The Things We Knew (24 page)

Gray lowered his eyes and pressed his fingers into his legs. “All of the above.” He looked up and found her watching him.

Tears shimmered in her eyes. She closed the gap between them and held out the photograph. “If you want it.”

“Thanks.” His throat burned as he stared at the silver-framed image of the daughter he would never know. “She's lucky she has you.”

“She barely knows me. A few visits here and there don't measure up to being a real mom.” Tori's sigh was thick with regret. “You know I wasn't in any shape to be a mother when she was born. I'm not so sure I am now. My folks are the only parents she's known. What if she doesn't like me? What if I . . . mess up again?”

“You won't.” He stood, put the picture on the bed, pulled her against him, and let her bury her face against his chest.

After a while, she looked up at him with a sheepish smile and tried to step out of his embrace. He held tight.

Gray studied her face, wanting to commit everything about her to memory. In a few hours she'd be gone. “Why did you stay?”

“What?” Her eyes widened.

“With me.” He let his fingers run along the side of her jaw, across her full lips, and down the slender neck he'd been secretly admiring for way too long. “After everything I put you through, everything that happened, why didn't you just leave? You could have worked things out with your parents. Got your life together back there. Been with Tess all this time . . . but you didn't. You came back to me.”

She pressed her lips together. “I knew Tess was happy. Safe. The truth is, I was scared. I've lived this life so long, on the road, with the band, and you. I didn't know how to leave and start over.
I believed Tess was better off without me, that my going home would only confuse her. And you needed me.” Tori lifted a thin eyebrow and showed him the smile he knew he'd never get over. “I'm a little masochistic, I admit.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.” Thick, wet lashes came down over eyes. Her hair was getting longer, no more spikes, just gorgeous dark curls that framed her face and hid her expression from his scrutiny. “But I don't believe that anymore. I need to go home, Gray. I've wasted too much time already. I need to be with my daughter.”

Our daughter.

Neither one would say it.

Gray let her go and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Pulled out the wad of cash he'd withdrawn from the bank the day before and took her hand in his. “Here. It's not what I owe you, but I think my checks are bouncing.”

She snapped her head up, stared at him, the cash, and then him again. Her mouth hardened into a thin line. “That's not why I stayed.”

God help him, she was tearing his heart out.

“Just take it, Tor. Take it for her.”

“Fine.” She took the bills and shoved them into the pocket of her jeans. “Are we done then? I need to get packed.”

The self-preservationist returned.

Gray gave a reluctant smile. “Can I drive you to the ferry?”

“Lynnie's going to.”

“Oh.” He folded his arms across his chest and quelled the urge to cough. A shudder grabbed hold and shook him anyway.

“You okay?”

“Sure.” As okay as he could be watching his entire life walk out the door. “I . . . um, don't have your number.”

“You don't know my cell number? You only called me a million times a day.”

“I mean your address.” He scratched his jaw and tapped a bare foot against the rug. “I might want to send you chocolates or something.”

“Chocolates?” She laughed and placed the last pile of clothes inside the beat-up case. The green canvas was covered with stickers and emblems and flags of all the countries they'd toured the last few years. She yanked on the zipper, maneuvering it around, closing her life up and hauling it away, out of his. “Gray, when have you ever seen me eat a piece of chocolate?”

“First time for everything?”

“No.” She dropped the suitcase to the floor, scanned the room, then came to stand before him. Her eyes were too bright again.

Gray reached for her hands and threaded his fingers through hers. “What am I going to do without you?”

“I have no idea.” She sniffed, put on a brave smile, and gave his hands a squeeze. “I've left Lynnie all my recipes. I know you don't like those shakes, but they're really good for you. And I don't want you to skip any meetings. I know the first two weren't exactly your cup of java, but stick it out, Gray. Promise me?”

“Yeah, okay.” He'd promise her the world if he believed he could follow through. “Will you . . .” He blinked moisture and cursed inwardly. He was too close to losing it now, but it didn't matter anymore. “Will you tell her . . . tell Tess . . . about me?”

“Gray.” Tori placed a soft hand against his cheek, her lower lip trembling. “What do you want me to tell her?”

“I don't know.” He could hardly get words out. His shoulders began to shake. “Tell her . . . tell her that her daddy loves her. Very much.” He muted her reply as he drew her into his embrace, buried his face against her hair, and lost the battle to pull it together.

She drew back first, rested her hands against his chest, and waited. “Okay?”

“Don't leave.”

“I have to. It's time. You know as well as I do. It's time for you
to get rid of all the junk you're still carrying around. Find some peace out of all this. Find yourself again. The person you used to be before you left this place.” She ran a finger down his nose. “I've seen a bit of that guy the past few weeks. I kind of like him. He's still in here somewhere.” Tori tapped her fingers against his chest. “Maybe one day he'll come see me.”

“What about us? Where does this leave us?”

An errant tear escaped and slowly slipped down her face. “I think we need to figure out our own lives first. Then we can figure out if there should be an us.”

“You'll always be too good for me, Victoria Montgomery.”

“I might have heard that before.” Her eyes twinkled in a snatch of time, before the sadness returned. “Take care of yourself, Gray Carlisle.”

“Wait.” Gray pulled her back into his arms, met her eyes, and prayed she would see everything he couldn't say. There would be no promises made, none given. But he needed her to know he wasn't giving up without a fight. Needed her to know exactly what she meant to him.

Just needed her.

He placed his hands around her face, ignored the way her eyes widened as she tried to pull back, and brought his lips down on hers.

In that instant he knew exactly what he was letting go.

Her initial protest died a quick death as she molded to him, threaded her fingers through his hair, and allowed him to deepen the kiss that exploded into a moment of exquisite pleasure.

“Gray.” She pushed him back, confused. A slow smile started, followed by a throaty laugh that hinted of defeat. “You always did have lousy timing.”

“Still leaving?” He tried to sound hopeful even as he watched her slip into her black pumps and pull on a denim jacket.

“Don't work too hard around here. I'd hate for you to put your back out or anything.”

He released a sigh, wanting to relive the moment but knowing she'd probably kick him if he tried. “Nah. I plan to make Cooper do all the heavy lifting.”

Tori checked her watch. “He's a nice guy. I'm glad you're friends again.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Gray?” She shifted, uneasy again. “Don't call me, okay? Not right away.”

“Tor . . .” He moved closer, but she held up a hand.

“Please. Don't make it any harder.”

Gray let out his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “I know it's way too late for this, but . . . I do care. In my own whacked-out way. I'm sorry it's just not . . .”

Tori slung her purse over her shoulder and gripped the handle of her suitcase. “You're right, Gray. It's just not.”

D
ad sat in the front seat, arms crossed over his seat belt. They'd been parked outside Dr. Miller's office for ten minutes already. Lynette only had the morning off, and Mondays were crazy, the kids still worked up from the weekend.

“Come on, Dad.” Lynette leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. David had driven; she, Gray, and Liz sat in back. “You know Dr. Miller. He's not going to hurt you.”

“You said we were getting ice cream.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake,” Liz grumbled. Lynette shot her a fierce glare. Her sister rolled her eyes and pushed Gray's shoulder. “Get out. It's boiling in here.”

When it was just the three of them in the car, David turned to Dad. “Know what I thought of the other day? That time you and I went sailing and got caught in a storm coming home.”

“Came out of nowhere.” Dad gave a sudden chuckle. “You were scared out of your little mind.”

“I was only ten.” David glanced back at Lynette, surprised.

“Thought you were going to jump right out of the boat.”

“Yeah. I wanted to.” David smiled. “And what did you tell me?”

Dad sighed. “I don't know. Something stupid.”

“You said after every storm comes the calm. But that I had to learn to sail through the storms so I'd never take the calm for granted.”

“Right. Stupid.” Dad harrumphed.

“Dad, we're here for you,” David said. “Whatever's going on, we'll get through it together. But we need to see Dr. Miller to find out what it is.”

Silence thickened the already stifling air. Lynette wiped her eyes and waited.

“Know what it is,” Dad whispered. “Saw it on Dr. Oz. That old timer's thing.”

“Well.” David's sigh was heavy. “If that's our storm, we'll sail it.”

“Can we still get ice cream?” Dad unbuckled his belt.

“As much as you want.”

The five of them stood at the entrance to the building, huddled close.

Dad took the first step. “Come on, then. I don't suppose that doctor wants to wait forever.”

Nick scanned the letter David had thrown on his desk the minute he'd walked into his office Monday afternoon. They'd filed their application with the zoning board and it had been rejected. Almost immediately.

Anthony Cooper had played his first hand.

“What is this all about?” David's eyes blazed. “It's our house. We can do what we want with it.”

“Not exactly.” Nick undid the top button of his shirt, feeling warm. “As I explained, in order for you to convert Wyldewood from a single-dwelling home into a guesthouse, you need approval from the zoning board. If other residents in the area don't like the idea, they're free to file a complaint.”

“Which they've all done.” David sank back against his chair and glared at Nick. “This is your father's doing.”

“Probably.”

“What can we do?”

“Talk to the board commissioner. File an appeal.”

“We don't have time for that.”

Nick put his hands behind his head. “I know the BC. Bryan Johns is a decent man. I'll talk to him. While I'm at it, I'll have a chat with the neighbors as well. But we can't do any major renovations on the house until we're approved.”

“This is absurd. It's almost August. Do we just sit around and twiddle our thumbs?”

“No.” Nick worked to keep frustration from his voice. “We can still do improvements on the interior. Work on refurbishing the floors. Painting. That sort of thing. It's not ideal, but at least we can get going on the rooms that aren't going to change structurally.”

“Fine.” David's irritation bounced off the walls. Nick couldn't blame him, but their hands were tied.

“How's your dad?” Nick asked.

“Well, we finally got him to the doctor this morning. Lynnie tell you?”

“Knew you were going. Haven't talked to her yet today.” Nick planned to go over to the house tonight.

“She'll fill you in. But he's as bizarre as ever.” A smile chased off David's frown. “He's suddenly remembered how to paint.”

“Really?” That was interesting. “Does he still have it?”

“I wouldn't have a clue.” David laughed and checked his watch. “You'd have to ask Lynnie about that. She's the only other artist in the family.”

Nick inhaled and almost asked David to repeat himself. He'd forgotten. “That's right. She was pretty good. Does she still paint?”

“I guess so. Spends a lot of time up in the art studio anyway. How's
your
dad?”

Nick sighed. “Sick. But still causing trouble, obviously. I'm sorry about this, David.”

“We'll get through.” David rose and extended a hand. “I'm
heading over to the mainland for a couple days to see my wife. I think things are finally on the upswing.”

Nick stood and they shook hands. “I'm pleased to hear it. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Let me know how it goes with the board commissioner. Drop by the house when you can. Gray needs a kick in the backside. He's been messed up since Victoria left. I'm worried.”

“Will do.” Nick watched David leave, then he stood, grabbed the letter, and marched down the hall.

His father sat behind his desk, flicking through the
Wall Street Journal
.

“Working hard, Dad?”

“Hello, Nicholas.” He barely glanced up. “How's David?”

Nick tugged on his tie and walked around the spacious office. The shelves were filled with books, journals, and photographs of his father with officials and celebrities. Not a single one of him. Never had been.

“Did you need something?”

Nick turned and met his father's blunt stare. Dad's hair was sporting a few more strands of gray these days. Shadows circled his eyes. His normally tanned skin was sallow.

Nick got right to the point, waving the letter. “Why are you so determined to stop the Carlisles from turning Wyldewood into a guesthouse?”

“Me?” He drummed his fingers on the desk and looked contrite. “It's not just me. Everyone in the neighborhood is against the idea.”

“But they wouldn't be against knocking the house down and putting up a hotel?”

Dad shrugged, a thin smile appearing. “I guess we'll never know.”

“This is the only chance they have of holding on to their home.”

“Where would they get the money for those kinds of renovations, Nicholas? Is the singer footing the bill?”

Nick glanced at his shoes. “They have investors.”

“Investors? Fascinating.” His father gave a hacking cough that took up all space in the room. “So help me, Nicholas, if you're spending your inheritance on that monstrosity of a house—”

“Dad?” Nick didn't like the shade of his father's cheeks. He went for water and handed him a glass.

After a couple of swallows, Dad's eyes were steely again. “If you want to throw your money away, I can't stop you. They'll have to appeal the board's decision.”

Nick yanked off his tie and prayed for patience. None came. “I really don't know how we're related.” He watched a slight hint of aggravation flicker across his father's face.

Dad stood and placed his palms on the desk. “I see whose side you're on.”

“This isn't about sides. It's about what's right.”

“Because you know so much about that.”

Nick faced the window, the start of a migraine pinching his neck. “You'll never get over that, will you? Never believe I wasn't at fault.”

“I don't think it matters what I believe.”

“I'm with the Carlisles on this, Dad. We'll appeal.”

“You're making a grave mistake.”

“Interesting analogy.” Nick managed a tight smile. “I think the mistakes have already been made. Wouldn't you agree?”

Fury flashed across his father's face but he tamped it. Drew his lips together and tipped his head toward the door. “Get out.”

Cecily was wiping down the counter top when Nick strode into the kitchen at Wyldewood that evening. “Hey, gorgeous. Did I miss dinner?”

“Don't you gorgeous me, Nicholas Cooper.” But her dark
cheeks got rounder. “There are enough leftovers to feed the rest of the island. Nobody around here wants to eat nowadays.”

“Where's Lynnie?”

“Babysitting. I'm staying late, until she gets home.”

“Oh.” He masked his disappointment and took a seat. “Nobody else is here?” Nick's stomach began to growl as she made him a plate. “Heard David's gone for a few days. What about Liz?”

“Gone too.” Cecily set a plate of food before him. “That's all I got to say about that.”

“She's a grown woman, Cecily.”

“Crazy's what she is.” Her sigh was deep. “I don't think things are right with that boyfriend of hers. If you ask me, he's trouble. The worst kind. But I guess she'll have to figure it out for herself.” She began to empty the dishwasher. “Well, she'll be back by the end of the week. Or so she says.”

“Hope so.” Nick stabbed a piece of chicken with unnecessary force. “Lynnie needs the help.”

Drake came into the kitchen, the dogs bounding after him. “Hello, Nicholas.”

“Sir.” Nick gauged his facial expression to see which way the winds were blowing and returned the familiar smile.

“It's a great day for a sail, my boy!” Drake slapped him on the back and eyed his food. “Now, that looks good. Is it dinnertime already?”

Cecily fixed Drake with a withering glare. “You had your dinner, Mr. Carlisle. You told me it tasted like rotten tomatoes.”

“Nonsense, woman!” Drake plopped down on the other side of the banquet and pounded on the table. “Get me a plate. I'm starving.”

“You could say please.”

He curled a strand of gray hair around his finger and somehow looked charming. “Please?”

Cecily pursed her lips. “Fine, then.”

“Sweet.” Drake grinned and Nick stared.

“I'll sweet you.” Cecily served Drake and cleaned up while they ate.

Nick inhaled his meal. Good home cooking. So much better than that gourmet garbage his father insisted Soraya make for them. “Where's Gray?” He grabbed a paper napkin from the holder and wiped his mouth.

“Out again. You know that boy and his shenanigans.” Drake cocked an eyebrow. “Didn't your parents ground you, Nicholas? What are you doing over here?”

Cecily's eyes clouded over. “Come on, Mr. Carlisle. You want to watch
Judge Judy
?” She untied her apron. “Gray's upstairs in his room. Said he had a headache.”

She took Drake's arm and ushered him out of the kitchen. When she returned she took a seat opposite Nick. “That boy's been miserable since Victoria left. Lynette's convinced there was something going on between them, although they both swore there wasn't. Did he say anything to you?”

Nick chugged from his can of soda and tried to avoid Cecily's eyes. “You know guys. We don't talk much.”

She narrowed her eyes and leaned in. “Do you know that your jaw twitches ever so slightly when you're lying?”

Nick didn't doubt it. “Maybe I'll go talk to him.”

“Maybe you should talk to me.”

“Ce-ce.” Nick enjoyed her aggravated expression. “I can't.”

“You do know something!” Her eyebrows came together as she tried to stare him down.

“Not gonna work. Not this time.”

Her stern look slipped and she let out a laugh. “All right. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah.” He stood and took his dishes over to the sink, then turned back to her. “Pray.”

“Huh.” Cecily gave him a skewed look. “Guess sometimes you got more sense than I give you credit for.”

Nick left the kitchen and headed upstairs. A minute later he ran downstairs. Cecily and Drake were in the den watching television. “Did Gray come through here?”