Destination Connelly (The Colloway Brothers Book 4)

by K. L. Kreig

  “But what I did, Addy…it’s unforgivable.”

  She smiles like I’m missing something. “Nothing is unforgivable, Nora. You’re human. You made a mistake. You owned up to it. Stop beating yourself up about it and woman up. Do you want Conn? Yes or no?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Then go fucking get him and make him listen to you.” She stares at me, eyebrows quirked in a dare. An hour is barely enough time to get to know someone but what I can pick up about Addy already is that she’s tenacious and full of fire. I like her. Tremendously.

  “Okay. Yes. You’re right.” I want Connelly. It’s time I fight for him.

  Before I lose my courage, I straighten my shoulders, beginning to close the twenty-five feet that separate Connelly and me, wishing it were more. I have no idea what I’m going to say when I just saunter up to him as if I have every right to him. “Hey, fancy seeing you here? Who’s your slut? I mean, date?” I think it will take everything in me not to punch blondie in her pixie face or gouge her eyes until they run with scarlet tears. I hope she has one hell of a major medical plan. She may need to cash in on that bad boy tonight. I’ve never struck another human being in my life, but all I feel is murderous the closer I get to them now that I can hear her high-pitched, fake laugh.

  But my nonplan blows up in my stunned face when I’m within five feet. My skin heats and tightens and I swear I hear the collective gasps of the group I just left as the whole thing unfolds before my watery eyes.

  Time slows—each drawn-out frame dramatically playing out.

  Connelly turns his head.

  The curvaceous seductress cups his face.

  She leans up.

  Shuts her eyes.

  Plants an I’m-as-easy-as-my-dress-makes-me-look kiss on his full lips.

  Which he returns.

  The sand we bury our heads in sometimes is hot and dark and suffocating, but necessary for our emotional survival. Bring on the smothering darkness again, I beg of you.

  Instead of making a beeline for them, I walk right on past and make one toward the door. Damn good thing I had my purse with me. I’m not sure I could have made that walk of shame back to the table to retrieve it.

  Once I step outside, I see no cabs waiting by the curb, so I quickly make my way toward the end of the block, wishing like hell I’d held my ground and told Kamryn I needed to clean grout tonight instead of letting her talk me into coming out.

  I fling my arm in the air, hailing a ride back to the loneliness of my three-bedroom suburban rental when I hear a rumbly male call my name. I look down the street to see Connelly jogging toward me at the same time a yellow cab comes to a screeching halt by my feet, missing my toes by barely an inch.

  Ignoring the loud voice gaining on me, I start to open the back passenger door when it’s slammed shut from behind. Then I’m being spun around and pressed against the cold metal.

  “Where’s Hazel?” Of course. He’s worried about our daughter, not me. The crushing blows keep pounding relentlessly into me.

  “She’s with Mira. Hazel wanted to spend the night with her.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks angrily. He’s angry? He’s the fucking one that’s angry?

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we were sharing our social calendars with each other now. I guess I missed the entry about your little tryst tonight with the golden sprite. My bad,” I bite sarcastically.

  “Nora.” He blows out a frustrated breath. “It’s not what it looked like.”

  “Really? Was she showing you firsthand how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue, then?” I glare at him.

  He looks away guiltily. My anger rushes out of me like a valve that was turned on full blast. I just feel…empty. I hang my head, so damn tired of this emotional roller coaster I’ve been unwillingly riding for the last few weeks. I want off that fucker.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore, Connelly.” I sound defeated. I think I am. I guess I needed a good dose of reality. Well, I got a big healthy, bitter spoonful tonight. I’ll never forget the acrid taste.

  His finger slides under my chin. He forces it up. “What don’t you want to do anymore?”

  “Any of it. I don’t want to do any of this anymore. I’m so tired of it all.”

  “So am I,” he replies flatly. His eyes roam my face. I feel as though he’s cataloging every feature. Everything about his body language says he still wants me, yet he’s so goddamned irritatingly calm. It’s both confusing and exciting.

  “Hey lady,” a foreign voice booms. “You getting in or what?”

  I answer yes at the same time Connelly yells the exact opposite.

  “Don’t you need to get back to your date?”

  I sound like a whiny sixteen-year-old who just caught her boyfriend making out with another girl. Guess I don’t really care.

  “She is not my date.” He enunciates each word. Fingers pinching my bicep, he starts dragging me down the pavement. Away from the bar. Away from my ride. I struggle until I hear tires squeal, indicating the cab has taken off in search of a paying fare. I rip my arm from his hold, unable to stand his touch without wanting it more places than just there.

  “Oh, that’s right. You don’t date. You just fuck,” I spit. Increasing my pace, I scan the street for another cab, needing to get the hell out of here before I say something else I’ll regret. I want off the damn ride, but I don’t know how to make it stop.

  I spot a white cab turning the corner, headed my way. Before I can throw my hand back in the air my back meets a hard, unyielding structure and Connelly’s mouth crashes to mine, swallowing my cry. I try to push him away. He shackles my wrists and pulls them over my head, pinning me against the building with his broad, masculine body. My leg unconsciously finds its way around his thigh, opening me so his arousal nestles perfectly in the V of my body.

  God, how I want him even though I just saw him with another woman.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Nora, Jesus I have missed you.” Wet lips trail along my jaw. His sharp teeth nip my throat, pulling a long, needy moan from me. Next thing I know my hand is in his and we’re walking at a clipped pace once again down the street. I know exactly where we’re headed. This wine bar is just two blocks from Connelly’s building, which made it convenient for me when I left Mira’s.

  We’re silent on the five-minute walk. When we get to the elevator and step in, a female voice calls for us to hold the door. In walks a gorgeous blonde. Her hands are full of groceries and she doesn’t look up when she asks us to push the button for floor eight.

  Connelly tenses, but reaches forward and punches it anyway. The elevator starts to ascend. At that moment, blondie chooses to glance up. When her eyes land on Connelly, they steel, then bounce to me, to our twined hands, and back to Connelly before finally stopping on mine.

  The corner of her lip sneers up. “I hope you brought a snowsuit.”

  “Excuse me?” I stutter.

  “A snowsuit.” She slips her eyes back to Connelly before finishing. “To ward against the frostbite. He’ll fuck you, then fuck you over. He’s as cold as the Antarctic.”

  “Lorna,” he warns on an angry rumble.

  The steel box I’m now suffocating in slows to a stop, the chime indicating we’ve hit the eighth floor. “What?” she challenges with raised, angry brows. “The female race needs to band together against bastards like you.” And with that, she exits without so much as a look back to witness the destruction she’s left behind.

  Of course. Another scorned woman. Two women in one night at that. Jumping into any icy lake in the middle of January in the Antarctica would have felt better than this right here. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking coming back with Connelly. Thinking this could work. Thinking he could be faithful.

  There was no thought. Clearly.

  Connelly will be a great father to Hazel. Seeing them interact and the love he has in his eyes for her, I have no doubt a
bout that now. But that’s all he’ll ever be. Her dad. Not my lover. Not my husband. Not my anything, except a past I’ll have to painfully relive each time I see him.

  I start to reach for the lit panel, my index finger grazing the one for the lobby when Connelly shoves me against the wall and takes my mouth with his. It’s punishing, demanding. A clear statement.

  I want to sink into this. Into him. Into this fantasy I can’t seem to shake. But we will never be because of so many reasons and this back and forth between us is just too damn hard to slog through anymore.

  Everything in me protests the loss of his lips on me when I tear away. Except my brain. She’s the only one thinking clearly. Finally. I try to push him back but it’s like a feather moving Mount Everest. Impossible. “Get away.”

  Powerful muscles keep me pinned while strong hands frame my face. Connelly’s determined eyes bore into me. His chest heaves, but the rest of him is in complete control. “Fuck no. I’ve stayed away too long, Nora. No more. You’re coming home with me and we’re going to talk.”

  Talk.

  Right.

  That smarts a little, but I have no time to whip out my calendar and schedule a mutually agreeable date because the elevator reaches the thirty-fourth floor and I’m being dragged out. Hands still twined, we’re on the move again, walking into his condo in short order. Once I hear the door click shut behind us, my nerves flare.

  * * *

  “Drink?” Connelly asks in a short tone, heading to the kitchen.

  “No, thank you.” I need to keep a clear, sharp mind or else I’ll get lost in him again. I can’t do that anymore. My heart can’t take the whiplash.

  Connelly grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water before returning to where I’m standing. His voice is even, level, and sincere. “I needed to get out of my condo to think. I ran into Heidi on the way into the bar. She asked if she could join me while she waited for her friends to arrive. I thought it would be rude to say no since I was by myself.”

  Oh. I drag in a breath. It tastes of sour jealousy. “She clearly wanted you.”

  A wry smile tips his lips. “I’m not really sure how you want me to answer that, Nora.”

  “I guess it’s rhetorical. And the other?” I tack on, my brows hooking upward.

  At least he has the sense to look sheepish. When he doesn’t answer, I don’t press. I already know anyway and I also know I’ll just have to fucking get used to it. I’m sure I’ll see him with plenty of women in the future. None of them me.

  Sighing, I walk to his bay of windows, gazing into the night sky that I love so much. I see a few bright stars twinkling, but mostly I see blackness, the lights of the city drowning out the beauty of the Milky Way. I feel that way inside. The consequences of my decisions cover me like a thick, wool blanket. Very little light shines through. “I didn’t like her lips on yours,” is out of my mouth before I can tamp down the green-eyed monster.

  “I didn’t either, princess.” My eyes fall closed at his endearment as his warm breath scatters across my neck. “I haven’t been with anyone since I first laid eyes on you back in that conference room at SER, Nora. I haven’t wanted to. I want you to know that.”

  Relief makes me shaky. I wish that changed things between us. I’m afraid it doesn’t, though. “We need to talk.”

  “I know,” he answers quietly.

  “I’m sorry, Connelly. So very sorry. I know it will never be enough, but I want you to know how much I regret my decision. I understand you’ll never be able to forgive me and I’m not asking you to. I know I don’t deserve it. I can’t forgive myself. I just…I want you to know how truly and deeply full of regret I am.” His reflection in the glass blurs as I let the tears carrying my sins flow.

  Gently turning me to face him, I can barely stand the anguish on his face. “Why, Nora? Just tell me why?”

  “I saw you. The night of your birthday, I came to surprise you and I saw you with her, having sex. I heard her moaning your name, Connelly. I saw everything.”

  His eyes float shut. A pained look crosses his face before his head drops. “Jesus, Nora. I…I made a fucking huge mistake. I don’t even remember it. I was so drunk.”

  That makes two of us. On all counts.

  I continue, needing to purge. “I was devastated so I reacted out of spite. I know it was wrong but I slept with somebody else and when I ended up pregnant I was so in shock I wouldn’t even accept it for weeks. Then I—” Shit this is hard. “I came to see you right before you left for college,” I finish on a whisper that tastes of bile. I tried to do the right thing early on. It just blew up in my face. The shrapnel that hit me that day bled hot for years.

  “You did?” His brows scrunch together. “When?”

  I have to force my swallow down. My skin feels so tight it could split open any second. “Mid-August. You were at open gym shooting hoops. I waited outside the building trying to gather up the courage to talk to you—to tell you everything—when I saw you and Alan come out. I was just about to step around the corner when I overheard Alan say how you’d dodged a bullet with Meredith and the baby.”

  “Oh fuck,” he breathes. His hands come up to cover his face. They’re trembling.

  “And you agreed,” I utter softly, the ache of that statement still a fresh wound in my heart. “You said—and I quote—‘there’s no fucking way a baby is in my future plans.’”

  “Nora,” he croaks. He drops his hands and lifts his gaze to mine. It’s fraught with naked, glistening pain. My own eyes fill back up. “It…fuck, it would have been different with you. I loved you. She was just…she was nothing.”

  I bite my lip, bobbing my head up and down a few times, not knowing how to respond to that. When you’re an eighteen-year-old girl who is pregnant by a guy who cheated on you—who got another girl pregnant at the same time—leaving him behind is your one and only option.

  But of course, I’m no better. I did exactly the same thing. And then I kept it from him. At least I knew all of his indiscretions. I didn’t give him the same courtesy.

  “That’s why you didn’t go to Dartmouth like you’d planned. You were pregnant.”

  I feel my head nodding, but mostly I just feel numb. I need to stay that way to get through this. Not able to look at him while I tell the rest of my story, I head to a stuffed armchair and sit, talking to the floor as I continue. This is, by far, the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life. Even harder than burying my parents.

  “I had a rough pregnancy. I had spotting early and ended up on bed rest. Went into premature labor a couple of times, but Hazel didn’t want to wait any longer, I guess, and she was born almost four weeks early. She had some respiratory issues and they had to transport her to a children’s hospital. Six days after her birth, she contracted an infection and nearly died. She was there for twenty-nine days before they finally released her.”

  “Jesus, Nora.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Her middle name? Miracle?”

  I nod once.

  “Is she okay now? I mean, does she have any residual health issues?” He sounds wrecked.

  “She has moderate asthma. She has to limit her physical activity or she goes into coughing fits and can’t catch her breath. I think that’s one of the reasons she loves photography and design so much. While everyone else was running around, playing outside, she sat on the steps and doodled. But she never complained. She never does. About anything.”

  He takes a seat on the loveseat, on the edge closest to me. “She’s fantastic, Nora.”

  “She is,” I whisper brokenly. “She’s incredible. My little miracle.” I swallow hard past the lump in my throat, continuing on. “Anyway, shortly after I brought her home, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I had to take care of both her and a newborn. I drove Mom back and forth to her chemo appointments. I lost track of how many times she ended up in the ER. And Hazel was sick a lot because of her weakened immune system, so I had that to deal with on top of watching my mot
her slowly and painfully die right before me.”

  “Fuck,” he curses softly. “I hate this. I hate that I wasn’t there to help you. To help with Hazel. To help with your mother.”

  It’s not your fault, I think but don’t say.

  “The guilt ate me raw every day, Connelly. The more Hazel grew, the more I knew she was yours. The more I knew you needed to know. The more it didn’t matter what had happened in our past. I, ah…” I take a long, deep fortifying breath. “After my dad died, I did a lot of soul-searching. I essentially grew up without a father and I knew it was unfair of me to put that same thing on Hazel. I’d made the decision you needed to know and was halfway to Chicago two years back.”

  When I brave a glance at him, all I see is profound sadness. I almost stop and just leave. I don’t, though. I need to gut this out.

  “I stopped at a convenience store to get gas and some food. I was up at the counter paying when I saw it.” I pause. He looks broken because he knows exactly what I saw. “You were on the front cover of a rag.”

  A heavy sigh escapes him as his gaze falls to the floor again. The headline of that damning article will never leave me.

  Chicago Playboy Denies Knocking up Stately Socialite.

  He mutters a string of curses under his breath along with, “It wasn’t me.”

  “Yes. I know that now,” I reply just as quietly. I remember the intense relief when he told me he didn’t have children, followed immediately by the intense shame that he did. He just didn’t know.

  “I feel like destiny pushed us together but worked like a tireless bitch to pull us back apart.” His voice is thick and strained.

  I huff a half laugh. Yeah. I feel the same way.

  “None of it matters anyway, Connelly. What I did was wrong. I am solely to blame here. Not you or destiny or some rich bimbo who tried to pin down the unattainable playboy. It was all me.”

  He leans forward, settling himself in the pose I love so much. Legs wide, elbows on knees, hands falling between his spread thighs. So damn manly and sexy. “See, that’s the same thing I’ve been trying to tell myself for the past few weeks. That all the blame falls on you. But it doesn’t, Nora. Not all of it, anyway. I may not remember that night, but I damn well remember everything that followed. I should have called you. I wanted to. I just…” The pause is pregnant, full of grief. “I didn’t know how to tell you how massively I’d betrayed you.” I bite my trembling lip, hard, keeping the waterworks at bay. “I fucked up, too, and I can’t sit here and cling to my righteous indignation anymore.”