Chapter 20
Twenty
Conway
“D id you always know you wanted to own your own construction business?” Grace asks, her fingers gently running up and down my forearm.
With my cheek rested on her head, I breathe in the sweet scent of her hair. Since we finished having sex about ten minutes ago, we’ve been lying here in a comfortable silence, and I’m soaking in the feel of her body against mine.
“Not necessarily,” I murmur. “When I got into construction, I was freshly eighteen, and the only real goals or plans I had for myself was paying the bills and providing for Cole and his mom.”
“When did your goals morph into more than just getting by?”
“When I was about twenty-three.” I don’t have to think about it; the answer comes easily to my mind. “Richie, my boss back then, was a great guy, and he always saw something in me that I could never see. He hired a scared kid who had zero experience and was barely old enough to have a new wife and a baby on the way. Richie took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew.”
“Richie Sandoval?” Grace asks, rolling over in my arms to face me. Even though the room is mostly dark, with only the light from the kitchen down the hall spilling in, I can make out how her cheeks are still flushed from what we just did, her hair sweaty and disheveled on top of her head, and there’s a little bit of black smudged under her eyes from her make-up, and even still, the sight of her is breathtaking. Seeing Grace looking relaxed and less than done up is a beautiful sight. One I could see myself getting used to.
“The one and only,” I reply before leaning in, unable to help myself, and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her eyelids flutter and she breathes out a sigh that warms my chest.
“It doesn’t surprise me that he gave you a job,” she murmurs softly. “That man has such a big, giving heart. So does his wife, Teresa. She was my teacher junior year.”
“She was mine senior year.”
Grace’s eyes crinkle as she smiles up at me. “No way.”
I nod. “Teresa and Rich became like second parents to me and Mel. Teresa threw us a baby shower, which was a huge deal for us back then. Both of our parents were always loving, and they supported my and Mel’s decision to get married and keep the baby, but Mel was raised by a single mom who worked two jobs and had two other kids to raise, and even though both of my parents worked, they barely had two pennies to rub together after bills were paid. Buying a crib for us or helping with diapers was out of the question. So, having somebody throw a baby shower for us, and getting everything we could possibly need and more from everyone who showed up, was huge . It meant a great deal to Mel and me.
After Cole was born, Richie was flexible with me when Mel was struggling with postpartum depression. There were days when he would let me bring Cole to work, and me, him, and the rest of the crew would take turns feeding and changing him in between naps, which thankfully he took a lot of since he was a newborn.”
“That’s so sweet,” Grace says while she trails her fingers through the hair on my chest. It feels good, and not even in a sexual way. Lying here with her feels comfortable. “So, what happened when you were twenty-three that changed the plan for you?”
I breathe out a small laugh, remembering it like it was yesterday. “This goes back to Richie always seeing something in me that I couldn’t. Blossom Beach was, well, blossoming back then, and his business was booming. Opening my own construction company and hiring my own crew was his idea. Using the excuse that his crew was too busy to take all the work, he helped me get my business license and everything I needed to get up and running. He believed in me back then, and he never gave up on me. Even when he had to retire a few years later because of his back and Teresa had to go from part time to full at the school, he was always there to help me get my business on the right track. I owe Richie all the credit for how far I’ve come. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have made the jump.”
“That’s an incredibly touching story.” Grace cups the side of my face, pressing a short kiss to my lips before resting her head on my chest. Falling silent for a minute, I can tell there’s more she wants to know. “Has there been anybody since Nicolette?” she finally asks, barely above a whisper.
I’ve been waiting for her to bring dating up, and I’m surprised she’s waited as long as she has.
“No,” I murmur before adding, “At least not in any way other than physical.”
“Like friends with benefits?”
Thinking about it for a moment, I shake my head. “I wouldn’t call it that. Friends with benefits, to me, implies a continuous arrangement. I can count on one hand the number of women I’ve slept with more than once or twice over the years. And while they’re all wonderful women and probably great friends to have, I wouldn’t consider us friends .”
“Wow.” Grace giggles, peering up at me, humor dancing in her gaze. “Little callous, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think.” My eyebrows pinch as I huff out a chuckle. “It’s the truth. Not everybody needs to be a friend, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect and care for them as people.”
“What about me?” she asks, lip curling up on one side.
Brushing a strand of hair out of her face, I smirk. “What about you, Sin?”
“Am I what you’d consider as a friend? Or will I become another woman on your count who you only slept with a few times?”
She keeps her tone light and teasing when she asks the question, like maybe she doesn’t care either way. Part of me hates that idea, and the other part doesn’t buy it, which is why I respond more truthfully than I normally would. “You’re more than either of those things.”
Schooling her features, probably hoping I didn’t catch how much that answer affected her, Grace giggles and rolls her eyes. “Right. Good answer,” she teases, tone full of sarcasm. Not giving me time to respond, she jumps to the next question she has lined up. “Why’d you two split?”
“Who? Me and Nicolette?”
She nods, and it takes me by surprise. That’s typically not a question people ask. At least, not outright. If there’s one thing about people in a small town, it’s that they’re sly with their nosiness. They all want to know everyone’s business, but they don’t want you to know that. Aside from Davis, Sam, and Everett, I don’t think anybody else knows the details of the divorce. I didn’t even tell Cole the whole truth. But something has me wanting to be honest with Grace.
“Nicolette hated how much I worked. I think she assumed once we got married, I would slow down, but I had just bought this house, and Cole had moved out, so I wanted to grow the company and make as much money as I could.” I scrub a hand over my mouth, heaving a sigh, remembering how disastrous the end of our short marriage was.
Brow furrowed, Grace asks, “So, she divorced you?”
“No.” I chuckle. “I filed for divorce after I found out she was having an affair with her boss.”
“Oh, shit,” she murmurs. “I had no idea.”
“We didn’t tell people. And she wasn’t totally to blame. Yeah, it fucking sucked to find out my wife was sleeping with somebody else, but I could’ve been a better husband,” I admit. “I should’ve been there for her more. I should’ve made her feel appreciated and important. I won’t lie, though, finding that out stung more than I expected.”
Grace huffs out a breath and looks off to the side. “Yup, know what that’s like,” she mutters under her breath.
“Did Ethan…?” I thought I knew the reason for their divorce, but maybe there’s more to it.
She snorts. “God no. Although, there was a time I wasn’t so sure. Our marriage ended because he’s gay, but he respects me too much to ever do something like that. I know that now. Coming out to me wrecked him because he knew it hurt me. There’s no way he could ever do something like that.”
My forehead creases with confusion. “Then what do you mean?”
Grace’s gaze meets mine, and her brow wrinkles. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“Know what, Grace?” I rack my brain, trying to figure out what she’s talking about, but still come up blank.
Her eyes narrow as they take me in. “That Cole cheated on me,” she says casually. “You don’t need to play dumb, Conway. It’s been ages, and I’m over it, but I know you know.”
Sitting up and pressing my back to the headboard, my throat tightens as I shake my head and say, “No, actually, I do not know that, Grace. My son cheated on you? When the hell was this?”
Looking as puzzled as I feel, Grace sits up too. “Back in college,” she offers slowly. “What do you mean, you didn’t know?”
“I mean, Cole never told me that was why y’all broke up.” My heart hammers as I take in this new information. “He barely ever told me anything straight up.”
“But that night…” She watches me for a moment like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle, folding her arms over her chest. “When you drove me home that night and I told you that your son was an asshole, you said you knew, and that he was young and stupid.”
Then it hits me. The way she was drinking alone at the bar, the anger in her tone when she spoke about Cole, even the way she tried to kiss me. “ Like father, like son .” The words she spit at me before storming into her house smack me in the face, and suddenly, they make sense.
“You two fought all the time,” I say. “I thought that was what you were upset about. Grace, you have to believe me when I say I had no idea. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t have blamed it on being young and dumb. I’d like to think I raised him better than that. I’m so sorry that you thought I knew this whole time and was so flippant about it.”
She’s quiet for a moment, seemingly trying to process everything like I am. Everything about the night makes so much more sense now, and I feel like an idiot for not knowing. For not asking more. How different would the last fourteen years have been if I knew? Finally, she gives me a meek smile and says, “I believe you, but can we drop this? The last thing I want to be talking about after having sex with you is your son and the way he hurt me.”
The last part tugs at my heart, and even though I want to, I don’t press. “Sure.” Lying down again, I open my arm for her. “C’mere.”
We talk for a little while longer, but nothing nearly as deep as we were, before she drifts off to sleep with her head on my chest and her hand hugging my waist. I wish I could say that I’m quick to pass out too, but I’m not. My mind races for the next hour or so before I’m finally able to turn it off enough to get some rest.
I hate that I didn’t know.
I hate that my son hurt her.
She needed somebody to be there for her that night, and I was too stupid to see that.
Never again.