“What was that?” she asks, and I harden instantly at the way she crinkles her nose in disdain. “Why were you bringing a soaking wet woman into your bedroom?”
“Jamie, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cut our date short.”
Her eyes narrow and her back stiffens. “What?”
“My friend is going through a crisis, and I need to help her.”
Jamie stands in a huff. “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Her hands go to her hips and it’s like she’s reading my mind because those are my exact thoughts. She has got to be kidding me. How can she not just say something like, oh, I’m so sorry, of course I’ll leave you to help your friend?
“No. I’m not kidding you,” I reply, my tone clipped as my patience run out with this woman. All I can think about is getting back to Grace. “Which is why you need to leave now.”
She stomps off, back toward the kitchen, snatches her purse off the counter and continues to stomp like a five-year-old all the way to the door. I open it for her, making sure she walks through it and when she makes no move to do more, I press the button on the elevator.
Some kind of shrill sound escapes the back of her throat at that. “I am so not coming back,” she threatens.
“I don’t care,” I tell her with zero emotion.
She lets out another small huff, but thankfully the doors to the elevator open and she steps on, flipping me off as the doors close. I roll my eyes, but quickly dial the doorman on my cell and ask him to make sure she gets into a cab or an Uber, and then I hang up and run back through my apartment and into my bedroom, practically at a sprint.
I hit up my closet, grab the first things I come across that will be way too big on her and then knock gently on the door to the bathroom. “Grace?”
“I’ll be right out,” she shouts, her voice sounding clear and strong.
“Okay. Take your time. I’m going to crack the door and place some clothes on the counter.”
She doesn’t respond, so I open the door, doing just as I said I would while avoiding the steamy mirror and the glass shower at all costs. I’m tempted to call Oliver, but I wait. Something had her taking to the dark rainy streets in search of him and I need to know what I’m dealing with first.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I prop my elbows on my parted thighs and drop my head into my hands. But when I hear the door open, my head instinctively raises and what I’m hit with makes my breath stall in my chest.
Jesus Christ.
I swallow hard, doing my best to ignore the way she looks in my clothes with her long, wet hair cascading down the shirt making her nipples stand at attention. Blinking, I force my eyes up to hers as the scent of Grace wearing my shampoo and body wash assaults my nose.
“Are you hungry?” I ask as she stands before me.
I get a shrug for that, but again, I don’t give her the option. Suddenly I need to get my brother’s best friend who looks way too tempting out of my bedroom.
“I made food that you’re going to eat.” I stand, taking her by the arm once more and leading her down the hall to the kitchen.
“What happened to your date?”
I glance down at her, but she’s not smiling and she’s not teasing me.
“Gone.”
She shakes her head slowly. “Sorry I ruined your night.”
“You didn’t. Now sit down.” I guide her to one of the stools at the island. “Have a glass of wine.” I pour her a very full glass of red. “And tell me why you showed up here looking like a drowned rat.”
She stares down at the glass, clasping it in her hand before raising it to her lips and taking the daintiest of sips. When she sets it down, she lets out a weighty sigh. “I really want to drink this. I really want to get so drunk that I can’t think or see or remember anything. But I shouldn’t, right?” Her eyes meet mine for a flicker of a second before falling back to the wine. I can’t tell if she’s actually asking me or not. “Stress. Heartache. Too many emotions. If I drink, with the way my day has gone, I’ll probably have a seizure and I didn’t bring my meds with me. Nothing.” She laughs then but there is no humor to the sound. “I left with nothing. Not even my phone.”
“Grace…” I let her name trail.
With her eyes still on her glass, she says, “Tony slept with another woman.”
“That stupid fuck!” slips out before I can stop it.
She doesn’t react and I want to kill the bastard. I want to beat him to within an inch of his puny, pathetic life. I could do it too. He’s a weakling, not to mention three inches shorter and about twenty pounds of muscle lighter.
Oliver would want in on that. Hell, all of my brothers would.
“How did you find out?” I lean against the island and place my hand on her shoulder because she looks like she needs the comfort and support. My other hand is balled up into a fist at my side. She leans into me, barely hanging on.
“I overheard the woman talking about her wild night of hot sex.” She hiccups out a snort, shaking her head. “Can you freaking believe that? I mean, what are the odds of the woman who slept with my fiancé sitting behind me in the café I was eating lunch in?”
“One in a million?”
“At least. But she didn’t just walk into the café and say I had sex with Tony Marvelo. No, she sat there behind me, gossiping all the juicy details to her friend.”
“Shit,” I mutter, briefly closing my eyes. Grace sits up, shifting away from me, and I release my hold on her shoulder. “I am so sorry, Grace.”
I grip the counter when what I really want to do is hug her. Hold her. I want to wrap her up in my arms and kiss away all her pain. Erase that stupid piece of shit from her head and her heart because he never deserved either and I want them. Damn, I’m such a fool.
What the hell am I even thinking? These are not thoughts I can have. But seeing her like this? Every protective instinct I’ve ever possessed rages.
“What can I do?” I ask, feeling helpless. “Name it and it’s yours. Do you want me to go kill him? Because I will. Happily, in fact.”
“You’ll go to jail.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll just tell the jury I did womankind a service and they’ll let me go. Besides, juries never convict attractive people. All I have to do is smile at them.”
She lets out a small laugh, and I take that as a minor victory given the situation.
“Do you want me to call Oliver?” I offer.
“No. Don’t bother him. He’s with Amelia and, as you said, he lives out in the suburbs now. I can’t believe I forgot about that.”
“You had other things on your mind.”
“I guess I did.”
She gets up, walking through the great room over toward the large floor-ceiling windows that comprise that entire wall. For a second, I think she’s going to open the slider and go out onto the balcony, back into the rain, but she just presses her fingers to the glass, staring at the glowing blurry buildings beyond.
“What am I going to do?” she asks only I get the feeling her question is for herself and not me.
“You’re going to stay here.”
She spins around at my voice, finding me still glued to the island, almost afraid to move. I shouldn’t have offered that. The words tumbled past my lips without any restraint or bearing on repercussions. Having Grace stay here, even temporarily, is a mistake of epic proportions.