The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(84)

“Alright, whatever. Go to the fucking cemetery.” He turns his back and continues to stir the dinner.

Not wanting to argue with him—something that’s been happening more and more these last couple weeks—I leave the kitchen and make my way up the stairs to change.

I flinch, pausing midstep as the telling sound of a saucepan smashes against a wall.





Twelve weeks post-Elliot call


Megan: It’s early as shit but HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY queen!!

Nina: The kids want to call! Answer your phone birthday girl!

Mase: Have a good one Luce Mum: Happy birthday darling! Let us know when you’re up xxxx Polly: Happy Birthday Lucy Elliot: Not a thing Not a thing.

Maxwell: I’m sorry I can’t be there. I’ll make this up to you, okay Maxwell: Call me when you get this.

My cosmopolitan is ice cold against my hand, but I welcome the sharp sting as it cools the burning that wraps from my wrist around to my thumb.

Dropping my phone to the bar, I consider who to reply to.

Home or Maxwell.

I swipe up, discarding the message screen as I take a large gulp of my drink. Maybe I could go to the chapel. It’s been days since I’ve been.

Maybe I should go home.

I shake my head. Birthdays are important to my family. We don’t get away with not celebrating together. Mum wanted to fly out, but I told her no. Nina wanted me to fly home, and I said no. I feel bad. It’s like I’m depriving them of something.

Days like today, I wonder if maybe going home is exactly what I should do. But then I get brain tip, things start to get better, and I go again.

Routine.

My bittersweet carousel.

I sigh and look at my lap, feeling ready to up and leave, when the warmth of two hands slip over my eyes.

My body tenses.

Goose bumps scatter up my arms, sending my back straight as the air shifts. And then I smell him, his heady scent bleeding into the very depths of me.

“Outta your head, princess.”

I grab his wrists, pulling them away and looking at his hands before I spin. My jaw drops, and without thinking, I jump down from the stool and leap into his arms, hoping the devastatingly handsome smile he’s wearing embeds itself somewhere inside my soul and never leaves me again.

My legs hook at his back, and he holds me, spinning me around twice in the middle of the bar. “Happy birthday, Luce.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.” He chuckles.

I pull back, looking at his face again. “You came to New York.” My hand reaches subconsciously to run through his short, silky blond waves.

He leans into my touch, his eyes closing. “Hmmm. It’s a miracle I lasted this long.”

A laugh breaks through, and I lock my legs tighter.

Elliot licks his lips and drops his heavy gaze to my mouth. “You look perfect tonight.”

My eyes flick around his face, trying to figure out if he’s real. I’m trying to hold back tears, and it’s messing with my ability to speak. “How did you know where I was?”

It’s as if the universe knew I needed him.

“Nina.” He grins. “You shared your location.”

I slide my legs to the floor. My hands linger on his arms, and I don’t let go, but neither does he. His hands are plastered against my lower back, smoothing over and over as if he can’t get enough.

My cheeks blush.

This was all I wanted.

Him here.

In New York….

“Do you want a drink?” I ask, my heart rate rocketing as what feels like the weight of the world lands on my shoulders.

He smiles right back at me. God, I’ve missed his light. “If you don’t have plans… could I take you out? I have a reservat—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, his jaw razor sharp.

“Take me out, Elliot.”

His face settles, the hard angles I love turning to the soft contours I adore. He watches me. Pain, guilt, and too much of everything, reflecting onto me. “Fuck, I missed you.”

He swoops in, his lips dusting the corner of my lip in a kiss that could be played off as nothing.

It is far from nothing.

It’s the butterflies in my stomach.

It’s the energy in the room.

It is the organ in my chest, beating loud enough to wake up my sad little soul.

“You miss me, princess?” he whispers.

I nod, my brows pulling in as everything we’ve endured over the last three months slaps me in the face all over again. I get the image of me on my sofa, his words breaking me. I wish he never did it. I wish we could go back in time. “You’re an idiot,” I mutter.

“No, I’m a fucking idiot.” He slides his palm from my shoulder to my neck, slipping around to hold my nape. He pulls me to him, kissing my brow quickly before pulling away. “Come on, I want to take you someplace special before I take you home.”

“Elliot, we need to—”

“Just…” He rolls his lips, and the look on his face tells me he knows. Or he thinks he knows. Truth is, I don’t think he has any idea. “Luce, for one night, please. It’s your birthday. Forget about everything else and do this thing with me.”

“I can’t—”