Chapter Three
Grant
I parked outside the steakhouse our family frequented for special occasions and wondered if it was too late to come up with a last-minute fire that needed my personal attention.
In my opinion, spending thousands of dollars on a meal to welcome home the perpetual prodigal daughter was insane.
Our parents were enablers to the fullest extent.
Kiyah would blow through town on a whim, and they’d roll out the fucking red carpet for her and have their hearts broken when she made a U-Turn right out of their lives again.
Kiyah Baker was selfish, entitled, and ungrateful, yet simultaneously beautiful, enigmatic, and larger than life.
I escaped to my office because I was worse than Mom and Dad.
If I saw her face-to-face, all those harsh feelings of disappointment and abandonment would dissipate and be replaced with hope and longing.
Pathetically, I’d beg her to stay—not for our family’s peace of mind but for me—only me.
Once, I made the mistake of telling her that if she’d ever loved me, she’d stay, and in response, she told me if I ever loved her, I’d let her go.
But it wasn’t that simple. I’d loved her for as long as I could remember—back when I used to tug on her long ponytails in admiration, when I used to scare the boys away under the guise of being the protective older brother, when we’d spar in the backyard, and when I used to do wild shit with her even though I was scared to death.
But for some fucking reason, my love isn’t enough for her, is it?
It never has, and she’s made it perfectly clear that it never will be.
I know what I have to do, but I’m afraid that once I do, all I’ll be stuck with are memories, empty promises, and a bottle of something that’ll make me temporarily forget—at least for the night.
Knocking at the window kicked up the corner of my mouth. My gaze slid over to Kieran, who had his face pressed against the tinted glass. “Big Bro.”
I gave him a lot of shit, but Kieran was endearing with a big heart.
He was outgoing, and in school, he was always popular.
He was voted “Most likely to run into a burning building to save a puppy,” while I was voted “Most likely to achieve world domination.” It could’ve been worse; I could’ve earned “Most likely to get expelled” like Kiyah and “Most likely to get away with murder” like Daisy.
Unsurprisingly, Kiyah was nearly expelled for being the organizer of an underground gambling ring in the girls’ bathroom when Dad cut her allowance as punishment for some shit she did. He accused her of behaving like a criminal; she declared she was being an innovative entrepreneur.
Imagine teenage girls in navy blue blazers, ties, pleated skirts, knee-high socks, and loafers shooting dice on the bathroom floor with their ringleader holding a handful of cash.
“C’mon… you have to say it,” Kieran begged with a playful lilt.
A smile erupted on my face before saying, “Little Bro.”
“Come join us at the bar. We’re still waiting for the girls to arrive.”
I huffed a breath of annoyance.
Dad can say “promptly” until he’s blue in the face. The women in our family will always be late, or at least cutting it extremely close. Hence, Daisy’s delayed arrival at work. But to be fair, she did get her ass kicked this morning. I can give her a little leeway.
“Did I mention that Dad and Uncle Ant are already buzzed?”
My brow quirked, intrigued by my youngest brother’s confession.
“Are they angry buzzed or funny buzzed?”
“Funny buzzed, but I can see the scale sliding in the angry buzzed direction soon if they don’t get any food in them.”
I guess I’d better get my ass in there and play referee.
* * *
Three drinks later, I was relieved the atmosphere remained festive and agreeable.
Ronan had arrived, stealing Kieran’s attention; Dad and Uncle Ant discussed sports, and Casey was preoccupied with his phone—locking down a backup date for the weekend in case the first one couldn’t make it, leaving me to drink alone towards the end of the bar.
“Hi. Is this seat taken?” I heard from beside me. I gazed up at the brunette stranger with striking blue eyes. She was objectively beautiful—gorgeous even—but she was no Kiyah Baker.
“Ye—”
“No. It’s not. Have a seat,” Casey volunteered. My head snapped in his direction, and the daggers I shot him weren’t piercing enough.
He’s not bleeding out of every orifice.
The rest of my family offered suggestive looks and smug smirks as if to say, “This is your moment! Don’t screw it up!” Dad’s expression was different—his eyes nearly pleading to make nice with her.
I held back a frustrated huff and kicked my chin out to the seat, allowing her to sit. I sipped my Moscow Mule as the men at the bar groaned and mumbled under their breaths about how hopeless I was.
I can’t even argue with them. I’m hopeless and more.
“Thanks. My name is Layla.”
I barely acknowledged her with a glance before offering her a brusque, “Grant.”
“Nice to meet you, Grant. What do you recommend?”
“You should ask the bartender. He’d know best.”
“What the fuck?” Casey murmured, chuckling into his drink.
“Yeah, I second that,” Ronan commented.
“This is too painful to watch,” Kieran whined.
“You know what, Jon? I think I figured it out,” Uncle Ant said. “I think Grant is asexual.”
I’m not asexual. I’m very sexual. I just… I’m not interested.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and caught a whiff of my father’s cologne. “Excuse me, Layla. I need to borrow Grant for a moment.”
I pushed the barstool back and followed Dad towards the men’s restroom.
“Dead man walking,” Kieran snickered, earning a smack to the back of his head. I smirked when he cursed.
Putting my siblings in their place brought me great joy.
We entered the bathroom, and Dad took a moment to ensure we were alone. He fixed his eyes on me once satisfied.
“Let… it… go.”
My brows knitted in confusion. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to be more specific than that.”
He smiled wryly before reading me my rights.
“It’s the same fucking song and dance with you every time Kiyah is in town.
You’re moodier than usual, and you shoot her those sad puppy dog eyes of yours whenever she’s not giving you the attention you so desperately crave.
I told you years ago to give up on your little infatuation. ”
Little infatuation? My father is sorely mistaken.
“She doesn’t think of you romantically, and she never will. You’re letting this… this fantasy that the two of you will be together prevent you from achieving happiness. A beautiful woman is actively trying to chat you up, and you look at her as if she had dog shit smeared across her face.”
“You’re exaggerating,” I said, just to screw with him.
“I can assure you I am not,” he responded sternly.
“Son, you’re handsome, wealthy, intelligent, successful, and moderately funny when you want to be,” he praised, softening his words before he drove his message home.
“Any woman would be lucky to have you—fuck, or man, whatever—but that’s only if you’re willing to open up your heart and give someone a chance.
This desperation for Kiyah… it’s… it’s not right. ”
“Are you done?” I sighed.
He held up a finger to my face. “You may be an adult, Grant, but you will not disrespect me.”
“I just find this conversation ironic.”
A puzzled crease formed between Dad’s eyebrows. “What’s ironic about it? Please enlighten me.”
I stepped closer to him, ensuring my words were heard loud and clear.
“I’m in love with Kiyah to a fault, but I’m not the only man who’s been desperate to be loved by a woman he desires.
I remember overhearing an interesting conversation twenty-five years ago between you and my nanny.
” He blanched, and his mouth parted in surprise.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was a little stuffy in my bedroom, and I opened a window for some fresh air.
I got my fresh air and a confession that you, Mom, and I will take to the grave.
So, spare me the bullshit because you let my mother die so you could be with your nanny. ”
“Grant, I—”
“I don’t need an apology. I forgave you a very long time ago. I was young, but even I knew Eliza was unwell. I lost my biological mother, but Kierra has always been the mother I wanted and deserved. So, thank you for that, but stay out of my business regarding Kiyah.”
Dad chuckled and placed his hands on his hips. “This is how you want it to be, huh?”
“If it must,” I retorted.
“When you’re done being treated like a punching bag by the woman you love, then you know where to find me. My door is always open.”
I nodded. “I appreciate it.”
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply when his shoulder slammed into mine before leaving the bathroom.
“Fuck my life,” I groaned.
Emotionally, blackmailing my father might not have been the right move.
* * *
I returned to the bar and stopped in my tracks when I heard a familiar laugh. My eyes zeroed in on Kiyah, laughing with….
What’s her name? Lyra? Lila? Laura? That’s it. No. It’s definitely Lila.
I lingered in the distance, unabashedly admiring the view of the woman who had stolen my heart for as long as I could remember.
She wore a wine-colored satin corset dress, exposing smooth, slender shoulders I’ve dragged my lips and tongue across more times than I could count.
The dress accentuated her perky breasts that I loved to bite, flaunted her narrow waist my fingers dug into when she rode me, and hugged the swell of her hips I grasped as I stroked her from behind.
Her usual curly hair was straightened and situated in a high ponytail, revealing a slim neck I thought about choking more than I cared to admit.
But her lips… her fucking lips were painted a deep burgundy that matched her dress.
I chewed my bottom lip, fantasizing and wishing it was hers I was chewing on instead.