Chapter Fifteen
THE DOOR CLICKED shut behind them, and silence rushed in.
Birdie’s pulse quickened again with her Viking in her house.
She shouldn’t be thinking about how big and delicious he looked, standing in the entryway, those intense eyes taking in her private space—The eighties hot-pink sectional with a riot of patterned pillows.
The muted lime-green walls and seventies orange armchair she’d found at an antique mall and had dragged home because it made her stupidly happy.
The paisley chaise lounge from Pier One that she absolutely had to have because the teal went with her grandmother’s dress in the picture she’d stolen from her parents’ house a few years earlier of the grandparents she wished were still around.
The brass lamp that absolutely did not belong to any of those styles sitting next to a midcentury end table she’d thrifted somewhere.
He probably saw her life as a visual argument of decades elbowing one another for space.
She dropped her bag on the chair, blurting out, “Welcome to my humble abode. I hope you weren’t expecting a theme. I decorate like I dress, emotionally and impulsively.”
He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “I like it.”
That should help make her less anxious, but it didn’t.
Her thoughts were still tripping over one another, negotiating a battle of lust and liability.
“Do you want something to drink? I mean, not alcohol. Not that I think you want alcohol or shouldn’t drink it.
Or that I invite people in and booze them up.
I have tea, and soda or sparkling water that tastes disgusting, so I don’t recommend it.
I bought it because some girl on social media said it was great.
I also have regular water, or—” Why can’t I stop talking?
She gestured vaguely toward the couch. “You can sit. Or stand. Or whatever makes you comfortable. Which is ironic, because nothing about this is comfortable.”
“Birdie,” he said calmly.
Forcing herself to slow down and take a breath, she met his gaze.
Her heart thundered, the air between them still sizzling despite her rambling.
Inviting him in might have been the bravest, or the dumbest, thing she’d done all week.
Now she was definitely too much, which she shouldn’t care about since anything between them would be wrong.
Right. Don’t care. Push those feelings aside. Come on, girl. You can do it.
Crew’s lips tipped up. “Nervous?”
“No,” she insisted. “Maybe. But not because I don’t trust you or don’t want you here. I do. I want to understand all of this. It’s just…”
“I get it,” he said reassuringly, and glanced around the room. “If you need a drink to get through this, please get one. I’ve never been a big drinker, and seeing you drink won’t make me want one.”
“Never? You mean since the accident, right?” shot out before she could stop it.
He exhaled loudly, but he didn’t look pissed. “Can we sit down and talk?”
“Yes, of course. Sorry. Take your jacket off and get comfortable.”
She took off her coat, tossing it on the chair. His gaze caught on her, his eyes flaming as they raked down her fringed suede miniskirt and thigh-high black suede boots. His jaw clenched tight, and he cursed under his breath as he laid his jacket over hers.
They went to sit on the sectional at the same time. Their eyes connected, emotions swirling between them, as dangerous as they were alluring. He lowered himself to the cushion a safe distance away, as if he felt the danger of the pull between them, too, and wanted to make it easier for her.
She tucked one leg under herself, turning toward him, struck by how different he looked. She didn’t think it was possible for him to be more handsome than he was when they’d met, but the shorter haircut stripped away any hint of softness. He looked edgier, more intense.
Even more irresistible.
“Are you sure you don’t want some water or coffee or something?”
“I’m sure. I’m just trying to figure out where to start.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. When he turned his head to look at her, his eyes weren’t just regretful. They were soulful.
She felt bad about spouting off at him outside and had the urge to move closer, to comfort both of them, but she knew it was important to keep a clear head, and that would be impossible if she was too close. “I’m sorry if what I said earlier sounded mean.”
“Birdie, despite how it looks, honesty is important to me. I always want you to say what you feel, no matter how it comes out.”
She breathed a little easier. “Well, that’s good, because I’m not great at cushioning things.”
“I remember,” he said fondly. “That’s one of the things that I really like about you.
But there’s a lot you don’t know about me, and I don’t want you trying to fill in the gaps with what you think might have happened.
I want you to know the truth. You asked about my drinking.
The night we met, when I said I like to keep my wits about me, that wasn’t because of the accident.
That’s who I’ve always been. Who I’ve always had to be.
” His gaze dropped to his hands. “Or at least since Robbie died and my mom left.”
“Your mom left?” she asked with a stab of sorrow, remembering what he’d told her. My mom survived, but the mother I knew didn’t.
“Yeah. She blamed herself for Robbie’s death and tried to kill herself a few months later. She took a bunch of pills, but my father found her before it was too late.”
That stab of sorrow turned to a full-on ache. “Oh, Crew, that must have been terrifying.”
“It was. After that, they fought all the time. I didn’t realize it then, because I was just a kid, but my mom was so depressed, and I don’t think she wanted to get help.
My father had changed after we lost Robbie, but things got worse.
He lost his patience at the littlest thing, which I guess is understandable.
He’d lost a son, and he was losing his wife, too, but I learned really quickly not to cause any trouble. ”
Sadness bubbled up inside her. “That must have been awful for all of you.”
“It was pretty messed up. Eventually my mother moved back to Nebraska, where she’s from.”
“Did she get help?”
“I don’t know. We never talked about it, but if she did, it didn’t work. Between school and sports, I didn’t see her much, and when I did, she could barely look at me.”
“Because she felt so guilty?”
“I’m sure that’s a big part of it.” His gaze fell to his hands again. “But I also think I’m too painful a reminder of the son she lost.”
Birdie’s heart was breaking. She leaned closer, unable to stay away, and touched his shoulder. “That’s a lot to put on a kid, a horrible cross to bear.”
“It is what it is,” he said evenly. “My father put me in therapy for a while, and it helped me deal with losing Robbie and understanding my mother’s depression.
But at home, I was trying to fall into line in every way possible to make things easier for my father, and I always fell short in his eyes. ”
He fisted one hand, rubbing it with the other.
“I was careful not to make waves. I cleaned up after myself, asked for nothing, got good grades, excelled at rugby, and learned to play golf, because that’s what my father played, and I wanted that connection.
I went to college, played sports, and even then, as I said, I wasn’t a drinker.
My father always stopped at two, and I figured, he owns a successful wealth management firm and has a country club full of friends, so I followed in his footsteps. ”
“I thought you said you two weren’t close?”
“We’re not, but we used to be,” he said tightly.
“I went to work for him after college, and a few years in, we were at the club, and he introduced me to his colleague’s daughter.
Divinia was smart, beautiful, cultured, and classy enough to glide through the elitist world I used to hold in such high esteem.
” Tension mounted in his voice as he rattled those things off.
“Eventually we got engaged, and the week before the wedding, she showed up at my place in tears. She said she was pregnant. I was shocked, because we hadn’t been overly intimate the last few months.
She was busy with wedding stuff, and I was apparently oblivious to what was happening right in front of my face.
She said she couldn’t marry me because she was in love with my father, and the baby was his. ”
Birdie’s jaw dropped. “Whoa. What?”
“That’s about how I reacted. I thought she was joking. We never fought, and I’d done all the right things, checked all the boxes for a successful relationship. Flowers on her birthday, fancy dinners, trips to wherever she wanted to go, because that’s the guy I was,” he said sharply.
“But none of it mattered. They’d been sneaking around behind my back for three months. My father didn’t even try to deny it. He said life wasn’t fair and that I’d get over it.”
Birdie was momentarily stunned, appalled.
His father was the only family he had left.
He should have been protecting Crew with everything he had.
She thought about how carefully Crew had kept his life ordered for all those years, doing the right things, not making waves.
And that woman? She committed the ultimate betrayal, but telling him a week before the wedding?
That wasn’t suddenly finding a conscience or bad timing.
That was a detonation.
The kind that incinerates everything he’d known and trusted.
The night they’d met came rushing back. What do you do when things get hard? I endure.
Birdie’s chest burned. Not with pity but with fury.