The Bromance Book Club (Bromance Book Club, #1)(85)

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    Gavin spent a long, dark night on one of the couches in Mack’s basement because it seemed fitting to have this whole thing end the same place it began.

Well, and because no one else would let him stay. Del and Yan both said he needed to face this one alone, Malcolm had other plans, and there was no way he was going to the Russian’s house. Who knew what digestive horrors awaited there?

Mack had let him in, handed him a bottle of whiskey and a blanket, and told him he’d cut off his balls if Gavin threw up anywhere but in the toilet.

Now he was awake, the bottle of whiskey unopened and untouched on the coffee table, and a pair of eyes he didn’t recognize were staring openly as if he were an exhibit in a zoo.

“Are you sick?” The little girl had dark pigtails and clutched a pink stuffed rabbit. “Uncle Mack says you’re sick.”

Gavin cleared his throat. It felt like sandpaper. How was it possible to have a hangover without alcohol? “Uncle Mack?”

“Yeah, he’s my uncle.”

“And you are?”

“Lucy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Lucy put her hand on his forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Your breath is kind of stinky, though.”

Despite the clanging in his head and the empty cavern where his heart used to be, Gavin managed to crack a smile. “I’m sure it is.”

“Uncle Mack told me to give you this.” She pulled a green apple from the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Gavin puffed out a laugh. “Where is Uncle Mack?”

“Upstairs with my mommy and daddy and my sisters.”

The clanging in his head became a jackhammer as a stream of sunlight broke through the blinds to the French doors that led to the backyard and pool. “Well,” Gavin said, sitting. “Thank you for my apple. Would you ask Uncle Mack to come downstairs?”

“Okay!” Lucy skipped away, leaving Gavin with a spiking panic that he’d been too rash yesterday. That he should have turned around and gone back the instant he left. That he should have just begged for forgiveness. But he couldn’t do that. Not anymore.

Thudded footsteps on the stairs announced Mack. He rounded the corner and smirked. “You alive?”

“I didn’t drink anything.”

Mack raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You have changed.”

Gavin dry washed his face. “I didn’t know you have a niece.”

“I have several. My brother’s kids.”

“Didn’t know you have a brother, either.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Gavin acknowledged that with a nod. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“When does your plane leave?”

Right. New York. As if he cared about any of that right now. “Couple of hours.”

Mack dropped into a game chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Leaving was a bold move, Gav.”

“Del didn’t seem to think so.”

“Well, you did sort of violate the number one rule.”

“Don’t talk about book club?”

Mack looked sideways. “OK, the number two rule.”

“Don’t let the Russian shit in your bathroom?”

“You weren’t supposed to re-create the book, smart-ass. We told you that.”

Gavin stared at the apple in his hand. “However this turns out, I w-w-want you to know that I appreciate everything you and the guys have done.”

He was a different man than he’d been before book club. He recognized his own faults and shortcomings. He was more confident in expressing himself. And, yeah, he was a better lover.

But it still wasn’t enough. Love isn’t enough.

“What’s your next move?” Mack asked, standing.

“I have to catch a plane. After that, I have no idea.”

The ball was in Thea’s court. All he could do was wait.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT




Thea awoke in the guest bed. Her neck was stiff from the awkward position she’d slept in because she’d fallen asleep reading. All night she dreamed in Regency England, but the people were real.

And when she woke, so was the shame.

“You want coffee?”

Thea glanced over her shoulder. Liv stood in the doorway. “Sure.”

Liv wandered in and sat down on the bed. “What are you doing in here?”

Thea stood and walked to the window. “You know what I did all night?”

“Smashed the wall?”

Thea managed a laugh. “No. I thought about Mom.”

“You’ve spent your entire life believing one version of the truth . . . Have you ever looked at things from your mother’s point of view?”

Liv reared back. “Why?”

Because backstory is everything. “Just trying to think about things from her perspective.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure she deserves that.”

“Maybe not, but automatically hating her for the decisions she made hasn’t exactly worked for me. Or for you. Has it?”

Liv stood. “Don’t go kicking over logs if you’re not prepared for what comes crawling out.”