Chapter 23
Beyond exhausted, Nick stepped into the kitchen to find Arlo boxing up different sets of antique-looking drinking glasses. “Everything good?”
“Yeah.”
“You get roped into work?”
“It’s actually interesting and I hate just sitting around.”
Yeah, he’d known that, and it was part of the reason he’d hired Arlo for Berkley’s security.
He wasn’t just going to sit on his ass and do nothing all day.
But it was a quieter job than the man was used to.
“If you want me to rotate you out early, I can ask one of the other guys to keep an eye on things here the next couple days.” Nick would be taking over as soon as he finished up contract negotiations on a job that would be a game changer for his company.
He wanted to be the one watching Berkley.
“Nah. I’m not complaining either. I like Berkley. And she really knows her stuff. I offered to do this and promised not to break anything with my ‘big meaty bear paws.’”
He blinked. “She called your hands big meaty bear paws?”
“Not her, Clover did—and it wasn’t a compliment.
” Arlo chuckled as he continued packaging one of the flute-shaped glasses.
“And I don’t think she was being ugly to me.
I think she’s angry at the male population in general.
At least that’s the vibe I was getting.” He shrugged, then added, “I’ve got three sisters.
I know the signs. Someone’s pissed her off and I know it wasn’t me. ” He gave Nick a pointed look.
Nick just cleared his throat. “Ah. Well keep up the good work, then. I think I’ll just need you through the end of the week, but I’ll take over on Monday.”
“I’m fine either way. I’ve learned a lot more about twenties-era stemware today than I ever could have imagined, so there’s that. Oh, they’re in the front parlor room by the way.”
Nick stepped into the formal parlor near the front of the house and stared.
The room was a lot for the eyes to take in.
A massive floral rug covered most of the original hardwood floors, and peacock-themed wallpaper added to the rich riot of color.
Then there were the purple velvet couches, thick green velvet blackout curtains with gold braids holding them back to let light in, oversized art with people in various states of undress, a few Grecian busts, and so much color everywhere it felt like pure chaos.
He liked the actual architecture, but the decor was just too much.
By the window, in two jaguar-themed sitting chairs that had to be modern, Clover and Berkley sat wearing fur coats and drinking something that looked a lot like champagne out of dark yellow, vintage champagne glasses.
“What…are you guys doing?” He glanced between the two of them, then paused as they both dissolved into laughter.
“Talking about our wonderful brothers,” Clover said, her tone saying the exact opposite.
“Ah, so talking trash about us, then?”
Berkley focused on her drink, but snort-laughed before taking another sip. God, even her laugh was adorable.
“I plead the Fifth. Also, I’m keeping these glasses! And maybe this coat.” Clover stood and twirled around in it.
“It looks good on you.”
“Of course it does.” She sniffed slightly, then turned back to Berkley. “Thank you for this afternoon. I needed this. I’ll call you later?”
“Definitely.” Berkley stood and pulled her into a hug, murmured something that Nick couldn’t hear before his sister strode out of the room—while giving him the side-eye.
They hadn’t talked much since her big blowup and he wasn’t sure how to reconnect with her. He knew he had to make the first move but he wasn’t sure what to say. Other than to apologize again.
“We didn’t drink any of the real champagne from the collection here, just sparking grape juice,” Berkley said as she picked up the empty glasses.
“I wouldn’t have cared if you had drunk the real stuff. Clover is part owner too.”
Berkley didn’t respond, just made a hmm sound.
He followed her to the kitchen and took the glasses when she went to wash them. He started handwashing them instead. “So how was today?”
“Very productive. But I can’t keep my mind off everything.
Someone wants to hurt me, send me to jail, if not outright kill me, and…
I don’t know. It’s just a lot of not knowing.
Not having a face to put to the threat. But more than scaring me, I’m now just really, really angry.
” She slid the fur coat off and set it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
“I called Levitz today and he wouldn’t tell me anything.
Though he was pretty polite, unlike his jerk partner… and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“No. I want to hear about your day. I called Levitz too and he gave me the runaround as well, if it makes you feel better.”
“You called?”
“You don’t have to sound so shocked.” Instead of setting the glasses on the drying rack he started hand drying them because they clearly went with the set Arlo had been packaging up.
She winced. “To be fair, you were sort of a jerk to me anytime I saw you for the last year.”
“I wasn’t a…” He trailed off as that instinct to defend himself kicked in. He wanted to be better and being honest was the way to start. “I wasn’t the best.”
She snorted in agreement as she picked up a roll of packing tape to seal one of the already labeled boxes. “So…Henry told you I cheated on him and you believed it, huh?”
He’d already told her as much but apparently they were actually going to talk about it. Which was probably a good thing. “He was very believable.”
She let out a startled laugh. “Yes, he was.”
“He hurt you.” A statement, not a fact.
She eyed him for a long moment, the tape still in her hand.
“He did. Not physically. That would have actually made it easy to leave. Maybe he knew that, I honestly don’t know.
One of his exes came to me after the divorce, told me he used to slap her.
Literally slap her face when he was mad.
Never took it further, she said, as if that made it better.
And I believed her. I think he would have gotten worse eventually though. That stuff always escalates.”
“Jesus.” Nick leaned against the countertop, shoved his hands in his pockets. “I never would have guessed. The man healed people. Helped them. He’d saved Clover’s life. Not an excuse… or maybe it is. But I trusted him because he saved her.”
She was silent for a long moment, but finally spoke.
“Men like him—or people, I guess, but it sure seems to be a lot of men—wear very good masks. And yes, he was skilled at his job—and he had the god complex to go with it. Obviously I wouldn’t have married him if he’d shown me who he really was.
I blamed myself for a long time for marrying him.
As if I should have seen something he was actively hiding from me.
” She made a scoffing sound. “My sister called me out, asked me if I realized how dumb that sounded. And when she put it in those terms it was easy to see. He hid who he was, so of course I didn’t realize how awful he was. He didn’t want me to know.”
“I’m sorry you went through that.” And a very dark part of Nick wanted to ram his fist into Henry’s face and not stop. But the guy was dead. So.
“Thank you. When I found out he was cheating on me—on an industrial level apparently—it was so easy to leave. And I hated myself for needing that excuse, I guess. A reason that people would understand. Because leaving a man like Henry, who people worship…” She shook her head.
“In the beginning, he love-bombed me, something I see clearly now. I actually realized it about a year into our marriage when his facade started to crack.”
“You left though, and that’s brave.”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m still mad at myself for not leaving sooner.
Because I should have. I just thought… If I stayed, if I was, I don’t know, better, that he would change.
And then when it was clear that I was seeing the real him, the person he’d hidden from me, I should have left.
But I had been known as the screw-up Knight.
Or the wild one, whatever. I didn’t want to fail at something else, have everyone think, I don’t know…
that silly Berkley screwed up again. ‘Look at her, she married the kind, successful doctor and couldn’t even make that work. ’”
He shoved out a breath, hating the pain buried in her voice. And that he’d believed the lies without getting her side of the story. “Is it wrong that I’m not sorry he’s dead?” He surprised himself by actually saying what he was feeling out loud, but the words were out there now.
She blinked, then let out a sort of horrified-sounding laugh. “I’m not sorry either,” she mock-whispered. “He was awful in so many ways. Ways that I’m still learning about covertly from people.”
He could only imagine. Henry Moore had been a master manipulator. “Clover told me that he hit on her during one of her check-ups.”
Berkley rolled her eyes. “I’m so not surprised. He hit on my friends too. The man… You know what, screw him. I’m done talking about him, but thank you for listening.”
He nodded. “I’m just sorry I judged you wrongly.
That I judged you at all. My sister has recently pointed out to me that I have a history of doing that and I’m trying to be better.
” He wanted to be better. For Berkley, but mostly for himself.
He hated that he was carrying around so much shit from his childhood.
She lifted a shoulder. “We all judge things, usually based on childhood trauma.”
He raised his eyebrows, wondering if he’d said that last part out loud. Or maybe she’d just read his mind.
“Oh, I’m in therapy,” she said. “But seriously, so much of the shit we carry with us into adulthood is crap from our childhoods, even if we don’t realize we’re still carrying it.” Another shrug. “And on that note, want to get the hell out of here and get some dinner?”
“I would love that.” He wanted more than just dinner with her.
He found himself wondering if once this nightmare was over—and it was going to be over soon, he swore it—if he and Berkley had a shot at something real.
Because his feelings for her were growing every second he spent with her. And every second he was apart from her. Didn’t seem to matter if he wasn’t around her; she was all he could think about.