Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(123)

“Really?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Connor...he still can’t tolerate me.” Her father’s eyes filled with tears.

Colleen reached out for her father’s hand. “Keep trying,” she said.

“I’m very proud of you two. I really am.”

“Thank you.”

Her poor father. Yep. Poor Dad. Emotionally strangled by testosterone and trying to be fabulous.

Nice that he’d been force-fed a dose of humility, and by Mom of all people.

“Want some ice cream?” she asked. “You can stay for the movie, too.”

He gave her a grateful look. “Don’t mind if I do.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THREE WEEKS BACK in Chicago, and Lucas was still edgy and irritable. Sitting at his computer in the apartment he’d lived in since the divorce wasn’t as rewarding as he’d imagined it would be. His desk was impressive, his Mac expensive, his chair comfortable. The apartment was immaculate, thanks to the cleaning lady who came in once a week.

But aside from the photos of his nieces and a few of their drawings on the fridge, the place was...soulless, and Lucas wondered how he’d missed that. The furniture was fine, the walls were off-white, the kitchen counters were granite. Everything was new and still rather shiny.

Not like the opera house apartment, with its hundred-year-old floors and the smell of bread from Lorelei’s Sunrise Bakery. And not like Colleen’s old Victorian with the tall, narrow windows and crotch-sniffing dog. And red couch. And soft bed.

Yeah. No. Best not to think those thoughts.

He’d left Forbes Properties for good; the only thing left was the building dedication, and who really cared about that stuff? Lucas was proud of the building and how smoothly it had gone up, but he wasn’t the architect, and he wasn’t the owner. He’d always love the Forbes family; he’d always stay in touch, but his time was over.

Steph would be working for his new company, which would finally get his full attention now. He’d already been approached about general contracting a senior housing development and a corporate headquarters on the outskirts of town.

But it wasn’t what he really wanted to do. He wanted, simply, to build houses for regular people. Steph rolled her eyes at this because of course the big money was in bigger properties—strip malls and shopping centers. But strip malls wouldn’t be the kind of thing he would proudly point out to a future son or daughter and say, “See that Dunkin’ Donuts and the Supercuts? Daddy built that.”

Not that he was going to be a father anytime soon.

The image of the meadow back in Manningsport kept inserting itself into his brain, usually around two in the morning. Where the porch would face, the way the deer would wander through the yard. How he could build a slate patio in the back so sitting out there, you’d hear the sound of the river that led to Keuka. The maple tree that would be perfect for a swing.

There was no meadow on a hill in this area; there was only flatness. And heat. Two months away, and the heat of the Midwest got baked into him like never before, and he found himself thinking about the nights in New York when it had been cold enough to sleep with a blanket to keep you warm.

Or a woman.

Or a woman and her dog, more accurately.

And then thoughts of Bryce and her would slice through that pretty image.

His buzzer rang, and Lucas got up from the computer. Crap, it was already dark, and he still hadn’t eaten. “Hello,” he said in the intercom.

“Hey! It’s Bryce.”

Speak of the devil. “Come on up.”

Lucas hadn’t heard much from him since the funeral, other than his shock that he was now a wealthy man. If he was smart (and Lucas intended to make sure he would be), Joe’s money could keep Bryce modestly comfortable for life.

He opened the door, and there was his cousin.

“What’s up, bro?” Bryce said, hugging him.

Bryce had brought a six-pack, which was a first. “Sorry I didn’t call. I wanted to see you. Just jumped in the car and drove to the airport, grabbed a cab here.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “How are things?”

They ordered a pizza (“Nothing like Chicago pie,” Bryce said happily) and opened a couple beers. Lucas listened as Bryce told him his plans for the future; he was getting his personal trainer’s license and was thinking about possibly opening a women-only gym (which would be a frickin’ gold mine, let’s be honest). Still washing dogs and finding them homes. He and Paulie were still together, really happy, having lots of fun. Didi was back in Manningsport and kind of a pain, always dropping by unannounced, but Bryce hadn’t given her a key, so at least she couldn’t come barging into his place at the opera house.

“Sounds like things are good,” Lucas said, clearing their plates.

“Yeah, so I might need you to free up some money from my trust fund,” Bryce said. “For the gym. I’m working on getting a business plan. Paulie and her dad are helping me, and you’re smart about that stuff. Maybe you could take a look?”

“You bet,” Lucas said.

“Thanks.” His cousin paused. “So about...you know. Colleen. You over that, dude?”

Lucas looked at his beer and didn’t answer for a minute. “Did it ever occur to you that...” He broke off. That I loved her, he’d been about to say.