ll just give me one more chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, Colleen. As God is my witness, I love you. I always have and I always will, and all I’m asking for is some time to prove it.”
“You…you called me your darling,” she said with a sort of wonder, turning toward him as they reached the relative warmth of her small living room.
“What?”
“Caraid. That’s what it means.”
“Yeah, of course.” He gave a little shrug, not about to admit that its precise meaning was news to him, that all he’d known for sure when he’d said it was that it was an endearment of some sort and the only fit-for-mixed-company Gaelic word in his vocabulary. Besides, whether he’d intended it to or not, it was exactly what she was to him. “Just like I know how they spell the word for stupid in this particular neighborhood.”
A slight frown formed between her brows. “Is it spelled differently here than in the rest of Boston?”
“Oh, yeah. Or maybe not. Beacon Hill or Southie, it’s still spelled O-S-U-L-L-I-V-A-N.”
For the longest time, she gazed up at him, not saying anything, and then one corner of her mouth curved, just for a second. “Oh, Gavin, no. That isn’t true—”
“Don’t argue with me, Colleen. Only the world’s biggest fool would let the only woman in the world meant for him almost get away not just once, but twice.
“I love you, Colleen. And I know we’ve got lots to discuss, lots to work out, but I don’t want to spend another moment of my life without you. Make me the happiest man on the Eastern seaboard. Tell me you’ll marry me.”
Her face lit up, and then his coat slid in a heap to the floor as she raised her hands to cradle his face and he swept her into his arms. “Yes,” she said fiercely, using quick kisses for punctuation. “Yes, yes, yes!”
But it wasn’t until her mouth finally settled against his that Gavin knew everything was going to be all right.
There would be a lot to work out and discuss over the next days, weeks, months
and years.
But as long as they had each other, he knew everything else would be all right.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Caroline Cross for her contribution to the DYNASTIES: THE BARONES series.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8603-4
SLEEPING BEAUTY’S BILLIONAIRE
Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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