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He raised his eyebrows and rubbed his lips. Then he smiled. “I love it!” He reached for both my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug. Well, that went better than I’d expected. I chuckled when he slapped my back. He pulled me away and wiped a tear from his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Well, don’t thank me yet. Our grand opening is next week and that will be the real test.”
25
Luke
Saturday morning, I rolled out of my king-size bed and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I didn’t have the energy to even fry an egg. I sat at the center of the kitchen island, two stools on either side of me, and stared at the solid oak table.
I’d sanded it down myself and varnished it after renovating the house. I’d bought twelve new chairs—big, upholstered ones, imagining my brothers and our families sitting all together.
The chairs all sat empty. My chest tightened, longing for the image of a full table. Pushing back my stool, I left the kitchen and went to the study to pour myself a drink. I didn’t care that it was only ten o’clock in the morning. If I didn’t drown this feeling out, I would be miserable all day.
I retreated to the study. Leather-bound books lined two of the four walls, floor to ceiling, and a dark wood ladder stood against one wall. A large maple desk sat in front of the window; a glass bar right next to it. I poured two fingers of scotch into a glass and swirled it around.
I often drank here when I felt down. It didn’t necessarily make me feel better. Something was always missing. Yet, the scent of the wood and old books was familiar and comforting.
Just as I brought the glass to my lips, I surveyed the room again and acknowledged what was missing. People.
Whenever I came to this room as a child, I found my father at his desk. Sometimes, my mother would be here too, or one of my father’s business associates. Often, I would hide under my father’s desk while Ryan tried to find me. My father would cover for me every time, saying he hadn’t seen me, and I would cover my mouth with both hands to muffle my laughter at having outsmarted Ryan. Even though I knew it had been dad, I couldn’t help feeling we’d done it together.
That’s what’s been missing. That feeling of togetherness.
For most of my teenage years and all of my adult life, I felt like I needed to prove to myself that I could do it on my own. That I didn’t need anyone else because people eventually abandoned me in the end. My parents. My uncle, and even Grace.
At least I’d thought she had abandoned me, just like everyone else had. I’d thought I wasn’t worth someone’s time. I’d shut her out, not wanting to get hurt again, and ran away. I had done it to protect myself.
Shit! I’ve done it again.
I dropped my glass on the desk, not having taken a sip, and nearly stumbled with the realization. I had pushed her away again, afraid that I would get hurt. But what about her?
Fuck!
I’m a stupid, selfish asshole.
I reached into my back pocket for my phone and dialed her number. After the third ring, I dropped my head into my hands. She wouldn’t pick up. I knew after a week of not speaking, she probably didn’t want to talk now.
Dammit!
I pushed off the bed and paced the room. A million different words raced through my mind. Explanations, excuses, either way, they were just words and words weren’t good enough right now. I needed to go to her.
Grabbing the keys to the fastest car I owned, I ran to the garage and started the engine. It roared to life and lifted my spirits. I would beg her to take me back. If I had to, I would grovel on my hands and knees. I would not lose her for another ten years. I didn’t want to waste another ten seconds.
Grace’s apartment building was across town. I screeched to a halt at the yellow light, realizing I had to control my emotions before I scared her. I felt like some raging bull who’d finally glimpsed the red cape. Only in this case, the red cape was my stupidity.
In the foyer of her building, I cursed the slow elevator and promised myself I would buy her a new apartment, hell, a new house, to avoid these damn slow elevators.
Finally, the doors opened and I ran inside.
“Can you hold the doors?” a man called behind me. I was about to shout no but gritted my teeth instead. I pressed the button and waited an agonizing two minutes while he strolled to the elevator. No wonder most women I knew complained about self-centered men. Tonight was a revelation of dumb things guys do.
“Can you press eight, dude?” I was about to comply when I realized that was the floor below Grace’s apartment. My finger hesitated above the button. That would just slow me down.
I looked him straight in the eye. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to get off on the ninth floor and take the stairs down?”
The bastard pursed his lips and shook his head as though turning the offer down was a possibility. He reached across me to press the button himself.
