Park Avenue Prince(57)

Grace sat on the edge of the bath, her head bowed. I hated seeing her sad. I wasn’t used to it. I loved basking in her confidence and smiles, loved the way she’d wickedly flick her hips or cock her head to one side in a challenge. “Grace, I’m not trying to f*ck you over here.”

She stayed completely still.

I sat next to her, pressing my thigh to hers. Even though it had only been seconds without feeling her, it was still too long. “I’m sorry. This is just—”

“Too much. I knew it.” She got up abruptly and I grabbed her wrist.

“Let me finish. I know I’ve upset you, but you have to let me explain. Coming here . . . it’s brought up a lot of stuff for me.”

Her body went limp and she stood expectantly in front of me.

“Stuff about my parents. Things I never even think about because the memories cut like thousands of tiny blades.”

“What kind of things?” she asked, her voice neutral, as if she were keeping herself limber and ready to run in whatever direction would protect her best.

I wanted her to know everything, but I didn’t want to have to tell her, didn’t want to go through the agony of saying the words. It was why my friendship with Angie was always so easy. She knew, and always had.

“Being here reminds me of my childhood home. The place I lived before my parents died.” I took a deep breath, wanting to steady myself. “It’s just brought up some memories that I’ve spent a long time trying to forget.”

“You never talk about them,” she said, her body relaxing slightly against mine.

“I know, but it’s not just you. I don’t talk with anyone about this anymore. My parents aren’t ever coming back, so it always seemed easier to forget they were ever there in the first place.” I rested my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I didn’t want to do this, but she deserved to hear it. “When I think about what I had—everything I lost—the pain comes back.”

Her thigh brushed against mine again and she smoothed a hand down my back. It was such a gentle touch, but it ripped me open.

“I lost my whole world when my parents died. I felt like I was being punished for something I didn’t do, sent to jail for crimes I hadn’t committed. Their deaths were unjust and the consequences just as unmerited.”

She pressed her lips to my shoulder, soothing me with a simple gesture. She’d become so special to me. How had I let that happen?

“Forgetting about them was my escape. I never wanted to go through anything like that again—and I’ve made sure I haven’t. Unwittingly, I made a vow never to love anyone again.”

“But you care about me, Sam, I know you do. I feel it.”

I reached for her hand, still unable to look at her but wanting to reassure her anyway. “I do. But it wasn’t something I was looking for, and it wasn’t a choice.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

The last thing I wanted to do was make her unhappy. “Of course you should. I had no idea seeing Max and Harper’s family would bring back so many memories for me. And seeing you with them—you deserve the same kind of happiness.”

“You don’t want marriage or a family?”

Just the words sent my pulse spinning. “I’ve never thought that would be my journey.”

The silence between us grew, but neither of us moved until she released my hand and began grabbing at my shirt. “Lift your arms up,” she said, pulling the fabric over my head. “Here.” She traced my tattoo with her finger.

Wait and hope.

“That’s who you are. I know you’re an orphan, a victim, a child in mourning. But you’re an optimist, too. Don’t you see? The thing about the Count is that he might have had to wait years, he might have had to dig tunnels and fight pirates, but he finds his ultimate bliss at the end. Life is a storm, my love.”

Life is a storm, my young friend.

You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next.

What makes you a man is what you do when the storm comes.

You must look into the storm and shout as you did in Rome

Do your worst, because I will do mine.

“Storms will come, Sam, but I want us to face them together.”

I turned to her. “I want us to face the storms together too.” It was the only thing I was certain of. I didn’t know if I could give her a family, or a home like the one I’d had. But I could try.





I’d never gone fishing before, but now that Max and I were sitting in chairs on the riverbed, sipping beers and enjoying the fresh Connecticut air, I wondered why. “The peace is nice,” I said.

Max laughed. “Yeah. The house is so chaotic sometimes, it’s good to spend a couple of hours in silence.”

“But you like it,” I said. “The chaos?”

“Of course. I love my family, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still like to escape the crazy. That’s why we’re out here when it’s so damn cold.”

I glanced back at the clapboard house in the distance. The land Max and Harper’s home was built on led down to a river on a gentle slope. The leaves on the trees were gone, but their branches provided a chestnut-colored canopy over the clear calm water. It was a beautiful spot.