Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(46)

She lifts a shoulder, and I wonder what she has on under that robe.

"You don't have to tell me a thing," she says. "We can end our call and both get a much needed early night."

I drop my head back on the couch back and lift both forearms across my closed eyes. Hearing her soft intake of breath I know she's not as unaffected by her view as she's pretending to be. For that, I'll give her something.

"My mother died when I was seventeen." I can see she immediately regrets asking me, but she did and here it comes. "We were living in England."

"Hence the accent." She nibbles her bottom lip nervously. "I'm sorry about your mother, Trystan."

I nod once and sit forward resting my forearms across my splayed knees. And I look Emmy in the eyes. "Okay, here's everything. I'm going to go through it once, and then I don't want to talk about it again. They kicked my mom out when she was pregnant with me. After I was born, she went to England. Maybe to try and get back together with my father, I guess. He obviously didn't want anything to do with her. But he made allowances for me, his bastard child. She was set up with a sort of common-law alimony, though I never saw him.”

I take a deep breath. “When I was eleven we came back to Charleston. Got to know the family again. My uncle also had kids. I have two cousins. Beau was . . . I guess he was my best friend. But then my mother started having an affair with another married man—this one a prominent member of their country club. Let's just say, they weren't going to go through that again. When I was thirteen they kicked us out once more. I woke up one morning, and my grandmother said, "You and your mother are leaving." She didn't hug or kiss me that I remember. We just . . . left. Flew back to England. I was confused. Betrayed. Angry at Grandmother. Angry at my mother.” I frowned. “But she was my mum, you know? I loved her. Then she got sick. I wanted to come back here, but my mother told me they wouldn't care. They didn't come when she was sick, and they didn't come when she died. I vowed right then that they may as well be dead to me. I'd just finished high school, so I stayed in England where higher education is subsidized and got my degree. Then I moved to New York.”

I sat forward. “Right away I put a few warehouse buildings under contract, then I filed city paperwork to adjoin the lots. I officially bought and resold them in a simultaneous closing to an import company looking for a distribution center. I built myself up quickly after that. I had a knack for a deal I guess. Maybe it runs in the family, or maybe failing wasn't an option.

“The first time I heard a Montgomery was buying a building in New York City, I figured out it was my grandfather, and I quietly snuffed out the deal. I did it twice more." I rake my hands through my hair and let my head hang for a second before I look back at Emmy. "I thought maybe he'd ask to see me. Arrange a meeting. Ask me why. Something. It's not like I was hiding. I was baiting him. But after that, he never tried a deal again in New York, and he never tried to see me. And then the real estate crash happened. I lucked out. I was between projects, I lost less than most. But I knew he knew I was there. And I knew he was watching me. But he never, not once, reached out."

I took a few deep breaths and the last sip of now almost warm beer. The label was starting to slip off, so I worked my thumb under it, trying to get it loose. "My grandmother had made it clear to my mother when we left that she would never allow anyone in the family to communicate with her. With us. I figured my grandfather knew that, and that's why he kept quiet. His weakness in standing up to Isabel Montgomery filled me with . . . rage. But also hurt. I missed him. I missed them. I never stopped wanting him to reach out. I even toyed with maybe making the first move. But I feared I might be rejected. Again. Then last week I get a letter from his attorney telling me he died."

I exhale. Telling this story, even though it's short and brutal is untying something in me. But fuck, it hurts. I rub my chest.

Emmy waits, not saying a word, knowing I'm not done. Her eyes are large, glistening, filled with emotion.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, thankful I've taken painkillers. The label on the beer bottle still needs help, so I pick at it again.

"So the will. He basically gave me control of his company. He cut his other two grandchildren out of it, although it seems like they're fine with that. Except he wants them both to get married in order to get their inheritance. Not to each other," I amend quickly. "What a twisted request." I shake my head.

A faint smile crosses Emmy's lips.

"And I'm supposed to pay my grandmother a stipend at my discretion. Can you imagine more of a way to piss her off than not giving her the company that should rightfully be hers or my uncle's, and then make her beholden for spending money to a grandchild she despises? What the fuck was he thinking?" I almost yell it.

I sit back. "There. Now you have it all. I'm not sure this was a fair trade, but now you know everything."

"Wow," Emmy says after a moment.

"Wow, is right," I agree.

Just then the smell of dead fish and the funk of forty thousand years breezes across my nose. "Christ!" I grimace and turn my head, only to see a pink puckered butthole surrounded with white fur pointing right at me.

"Jesus! Fuck!"

Something screeches in surprise and flies right at me in a hissing streak of black and white fur, though I think it was trying to jump down and lost its balance due it its ungodly size. Swinging my arms out in self-defense, I accidentally hit the creature in midair, and it clatters across the coffee table, sending the phone, the empty beer bottle, and books flying all over the place.