London Tides: A Novel (The MacDonald Family Trilogy Book 2) (16 page)

“Grace, we’re sorry,” Sarah said. “We wouldn’t have pushed if we’d known.”

“No apologies necessary, please. What am I missing?”

“Chris and I were just talking about the time we bet part of the squad they wouldn’t strip down on the side of the road—and then we drove off without them.” Ian grinned at his mate across the table. “I still remember them running after the van in the snow, bare as the way they entered the world.”

“Freshers never have any idea what they’re in for,” Chris said, barely getting out the words before he dissolved into laughter again.

“It’s a good thing these two grew up a bit in the last twenty years,” Sarah said, but she seemed just as amused.

“Marginally.” Ian winked at Grace, but underneath the table, he gripped her hand hard. She squeezed back gratefully.

They kept the topics light—mostly stories of their misdeeds, to which Grace could add a few Sarah had never heard—but through it all, Ian held her hand. Strong, steady, reassuring. He let her go only long enough to pay the bill, and then they were back out on the street.

He held her back in the swiftly deepening twilight. “Are you sure you don’t want to call it a night?”

“No. I like Chris and Sarah. It’ll be fine.”

Ian squeezed her shoulder, letting his thumb brush her neck for a moment, then gave a nod. She drew a deep breath of gratitude and plunged into the crowd beside him, trying to keep Chris’s blond head in sight over the other pedestrians.

Even on a weeknight, Piccadilly Circus was glutted with people—tourists with cameras capturing the neon lights and swiftly changing signage; locals pushing through without irritation or concern on their way to their destinations; the babble of voices in a dozen languages melding with buskers and boom boxes and car horns. Ian threaded a path for them through the crowd with one hand firmly on her waist, shifting himself to block her from the occasional drunken reveler or clueless holiday-goer. He was almost too good to be true. Chivalrous, sensitive, understanding. How long had it been since someone had taken the trouble to look after her? Not because he thought she needed it—he’d made it clear that he knew she could take care of herself—but because he actually cared about her?

For that matter, how long had it been since she’d truly cared about someone in return?

Her insides gave a clench, twisting up her heart and lungs all at once and forcing the thrum of her blood into her ears. She only realized she’d stopped when Ian slowed and cast a puzzled look in her direction. “Grace?”

“I think I love you,” she murmured.

He frowned, then bent down so he could hear her. “What did you say? It’s too loud.”

“I said, I think I love you.”

He jerked back. “In Piccadilly Circus?”

“No, everywhere.” A smile burst onto her face, a new lightness bubbling up inside. “In Piccadilly Circus. In Earl’s Court. I suspect I would feel the same way in Scotland, though we’ll have to test that theory.”

His expression rippled from consternation to pleasure as he processed what she was saying. At last it settled on something she could only name as joy. He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard, stealing her breath with the intensity of his reaction. And then his kiss gentled, exploring as if they had all the time in the world, as if they weren’t standing in the middle of a crowded public space. The jostling of bodies around them only forced them closer together, and he wrapped his arms around her as if to shield her again from the crowd. From her memories. And for that moment, pressed as close to him as they could possibly get, she actually believed he could do it.

When he lifted his lips from hers, he didn’t release her. He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear that, Grace. I love you too. I’ve not said anything because I didn’t want to frighten you away.”

She stretched on tiptoes to kiss him again. “I’m here. And I’m staying.” She looked around. “And we’ve lost your friends because of that extremely impressive PDA.”

Ian smiled at her and kissed her one last time. “Not really thinking about them right now. Besides, we’ll catch up with them at the cinema.”

But they barely made it more than a half-dozen steps through the square before running into Chris and Sarah, who were grinning like mad fools.

“Get distracted?” Sarah asked.

“You saw that, did you?” Ian said.

“Well, Chris did. I’m too short.” Sarah looked between the two of them, eyebrows raised. “Are we on to the cinema then, or do you want to take a rain check?”

Grace looked up at Ian, trying to gauge his reaction. All the emotion and adrenaline rushing through her made it hard to concentrate. “No, I’ve been looking forward to the film. We should go.”

They fell back in together toward the cinema, its facade illuminated with neon strip lighting. Grace barely noticed when Ian bought their tickets or when they found their way to their designated screen. When they settled into their seats, Grace was thankful to be on one end beside Ian so she didn’t have to make small talk with Chris or Sarah. She wasn’t sure she was capable of it.

The film slipped by without penetrating her brain while she turned around what she’d said over and over in her mind. She had told Ian she loved him. And he loved her too. This should have made her panicky and unsettled. She should have been questioning whether it was the emotion of her earlier episode, the catharsis of the unaccustomed tears that had made her say it. But even she couldn’t find it in herself to tear apart and overanalyze what had just happened.

She’d told him she loved him, that she was staying. And she meant it.

Sarah and Chris said something about heading to a club for live music, but Ian begged off, for which Grace was grateful. She’d not seen any of the film, and from the way Ian had periodically brought her hand to his lips, he hadn’t been any more focused on the screen than she had.

They climbed into a black cab just after eleven, where he immediately reclaimed her hand. “So. Did the night turn out all right after all?”

“You know it did.” She smiled at him in the dark. “I’ve always liked Chris. And Sarah is delightful.”

“I thought you’d like her. And she doesn’t invite just anyone to tap-dance, you know. She liked you.”

Grace threw him a doubtful look. “Maybe before I had my meltdown.”

“Chris’s brother is in the military. He understands. Believe me, no one is thinking anything about it. Other than thinking you’re amazing and brave.”

“You’re biased.”

“That I am.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. She leaned against him and let out a long sigh.

Ten years after she left him, she still loved him and he still loved her.

What now?

“Stop thinking,” he whispered in her ear, nuzzling her neck for a second. “We don’t have to make any decisions tonight.”

She let out a low laugh. He’d never struck her as particularly perceptive, but in this, he had her bang to rights. Had their roles reversed so much? He was the planner. She was the free spirit. He’d had his life laid out in front of him practically since birth, even if he’d refused to follow the script for a while. She was a drifter in all senses of the word. And yet there was a beautiful symmetry in the idea of one day at a time.

When at last the taxi dropped them at the curb, he leaned forward to pay the driver, then followed her into the building to Asha’s flat. Grace unlocked the door, suddenly nervous. She turned to him. “Ian—”

The look on his face obliterated whatever she had been about to say. As if of one mind, they closed the space between them in a crushing embrace, lips finding lips, drinking in each other in a mad rush of emotion and desire. Her back hit the door without her fully registering it—she was too focused on his fingers digging into her hips, his mouth devouring hers. She groped behind her for the knob, and they practically fell through the doorway, breaking contact only long enough to slam it behind them.

“Grace,” he murmured as his lips left hers to travel along her neck. She raked her hands through his hair. This she remembered. This never changed. All the pent-up emotion of the night bubbled to the surface, screaming for release.

And then the reality of what that meant washed over her. “Wait,” she whispered. “Ian, stop.”

Her words seemed to hit him like a bucket of cold water. He froze and dropped his forehead against the wall behind her. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No. Don’t say anything for a second.” She was breathing as hard as he was, and it took her several moments to gather her thoughts enough to speak. “There are some things we should talk about.”

He pushed away from the wall, and that little bit of distance felt like a mile. Still, the look he gave her was filled with tenderness. “You don’t have to explain anything. We just got … a little carried away.”

Did he actually look a little abashed? That was not something she would have expected from him. She stretched up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. “It’s been an emotional night—”

“And we shouldn’t take advantage.” He passed a hand over his face. “Grace, really, it’s okay. I didn’t come here expecting anything.”

“Will you hush?” She softened the words with a rueful smile and hooked a finger through his belt loop to pull him closer again. “And if you could, stop looking so ruddy attractive so I can think for a minute.”

That earned a smile. “I’m listening.”

She let out a breath. This wasn’t anything she had expected to be discussing right now, but it had to be said. “Ian, there’s something you need to understand. My life over there, it was different.”

His eyebrows drew together slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re in danger much of the time. People you know and respect die. For that matter, strangers die, and rather than helping, you keep your distance through the lens and keep shooting. And sometimes, at the end of the day, it’s just too much to go back to your hotel room alone. You know?”

He exhaled slowly. “Grace, I never had the expectation that you lived like a nun. If you think that bothers me—”

“No. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s not something I can change either. I just … I don’t want this—us—to be out of reflex or habit. I don’t want that other life to bleed over and taint what we have now. Does that make sense?”

He trailed a finger down her cheek, and even now, the tingle of that simple touch put cracks into her resolve. “I love you, Grace. I never want you to do anything out of fear of disappointing me. I wasn’t pushing for anything more than a good-night kiss.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I seem to forget how hard it is to keep my hands off you.”

“Well, you’re not that easy to resist yourself.”

His hands closed on her waist, and his head dipped to kiss her softly. It took an effort not to move closer. “I promise you, there is no pressure, no expectation. And if the right time involves a wedding ring and a white dress—”

She let out a breath in a puff. “That’s even more terrifying than getting shot at. Did you have to mention the
w
word?”

“That’s supposed to be my line, remember?” He lifted her hand to his lips, his expression turning serious. “I’ve spent most of the last ten years wondering what my life would have been like with you still in it. I’m not about to ruin our chance to find out. No need to rush decisions—about anything.”

His expression was so tender, it made her insides ache. “I love you, Ian.”

“And I will never get tired of hearing that.” One more kiss, just a touch too heated to be called sweet, and he was backing away from her. “Good night. Get some rest.”

“Not a chance.”

She smiled as he let himself out. Then she locked the door behind him and took a moment to sag against the wall before she pushed herself up and retrieved her T-shirt and flannel shorts from her duffel. She didn’t regret sending him home or explaining her reasoning behind it. It was what she needed—what they needed—to make sure they didn’t follow their previous path. They’d already seen where that ended.

Still, even after she climbed beneath the soft, well-worn duvet and flicked off the light, sleep didn’t come. The sofa bed felt cold and empty without him, even if what she craved was simply his presence beside her, pillowing her head on his shoulder as they fell asleep. But she knew herself well enough to recognize it wouldn’t end there, and she didn’t want Ian to be just another regret. They needed a chance to have a real relationship, without … distractions. She needed time to see if Ian was the one, beyond her physical connection with him.

Grace had already confessed her mistakes to God. She had vowed that she would be different, that she would honor the second chance she’d been given. And she wanted to keep that promise. She was determined to keep that promise.

But she had never felt so weak.

Chapter Eighteen

“So, what was all that about last night?” Chris sat down on the changing-room bench after their outing, dressed in a navy blue suit that seemed incongruously polished on his large body.

Ian shrugged and fastened his shirt cuffs with a pair of onyx links, a slight smile surfacing as he remembered Grace’s suggestion that they were his Kryptonite. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You kissed her in the middle of a crowd. I’ve never known you to even hold a woman’s hand in public.”

“Psychoanalyzing me now?”

Chris pushed himself up. “Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast. Surely you have time for breakfast.”

“For some posh investment analyst, you don’t seem to spend much time in the office.”

“I spend all my time in the office that I’m not here.”

“Which I’m sure Sarah is thrilled about.”

Chris winced. “Coming or not?”

Ian glanced at his watch. Nearly eight. Technically the office didn’t open until nine, and with Ms. Grey in charge, it hardly mattered as long as he arrived by his ten o’clock conference call. “All right. If you’re buying. Where to?”

They ended up where they always ended up, the greasy spoon at Putney Bridge where Ian had brought Grace the morning of their first date. It was crowded today, packed with locals and holiday-goers filling up on EBCB—eggs, bacon, chips, and beans.

“Should have known this was where you’d go if you were paying,” Ian cracked when they took one of the few remaining tables.

“Where else?” Chris dumped half the sugar shaker into his tea, then stirred it with a clank of cutlery against ceramic. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “You know I like Grace. I always have.”

“I sense a
but
coming.”

“
But
surely you can see the effect that job had on her. I know PTSD when I see it. She had a flashback because of the food last night, didn’t she?”

Ian stared at his friend. Chris was clearly speaking out of concern, but the things that Grace had told him were confidential. How much was too much to reveal? “I know what Grace is going through. She’s dealing with it.”

“I don’t think you do. And I don’t think she’s dealing with it at all. My brother served in the Balkans, and you know how long ago that was. Still has nightmares. Can’t walk down the street without checking his sight lines and escape routes. Sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Craig’s wife hung in there for a while, but after a few years, she couldn’t take it anymore. The drinking, the women—”

“That’s combat stress,” Ian said. “Grace hasn’t been in combat. She hasn’t killed anyone.”

“Do you think that’s any better? The things she’s seen—even soldiers don’t deal with that sometimes. You only have to look at her pictures, mate. She’s carrying around some heavy baggage.”

“So what are you saying?” Ian stuffed down the anger that threatened to spill into his voice. “Are you saying she’s damaged and I should write her off? You know me better than that.”

Chris leaned back against the booth and spread his hands wide. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m telling you that these things don’t disappear overnight. You need to understand what you’re getting into.”

Before he got too attached to cut her loose. The subtext was clear. Completely understandable, and yet the wrongness of it all made him feel a little ill. Grace herself had said she didn’t want to be his rehabilitation project.

Was Chris right, though? So far she’d referred to her problems as “issues” and “episodes.” She’d refused to go to another therapist, didn’t think she needed one. And yet she was self-aware enough to recognize her own self-destructive coping mechanisms, to not want to repeat the same mistakes. That had to be a sign of progress.

Chris could evidently see his comments had thrown Ian into a tailspin. “Listen, you know I’m behind you whatever you do. But I’ve seen it firsthand, and I thought you needed to be prepared.”

Ian gave him a slow nod.

“Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about today. You hear about Nik?”

“No. What about him?”

“Fractured his collarbone playing rugby with his boys in the garden. He’s going to be out indefinitely.”

Ian winced. There was a reason they had avoided playing contact sports while rowing. The training scheme took its own toll on the body without adding the possibility of major injury on top of it. Recovery was a solid eight to twelve weeks for a fractured collarbone. “So Henley’s out. Pairs too. What about it?”

“There was some talk about you as a replacement.”

“I’m no longer competitive. You know that.”

“I don’t know that. You could have been stellar, you know, one of the best, had you just stuck with it. Your name would be up there with Pinsent and Searle. You don’t lose those instincts.”

“But you lose the hunger,” Ian said.

“So you’re not interested.”

Of course I’m interested
, he wanted to say, but he had to be sensible. No matter how flattering it was to be considered to sub for a rower like Nik, he’d have to dedicate himself completely to training for the next several months. And for what? A chance to relive the glory days? Stroking a veteran boat in a second-string race? He pushed back his unfinished meal and stood. “No, sorry. Thanks for breakfast, though.”

“You would have done it a few months ago, wouldn’t you?”

“Whether I would have or not is irrelevant.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Chris gave him a wry look. “Listen, some of the lads are having supper and a pint at the local after workout tonight. You might as well come along. And bring Grace.”

It was Chris’s way of checking if they were still okay. Ian gave a quick nod. “I’ll ask her.”

“Good. And don’t be too hasty on that decision. I still think you’d make a good sub for Nik.”

“I’ll think about it.” But his mind was made up. He’d already spent too much time living in the past.

An hour later Ian made his way back to the Tube, kit bag on one shoulder, briefcase in hand, while Chris’s words tumbled over in his mind. What he had said about Grace and her issues, the offer to sub on the veteran crew: things he would have once given serious consideration.

But he’d meant what he’d said. His rowing career was over. And he wouldn’t abandon Grace because of what she’d endured for the sake of what she believed was right. The two were linked somehow in his mind. Once, he’d had as much passion for his rowing as Grace had for her photography, but somewhere along the line, it had become rote. Something to fill the time, a way to keep his mind busy and his body active. Something that defined him beyond the daily routine of going to his brother’s office, minding his brother’s business. When he was on the water, his problems seemed distant. The familiar clunk of the oars in the locks, the swish of the water against the hull, metaphorical barriers against his regrets.

But now that Grace was back, he could see how empty his life had been.

Actually, it had started earlier than that, watching his brother fall in love with a woman he hardly knew, seeing the changes that Andrea’s presence had made in Jamie’s life, small at first, and then greater. Jamie had always been driven, successful, outgoing. But now he actually seemed happy. A little sickening at times, but more settled than Ian had ever imagined seeing him.

It made it harder to claim that some men just weren’t suited to the domestic life.

It was why Ian had made the cursory attempts at dating, even when he knew at first sight none of those women would ever elicit more than vague affection and admiration. They had never stolen his breath, never kept him up nights, and he would have said that was a good thing. Look what his passion for Grace had done to him once before.

He’d been lying to himself.

Which is why rather than head to the office as he should have, he found himself returning to his flat. When he emerged from the Underground onto street level, he pulled his mobile from his pocket and called the office.

“Ms. Grey, it’s Ian.” Even if she refused to call him by his first name, he wasn’t about to get into the habit of addressing himself as “mister.”

“I’m going to take my ten o’clock at home. Will you please conference me through when it comes in?”

“Of course, sir. I’d be happy to. Should we expect you later?”

“What’s on my calendar?”

“Just a three o’clock status update with Bridget. I can reschedule it for tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Hold off on that. I’m not sure how my day is going to play out yet. I’ll let you know if I’m not coming in.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll talk to you at ten.”

When he pushed through the door of his flat, he tossed his kit bag in the foyer, dropped the briefcase on the hall table, and went straight to the old-fashioned phone book he kept in the drawer with Grace’s clips, a remnant of days when mobile phones were the size of bricks. He flipped through to find the one contact he’d been fairly certain he would never call again. Then he dialed.

“This is Ian MacDonald. I’d like to make an appointment with Mr. Segal for today if possible.”

“Of course, sir,” the faintly German-accented voice said on the other end of the line. “Mr. Segal would be pleased to meet with you. Design or purchase?”

“Design. Or I suppose I should say redesign. Mr. Segal made a piece for me a number of years ago.”

“I understand, sir. Would half past two at the Old Bond Street boutique suit you?”

“It would, thank you.” He said his good-byes and clicked off, his pulse feeling oddly unsteady.

He went to the walk-in wardrobe in his bedroom and knelt before the small safe bolted to the floor. It was empty but for his passport, a small stack of banknotes, and the insanely expensive gold Patek Philippe watch his mother had given him for his thirtieth birthday but he hated too much to actually wear.

Plus a small, gray velvet box.

He took the box out and flipped open the lid. He hadn’t looked at the engagement ring since Grace had left it on his kitchen countertop. Even when he’d moved house, he’d left the box closed, simply shoving it back into the safe and not questioning why he couldn’t bear to let it go. Now, looking at the cushion cut diamond set in a flashy pavé band, he wondered why he’d ever thought she would wear something so ostentatious.

He snapped the box closed and returned to the living room, where he intended to prep for the conference call with the first of the law firms he was considering to replace Barrett. No matter how much he tried to concentrate, that gray box drew his attention. It was rash, coming so soon after they’d revived their relationship. It wasn’t as if he planned on asking her to marry him right now. He simply believed in being prepared.

Prepared to do whatever it took to convince her to stay this time.