Third Time's a Charm (Holland Springs #3)(84)
“God Almighty, Sasha, couldn’t you’ve picked a better place to get up to?” Sebastian sneered in the mirror behind the bar.
Sasha rolled his eyes as his cousin took out a pristine handkerchief and attempted to clean off the sticky counter. “I’d reckoned there’s no better place than the one you wouldn’t be seen in.” He turned toward Sebastian and saluted him with his bottle.
“While I had assumed you’d be off to places more exotic for Fashion Day.”
“It’s Fashion Week, and I’m not in the mood.”
“Really?” Sebastian raised his brows. “There can be only one thing to keep you away from clothes or get you out of them—a woman. Or more precisely Rose Holland.”
“You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re about.” Sasha struggled to remain impassive. “But you do know where you can precisely shove it.” Slamming his bottle down on the bar counter, he motioned the bartender over and settled up his bill.
“It’s good to know some things never change,” Sebastian said.
“Sod off,” Sasha muttered and stumbled out into the freezing November night, leaving his arrogant ass of a cousin behind. He hailed a cab, muttered his address and leaned his head against the back of the seat. When they arrived, he slipped in the deserted townhouse and told himself that it was better this way.
No beast wrapping around his ankles and doing its level best to trip him as he trudged up the stairs and to his bedroom. No baby toys to dodge, or soft lullabies being sung in the middle of the night. No starfish-shaped hands reaching for him. No drooling mouth messing up another shirt, or breaking into a grin.
He certainly didn’t miss the smell of night blooming jasmine. Or the way rare smiles would make him feel victorious. Luminous blue eyes that could see to his soul were blocked from every thought. And he sure as hell wouldn’t think of how it felt to be inside of her, of how she moaned his name or clutched him to her. Of how much he loved being with Rose.
He loved Rose…Ivy, too.
Looking in the mirror, he shook his head, then shucked off his clothes. A cold bed greeted him. He paused, one knee on the mattress and took a deep breath. This was his life and he’d better get used to it.
Mercifully, sleep claimed him seconds after his head hit the pillow.
***
The worst thing about coming to terms with all the lies Rose had been told was confronting her worst fears.
She’d spent the afternoon digging through the charred remains of Strawberry Grove, hoping to find something worth salvaging. The only thing she found was a half-burnt chest of jewels and pictures in her room. No, not her room—Poppy’s room. A room so sacred that as a child she’d hovered in the doorway, watching her mother as she dressed for her dates. Every Poppy had inherited this room. Or so she’d been led to believe.
She had searched and searched for her beloved book. The one that had passed down from one Poppy to the next. The one truth in her life, the abundance of handwritten notes in the margins couldn’t have been forged. But she hadn’t been able to find it. Good thing she had the majority of it memorized.
Her shoulder drooped a little.
Only she didn’t want the memory, she wanted the real thing.
The sun dipped behind the horizon and she pulled her cardigan tighter around her middle.
In her purse she carried an envelope with a cashier’s check, one that would ease her conscience and free her from Harrison’s hold. No matter what kind of deal Azalea had worked out with him, Rose wanted the loan to be paid in full. The legal way, the right way. Every way that neither of her parents had chosen to use.
She pushed the first door opened and entered the bank. This time she let a small smile push at the corners of her lips. More than a few patrons and employees actually smiled back. Her hands shook and her stomach cramped. Maybe Sasha and Skye had been right.
Her father’s secretary looked her over and rolled her eyes. “You have an appointment?”
Rose lifted her chin. “Don’t need one.” She went inside Harrison’s office, shutting the door behind her.
Harrison glanced up from his work. “I’d figured you’d come by sooner or later, sugar.”
“This is for you.” She dug in her purse, pulled out the envelope and set it on his desk. “It’s the balance of the loan.”
He didn’t pick it up, merely looked at her with his cold gray eyes. “Your momma—”
“I don’t care what kind of deal the two of you cooked up. I’m paying back the loan. It’s done,” she said with a firm nod, then turned to walk out the door.
“She wouldn’t marry me. Though I asked her at least a dozen times through the years.”
Her hand froze on the doorknob. “Why are you telling me this?”
He placed a hand on her shoulder and she fought the urge to shrug it away. “I loved your mother, but she wasn’t content with just me.”
“You expect me to feel sorry for you?” His hand fell away and she turned to face him.
“I was there when you were born,” he said. “She ever tell you that?”
No, her mother had never cast Harrison Collins in any kind of positive light, which had made Rose wonder why Azalea had insisted on Rose seeing him. “What do you think?” She reached for her throat. She couldn’t handle any more confessions.