“Damn.” He tapped a finger on the table. “That’s kind of harsh.”
She shifted in the booth, uncomfortable. “Yeah. Pretty much. He ended up calling me out on it, after I kind of forgot our anniversary. One year. And I forgot.”
“Shit, that’s got to be awkward.”
“It was. Especially when he asked me if I loved him, and I couldn’t answer him. I mean, I could, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. That’s when he broke up with me.”
He seemed to mull that over. “Sounds like you didn’t really want to be with him.”
“I don’t think I did.”
“Then why were you?”
“Honest? God. This is embarrassing to admit, but I didn’t want to be alone and I wanted to be . . . normal. Like everyone else was hooking up or in a relationship and there I was, sitting around like a dork.”
“And you didn’t go out with other people?” he asked and when she shook her head, disbelief crept into his face. “Hooked up?”
This conversation just kept getting worse and worse. How could she explain that she had been scared to go out and experiment? To let loose and have fun? Or that it was more than that and even hard for her to understand? Nikki couldn’t just hook up. God, she wished she could. It sounded fun and freeing and normal by societal standards, but she had to be into someone on a deeper level to want to have sex with them. Hookups usually didn’t allow for that. “This is such an awkward conversation. Seriously.”
“If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”
“Shut up.”
He was leaning forward again. “You guys—”
“Are you seriously asking if Calvin and I had sex?” she asked, voice low.
He tilted his head. “Yes. I was going to say fuck, but having sex sounds more . . . tame.”
Nikki flushed to the roots of her hair. “Not like that’s any of your business, but yeah, we did.”
His eyes latched onto hers. “Was he the only person besides me?”
“Oh my God.” She pressed back against the booth. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this question. I honestly cannot believe it.”
“Well, believe it, because I am. Have you slept with anyone else?”
Nikki gaped at him. “I am not answering that question.”
One side of his lips kicked up. “And why not?”
“You seriously don’t know why?” Popping forward in her seat, she gripped the edge of the table. “Okay. I’m done talking about me. Let’s talk about you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Whatever happened between you and that chick you dated when you were in college? The one you were in love with?” She watched him pull back, satisfied and annoyed. “What was her name? Emma?”
His expression hardened. “We’re not talking about that.”
The annoyance was now outweighing the satisfaction of putting him in his place. “Well, now you know how it feels to be on the receiving end of those kinds of questions.”
“It’s different.”
“Really?” She cocked her head to the side. “How so?”
“Because I loved her and you didn’t love this guy.”
Nikki sucked in a sharp breath. There. He said what she always suspected about the girl he dated in college. He had loved her. And because she was a grade-A idiot, she asked, “Do you still love her?”
Gabe looked away, his shoulders tense. A heartbeat passed, and something . . . something inside of Nikki, near the vicinity of her useless heart, cracked a little, and that was insane, because it proved that he still held a place there.
“I will always love her.”
The lunch had fallen apart after that.
Neither of them really said much of anything and the walk back was about as fucking awkward as a damn monkey trying to fuck a football.
Gabe couldn’t believe she brought up Emma.
Hell, his brothers knew better than to go there. Well, except Lucian, but he knew when to shut the hell up about her.
But Nic?
She’d flat out asked him the one question that not even Lucian had the balls to ask. She may not know his whole history with Emma, but Nic was observant. She saw enough to know that was a no-go with him.
And fuck him if he hadn’t answered it honestly.
What he said was true. A part of him would always love Emma and that fact ate at him—had been eating at him for years.
Unable to sit and work like he planned, he left Nic at the workshop, got in his car, and drove. Without realizing it, he found himself pulling into Metairie Cemetery. Parking alongside the manicured green lawns, he climbed out and started walking, making his way past the famous pyramid as a light breeze stirred the trees above, sending leaves floating to the ground.
He wasn’t alone.
People strolled past him. Some were tourists. Others were there visiting tombs of their loved ones. Cemeteries were a big deal in New Orleans. They were old, but even the newer ones were busy. There were always people dying, always people grieving. A lot of money was spent on the dead.
Gabe cut between a row of tombs. Up ahead, he saw the tall mausoleum, guarded by not one but two weeping angels.
Back in the day, the de Vincents used the crypt that was on the back of the property, nearer the swamp. He wasn’t sure why the family started burying people at Metairie. Probably because the family crypt on their property couldn’t keep up with all the deaths.
This was where his grandmother was buried, along with several aunts and uncles. The man that raised him, the man he always believed was his father, was here, along with his mother.
And after Madeline, his sister, had died, for real this time, she had been interred privately. An endeavor that had cost Dev a lot of money to keep quiet.
Madeline would’ve killed him—killed all of them—but she was still family. Fucked-up family, but family nonetheless. She hadn’t been placed next to their mother.
Hell no.
Gabe stepped to the side and sat down on the bench. Squinting in the sunlight, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he hit Call and lifted the phone to his ear.
Samuel Rothchild answered on the third ring, and like always, the man was as blunt as a fingernail. “You said you’d give us three months. You’re just now coming up on a month.”
Felt longer than that. “I’m not going back on the promise I made you.”
There was a beat of silence. “Then why are you calling, Gabriel?”
His jaw hardened as he closed his eyes. “I wanted to check and see how everyone is doing.”
“Everyone is fine,” was the clipped response.
Gabe sighed. “I know you don’t like me and I know you’re worried about what I’m going to do. I get that. But I have a right to make this phone call. I have the right to a lot more, Samuel.”
“Five years, Gabriel.”
“Yeah, five years of me not having a single clue.” Irritation filled his tone as he opened his eyes. “You can’t forget that. You can’t put that on me. If I’d known, I’d have been there five years ago.”
There was another pause of silence. “I know. That’s what scares us.”
Jaw working, he shook his head as he lifted his gaze to the clouds slowly drifting across the sky. “How is he?”
There was a heavy sigh. “He’s doing good. Has a bit of a cold, but nothing serious.”
Gabe’s hand tightened on his phone. “Shit. You’re sure it’s just a cold?”
“Just a cold.” Samuel’s voice softened a bit. “He was asking about you. Wanted to know when you were coming back.”
That was a damn sucker punch to his chest. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him you had business to attend to, but you would be back,” he replied. “Didn’t lie to him.”
“Thank you.” There was so much he wanted to say, but pressure clamped down on his chest, shutting off those words, leaving the only thing he co
uld say. “Take care of my son, Samuel.”
Chapter 17
Gabe knew she was probably expecting things to be awkward between them after their lunch, and he couldn’t blame her, especially how it ended, but when he saw her on Monday, he made it a point to not act like a jackass.
Seemed to work, because even though she was a little stiff around him at first, she loosened up and relaxed.
The smoothie and chocolate chip cookie he brought her probably helped smooth things over.
And when she mentioned that she was thinking about going to the workshop in the evening, after work, he’d been . . . interested in hearing that. With a busy afternoon, he wasn’t able to get to the shop himself until after dinner. It conveniently worked out.
So there they sat Tuesday evening, working almost side by side as the traffic from outside hummed in the background.
Gabe had new orders to work on. One being a wine rack to match a cabinet he’d done for the governor a few years back. While that was a smaller piece, it required more time due to the design. He’d cut the frame yesterday and pieced it together.
“How’s your mother doing?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t asked about her in a bit.
Nic looked up from where she sat cross-legged on the floor instead of at the desk. He kind of liked that about her. “She’s doing okay, but . . .” She drew in a deep breath as she stared down at the bead she was working on. “She’s really worn out. The treatment is taking a lot out of her.”
Concern for the woman who was basically a second mom to him rose. “She’s a really strong woman, though.”
“I know, but I don’t think it matters how strong anyone is.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Her white cell count dropped and they had to give her a booster shot before they could continue with the chemo.”
“Did the shot work?”
She nodded. “Yeah, it did.”
He could see the worry etched into her face, and he wanted to ease some of her concern, but he knew that all he had for her were words. “She’ll be okay.”
Nic peeked up again. “You think so?”
“I do.” Well, he hoped so. He really fucking did.
A smile appeared, and damn, she went from gorgeous to mind-numbingly beautiful in a nanosecond. Nothing about her in that moment reminded him of the Nic who grew up following him around.
Nothing about her reminded him of Emma.
Hell.
He really had no idea where that thought came from, but that’s what made its way through his head.
Nic went back to work on her bead, and companionable silence fell between them as they worked. It had never been like that with anyone. Not even Lucian who often joined him. His brother wasn’t quiet for more than a few minutes at a time, but Nic . . . well, she knew what it was like to get lost in the hum of a saw or the nick of a blade. That was rare.
Could he see himself sitting here with—
He cut himself off and then . . . and then he forced himself to finish that question. Could he see himself sitting here with Emma like this?
No.
Not at all.
Emma was quiet, but it came from an inherent nervousness more than anything else. She liked to mull over everything she’d do or say, so she’d been prone to long stretches of silence. Not the companionable kind like this. Gabe knew that when Emma was quiet, it meant she was thinking hard about something and working up the nerve to discuss it. He used to think that was cute about her. Except toward the end—toward the end it just pissed him off, because he knew she was thinking a lot of shit that had to do with him instead of talking to him.
But with Nic? He knew she was lost in what she was doing at the moment. Whatever was going on in her head was going in and out. She wasn’t over there plotting out an entire conversation that she might get around to bringing up a week from now.
So, yeah, he couldn’t see himself sitting here with Emma, even when things had been good between them.
Gabe had no idea what the hell that meant, but he felt like an ass for how he shut down the conversation about Emma with Nic.
Normally he wouldn’t care. He didn’t talk about Emma, but with Nic, it felt different, wrong not to somehow. Maybe it was because he and Nic shared something as messed up as he’d once shared with Emma.
For the first time in his life, he felt the urge to talk about Emma—to talk to someone about her.
He lowered the rack he was working on. “When we went to lunch, you brought up Emma.”
Nic looked up and the centers of her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. It was—”
“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. That was all me being an ass. Not you.”
She lowered her hands, but didn’t say anything as she stared at him from where she sat.
He drew in a deep breath, his gaze falling to his now-empty hands. “Do you remember Emma? She came home with me one Christmas. You were there one of those days.”
“I remember,” she said after a long moment. “She was really nice.”
“Yeah.” Gabe nodded slowly. “She was. Sometimes too nice. Like you.”
“I don’t think you’d believe I’m ‘too nice’ if you knew what I was thinking about people half the time.”
A wry grin tugged at his mouth. “You’re still nice. Just like Emma. She was . . . she was a good person. To the heart. Anyone who met her couldn’t have a bad thing to say about her. Lucian thought the world of her. Even Dev liked her.”
“Why did you guys break up?” Nic asked. “I mean, it was obvious when you guys were dating, you were in love with her.”
That was a loaded question, one with an answer that he didn’t want resting on Nic’s shoulders. “During our senior year, there was a party. I wasn’t there. Can’t even remember why I didn’t go, but . . . Emma got hurt.”
“What do you mean . . . she got hurt?”
He looked over at her as his hands closed into fists. “A guy she was friends with didn’t understand the word no.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, blanching.
Helpless anger rose in him as he looked away. “She didn’t want to go to the police. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with that decision but I respected her choice. That was her right and I supported it while trying to get her to go to the police, but—” he shook his head “—I confronted him. Things happened, and our relationship fell apart after that.”
He hadn’t heard Nic move, but he sensed that she was closer, and when he looked up, she was now sitting down on the dusty floor beside him. Those doe-eyes were heavy and somber. “I cannot even imagine what she was going through,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Gabe’s gaze flickered over her face. “I couldn’t either. I tried, and I think—no, I know I made things worse when I did try.”
Her head tilted to the side as she placed a hand on his arm. “There’s not a manual for how to handle these kinds of things, Gabe. You can’t be too hard on yourself.”
He laughed, but it was harsh and brittle. If she only knew what he and his brothers had done, she would be singing another tune. Hell, she wouldn’t want to be in the same room with him let alone touching him.
“So, that’s why you guys broke up?” She squeezed his arm, and the touch, well, it was supposed to be comforting but it sent mixed sensations through him.
Clearing this throat, he nodded. “We did. Fucking killed me. I loved her, but she needed space and I think I did, too. In the back of my head, I always figured we’d come back together. I mean, when you love someone and they love you, things just find a way to work, right?”
“Right,” she whispered, pulling her hand away as she settled on her knees.
He dragged a hand over his head, loosening the strands he had pulled back. “About five years ago, I was at this charity event. Didn’t even want to go, but Lucian connived me into it.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “And there she was. Years later, there she was.”
“What happened?”
The best and the worst thing, he supposed. “We got caught up, you know? Talked and ended up spending the whole weekend together, but she had her own life in Baton Rouge and I had mine.”
Something flickered across her face. “Baton Rouge?”
“Yeah, anyway. That was it.” He rose, picking up one of his tools and walking it over to the table. “We had a weekend, and I never heard from her again. Tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. Obviously, she didn’t want me back in her life. That was a bitter fucking pill to swallow, because that weekend proved that I still loved her.” He tossed the tool on the table. “And then my phone rang three months ago.”
Nic was quiet, so quiet that he turned to her. She wasn’t watching him, but staring into the space he’d been sitting in. She was so incredibly still.
“It wasn’t her,” he said. Her head turned and her eyes met his. “It was her father. Emma had been in a car accident and it was bad. She was in a coma and they . . . they thought I should know.”
Nic placed her hand to her mouth.
“I went up there. She was in the hospital, in that bed, and it didn’t even look like her.” His stomach filled with acid. “As I sat beside her, while she was in the damn bed, all I could think about was everything I never told her. I thought about how I’d made things worse when she was at her most vulnerable. I sat there hating myself and . . . fuck, hating her for never returning my call, because there weren’t going to be any more chances.”
Truth was, he’d already known that before he’d gotten that call. Could they have gotten back together? Who knew, but it was unlikely. Not when he learned about the secret she’d been keeping from him.
Some things could be forgiven.
Some things couldn’t.
“She was in a coma when I got there, and . . .” He exhaled roughly, rubbing at the center of his chest with the palm of his hand. “There was no brain activity. So many tests were done. None of them gave a glimmer of good news or hope. She was gone, and her parents were left with the decision to pull her off life support. They did it about a week after I went up there.”
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