Beautiful Graves(40)

Smiling big, I reach a hand out to her. “Hi, Mrs. Graves. Thank you so much for having me.”

“Call me Gemma, honey. Thank you so much for coming! Dom speaks so highly of you. I’m glad to finally meet.” She grabs my suitcase and wheels it in. I try to protest, but she shakes her head vehemently. “No, no, you’re a guest. Now, come inside. There are refreshments and some warm-up pies before dinner. Dad and Seph are already arguing over the Red Sox. Your interference would be most welcome.”

“Shocker,” Dom snorts out. “Don’t worry, I’ll make them behave.”

The inside of the Graveses’ home is just as impressive and grand as the outside. All wooden floors, chandeliers, plush carpets, and upholstered sofas. As if sensing my insecurity, Dom presses a hand to the small of my back and drops a kiss to the crown of my head. “You’re doing great, babe,” he whispers as we follow his mother. “She loves you.”

When we walk into the informal living room, we find that it is empty. Gemma parks her balled fists against her waist and frowns. “Why, they were here just a second ago. Now, where in the heck did those two disappear to?”

She peers behind Dom and me, and her face breaks into another huge smile. “Oh, there they are.”

And then I feel it. A brewing storm. The small hairs on my arms stand on end, like lightning is about to strike. I want to fall to my knees and bend forward, dodge being electrocuted.

But I know it’s too late. That thunder has already struck me.

All it takes is for me to turn around.

I swivel on my heel. And then I see him.

Seph Graves is standing in front of me; only I don’t know him as Seph Graves at all.

I know him as Joe. My Joe.

My lost love and my downfall is my boyfriend’s younger brother.

The limb I’ve been missing these past six years.

He is here. In the flesh.

And he looks gutted to see me.



Every single one of the Graves family members is staring at me right now, but I can’t get a word out of my mouth. I’m thunderstruck, my face probably whiter than a sheet.

All I can do is stare at Joe/Seph. His face is all bricked up. A cold, icy demeanor I’ve never seen on him before. It makes him look unlike Joe, which I understand is an idiotic thing to think. I don’t even know him. Maybe that’s his usual face. Maybe he always looks like he wants to punch his way through a crowd.

Oh, God. I need to throw up.

“Babe? Are you okay?” Dom rubs soothing circles over my back, frowning.

I nod weakly, forcing myself to snap out of it.

“Yes . . . yes! Sorry, I’m Everlynne.” I reach to shake Mr. Graves’s hand first. I cannot process what he looks like. Tall, I assume, since I have to extend my neck to smile up at him. There’s a mustache and a cardigan, too, behind the blurry cloud of panic forming in front of my eyes. The only thing that seems to be on portrait mode, sharp as a razor, is Joe’s face.

“Hello.” Mr. Graves is curt. Nothing like his human ball of sunshine of a wife. “I’m Brad. Nice of you to join us.”

Nice of you to create my entire dating history.

Next, I turn to Joe. He is still looking at me with something between sheer indifference and confusion. I’m weak at the knees. Of all the scenarios I’ve run in my head about what would happen if we ever met again, this situation has never come up. Rightly so. This is torture. The stuff nightmares are made of.

I tentatively reach for his hand. I’m shaking. My palm is clammy. I feel like a prisoner who’s been caught trying to escape their cell. Our skins touch. I nearly jolt. His hand is warm and dry. Big. His eyes are on mine. Blue and cool and utterly unreadable.

“Lynne, right?” Joe/Seph drawls. The first words to come out of his mouth. His voice cracks through me like whiplash. He remembers. Oh my God.

“And you are Seph?” I ask pointedly, gathering my wits.

“That’s what my family calls me.” He is polite, but he’s by no means the same guy who kissed me six years ago like the world was ending. “Drive was good?”

“Sure.”

He turns to his dad, seemingly done with our conversation. “I’m getting a Guinness.”

“Make it two, punk.” Brad chuckles.

“Anything for you, D?” Joe/Seph asks, jerking his chin toward his older brother. Dom shakes his head, watching the two of us alertly. He must’ve picked up on the off vibes between us. “I’m saving myself for the eggnog. I’m trying to convince Lynne to have some.”

“Not in this lifetime, buddy.” I smile. My cheeks feel as stiff as clay.

“Why don’t we all get a drink? I’m sure Lynne could use a glass of something too.” Gemma herds us all into the kitchen.

I can’t stop myself this time. “It’s Everlynne. Or Ever. Dom’s the only one who calls me Lynne, really.” I don’t know why I’m telling them this. It’s not like this would win Joe over. And it’s not like there’s anything to win over. I’m with his brother now. Case closed.

And then it hits me. I slept with his brother. I slept with two brothers, six years apart. They make up 66.67 percent of my sexual partners. Since the only other partner I’ve slept with was Sean.

I guess you could say you’re a Graves digger, I hear Pippa cackling in my head. Pippa. I want to call and tell her what I’ve just found out. I need her advice.