CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Blue
A fire burns brightly in a massive fireplace in the sitting room that’s larger than my entire apartment. I’m cozy, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand. I scroll through the pictures Cherry sent me of Lilith spread out on the couch at her house.
Lilith has spent enough time with Cherry and Xavier to settle right in at their house. It’s definitely cozier than my apartment.
Garrick sits in a leather armchair within spitting distance of my seat, a mug in his hand, Barry at his feet, his gaze on the fire.
Everyone else has gone to bed, finally. They’re a lot. Talking over each other, teasing, and laughing. There were a ton of inside jokes I didn’t understand and talk about the business was sprinkled in like they were discussing the weather.
Garrick was quiet throughout, laughing sometimes, but mostly just watching everyone. He’s quiet now, and I’m not sure I want to interrupt his thoughts and bring that intense gaze on me.
I’m still up because his mother showed us the bedroom we’ll be sharing before dinner. There’s only one bed. I’m not eager to be in a room with a bed alone with Garrick.
I have no idea why he’s still up. I was kind of hoping he’d head up first and be asleep by the time I crept into bed.
Maybe I should sneak up and go to sleep, spread out on the bed like a starfish, but I’m too wide awake. Too energized by hanging out with people who don’t expect me to be professional all the time just because I’m the mayor.
“Your family’s a lot nicer than I expected based on you needing me as a buffer,” I say when I can’t take the silence a moment longer.
He looks over at me like he’s forgotten I’m here. “Yeah, they’re, uh…” He rubs a hand over his face. “Let’s just say they’ve mellowed out in a big way since the last time I saw them.”
“Your mom did mention she’s sorry you didn’t come back to work in the family business after college.”
He snorts. “More like they wanted to keep me where they could see me so I didn’t make too big a mess of my life.”
“Or.” I hold up a finger. “Just playing devil’s advocate here, but maybe they love you and want to be close to you.”
He stares into the fire. “Maybe.” He leans back in his seat and crosses one leg over the other, setting his mug on the small table next to his chair. He looks over at me and there it is, the intensity of his gaze pinning me to the couch cushions. “What kind of kid do you think I was?”
That question is out of left field. Except, I’ve been thinking about it a lot today. Especially after meeting his niece and nephew, who are adorable mini versions of their mother, Maisey. They have Maisey’s eyes, which are also Garrick’s eyes.
As a kid, I dreamed of a family like this. One with loving parents and a whole gang of kids who could be each other’s best friends when life got tough, who could look out for each other.
Maybe I wanted to have help taking care of Peach or maybe I saw some movie that idealized big families. Wherever it came from, the reality for the Riverton family seems like a wonderful dream.
I can’t imagine how Garrick walked away from them.
“I think you were a kid who had everything you ever needed and wanted. I think you spent as much time as you could outside. You did alright in school. You didn’t flunk, but you didn’t work too hard because you had a career path all lined up for you if you needed it. I think you dated whoever you wanted, but didn’t get serious about anyone.” His expression hasn’t changed, and it occurs to me this might be too brutally honest for a guy I have to share a room with tonight. “You had a good, safe life with an amazing family, Garrick. That’s all.”
He’s staring at me, but he doesn’t seem offended. “And you didn’t.”
I’m thrown. “What gives you that idea?”
He looks back at the fire. “As much as I’d like to pretend I’m just that perceptive, Demon, we live in a small town with people who love to gossip.”
I relax a bit. “Ah, you’ve heard the stories about my mother.”
He nods. “And you think I had a great life here and just threw it all away because I didn’t appreciate what I had?”
“Pretty much.” That’s not entirely true. “But it doesn’t make sense, because you aren’t that guy in Yuletide. You’re loyal to your friends and employees. You’re a charmer, but even when you’re being a grumpy asshole, people just seem to want to be around you.”
He gets up and comes over to sit next to me, his back against the armrest, one leg curled on the couch. He looks tired in a way I didn’t notice before, drawn, like the day has taken everything out of him. “Maisey is three years younger than me. She’s the baby of the family, and when I was six, she got sick. She has diabetes and her illness, rightfully, took a lot of attention from me in a family where the attention was already spread thin.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks at the fire. “I never doubted my parents loved me, but I resented the attention Maisey got. I didn’t handle it well, and I acted out. At home and at school.” He grins wryly. “I was a selfish little shit.”
“You were six.”
He nods. “But I was still acting out at ten, even when Maisey’s meds got figured out and she got a service dog and everyone relaxed a bit. To my family, I became the troublemaker, the one to worry about. My parents tried to rein me in and I pushed harder against the restraints.” He shrugs. “Maybe it was just my genetic make-up or maybe it was everything that had happened, but I embraced my role as troublemaker. It was mine. No one else in the family had more fun or caused more chaos than I did.” His eyes light as he grins at me. “But then I went to college, and I figured out what I wanted to do and everyone just assumed I’d screw it up majorly or that me wanting to build my own business was me being irrational and rebelling just for the sake of being difficult. I had to get away to figure out who I am. I had to fail or succeed on my own merits.”
“Except you could have come back here if you failed. You could have lost everything and your family would have opened their arms to you.” I’m always honest, even a bit blunt at times, but this feels too revealing, even for me. Still, I can’t seem to stop.
He straightens in his seat, brow furrowed. “And they would have labeled me a failure on top of everything else. I would have had no option but to work for my family.”
I nod, because I do understand how suffocating family expectations can be and I don’t know his family, not really. But… “You know what would have happened to me if I started a business and failed? If I put everything I had into some big dream and I lost everything, I’d have no one. There wouldn’t be a single person I could impose on to give me a safe place to land. I have a mother who often needs to borrow money from me just to avoid ending up homeless and a sister who—” I remember where I am and pinch my lips shut. Garrick doesn’t need or want to know all of this and I certainly don’t need to give him gossip fodder about Peach. I just want him to understand how good he has it.
His frown makes it clear he doesn’t like what I’m saying. “I’m completely aware of my privilege, Demon. It doesn’t change the fact that my family has one idea of who I should be and they’re never going to see me clearly enough to accept I’m not that screw-up anymore. Money doesn’t make people easier to get along with.”
I can’t even with this guy. “And no money sure as hell doesn’t make things easier. All I’m suggesting is maybe you should cut your family some slack. It might be annoying that they have an unrealistic view of who you are, but at least none of them calls you at midnight to bail them out of jail because they got caught shoplifting again.”
He stands and stalks to the fire, his hands fisted, his jaw rigid. “It’s late. We should go to bed.”
I walk over to him and put a hand on his arm. The fire is blazing, and it’s almost painful to stand so close to its heat. “I do understand what it’s like, Garrick. My mother sent me away to boarding school to try to make me toe the line. I’m never going to be the daughter she wants. I know how it feels to be rejected over and over again by your own blood. What I don’t know is what it’s like to have a big, warm family that’s so clearly full of love.” My gut is telling me to drop this and walk away, but he looks down at me and the vulnerability in his eyes makes me want to connect with this man who’s been my enemy for so long. “I’m jealous of your family, Garrick. And I may have spoken more bluntly than I should have because I think you’re throwing away something I’d pay every cent I have for.”
His expression softens, and he snorts. “Have you ever not spoken bluntly?”
“I usually reserve white lies and tact for people I don’t think can accept the truth. I thought you could take it.”
“Sensitive topic.” He shifts, so he’s facing me, just a breath of space between us.
I’m not blind. I’ve noticed just how good looking Garrick is. I just spent half an hour in a truck with him, his masculine, woodsy scent filling my nose. I’d be lying if I said my thoughts of him have remained PG.
But nothing could have prepared me for how it feels to be this close to him with him looking down at me with a hungry, needy expression.
Why is he looking at me like that?
He reaches out and cups my cheek, leaning forward. In a soft, sexy voice, he says, “I call dibs on the bed.”
I’m so dazed, I don’t move as he rushes from the room. It takes three full seconds for my body and brain to accept I’m not getting kissed before I spin on my heel and sprint after him.