The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(77)

“Do you like to eat fish?”

“Yes, of course.”

He looked up and gestured to the dead fish as if to say, Well, here you go.

“I’ll step in if you need help,” she offered. “But I think you have it well in hand.”

He hummed in his throat and went to rinse the fish at the sink. She was suddenly reminded of what she’d been eating for dinner. “Wait, did you catch and cook the fish you’ve been leaving me every day?”

“Yes.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Who did you think was cooking your dinners?”

“I didn’t know.” She played with the buttons on his shirt she wore, unsure about this new side of Preston. “I assumed you were buying the meals at the hotel.”

“Didn’t you like them?”

“I loved them. Really, Pres. Each one was amazing.”

“Good,” he said and placed the fish onto a clean platter. “I’m not as skilled a cook as Alice, obviously, but I can make a decent fish dinner every now and again.”

He was being humble. Katherine had dined in enough fine restaurants to know Preston’s fish dinners were delicious, seasoned perfectly with herbs and sauces. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“My father.” A shadow passed over his face, like a bad memory had surfaced. “He loved coming up to the Adirondacks.”

“I can see why.” She glanced around at the huge, well-appointed interior. “This lodge is spectacular.”

“Oh, I sold the Clarke lodge ages ago. The van Allens bought it. I built this about three years back. I made sure it was bigger and in a better location than the old one.”

She had no doubt. Preston was the most driven, capable man she’d ever encountered.

Which led her to the one question she’d come to ask. “Why are you still here, Preston?”

He paused and lifted his head, his expression full of a promise she didn’t understand. “Why else? Because you’re here.”





Chapter Twenty-Three




Preston noted the confusion on Katherine’s face, so he resumed work on the fish, giving her a moment. In truth, he barely understood his motivations himself.

When the Pinkertons informed him of Lloyd’s engagement, Preston knew losing the museum property was only part of why Katherine had retreated upstate. So, he’d raced up here, fully expecting her to accept his apology, then allow him to comfort her. Everything would go back to the way it was before.

Only, she’d refused to see him.

I was in love with you and you broke my heart. It can’t be repaired.

Was, past tense.

The words ripped through him with a ferocity he hadn’t been prepared for. The knowledge twisted and slashed, opened a thousand tiny cuts in his chest, and he knew he had to fix this. He absolutely could not live in a world where Katherine was broken in any manner, especially when he’d played a part in it.

So despite the bad memories lingering in the lodge from his time with Forrest, Preston decided to stay and try to repair the damage he’d inflicted on Katherine in whatever way he could. It wasn’t much, but he would keep close until she was ready to talk.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her fingers absently playing in the folds of the shirt she wore. “There must be a mountain of work waiting for you. Or is Mrs. Cohen here somewhere?” She glanced over both shoulders dramatically.

He did have a mountain of work waiting, and each cable from Mrs. Cohen grew increasingly alarmed. But he couldn’t think about that now, not when Katherine was in his kitchen and they were alone.

He set down the knife and flattened his hands on the marble. “I’m not leaving you up here by yourself. You’re upset and hurting, and I know I’m partially responsible. For that, I’m terribly sorry, Kat. If I could do it all over again, I would. But I can’t change what’s happened.”

“Why did you do it, then?”

The answer was tricky. How could he explain the burning drive inside him, the relentless ambition combined with incessant fear? He barely understood it himself. “Because it was your father. Because of all that happened with my father. Because I can’t stand to lose.”

“Even when it hurts someone else?”

Leaning on the workbench, he gave her an honest answer. “I never had to worry about that before, possibly because I never cared about anyone the way I do you. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

“That certainly is convenient. You get everything you want, then realize how you’ve hurt me and beg for forgiveness.”

“I don’t have everything I want.” He paused to let that sink in, his eyes holding hers. “Not by a long shot, Katherine.”

I was in love with you.

He wanted all of it back. He wanted her smiles and laughter, the way she stroked his skin and made him forget every terrible thing he’d ever done. To hear the way her breath hitched as he first sank inside her, as if she couldn’t believe how good it felt.

He needed her to buy him paintings and tease him and recite the lists of everything in her head.

Her nose wrinkled as if she hadn’t liked his answer in the least. “Right. You want me. As a lover or mistress, or whatever we were to each other.”