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Blast.
How could he ever mend things, ever make anything right? He raced around the corner and ran smack into Judah Nunes. Double blast, the man’s chest was solid.
“Mr. Nunes, sir, I’m so sorry.”
The man folded his arms and took a step back. “I thought you were on a boat to France.”
Jay resisted the urge to slink. No one in the Nunes family slunk. If he wanted what he wanted, he was going to have to win back more than one person. Unfortunately, the one before him not only didn’t trust him, but probably wanted him tarred and feathered—after being boiled in oil.
“We both know I’m not going to France.” He matched the man’s stance.
“That’s a rather recent and late choice.” Judah eyed him. “Though I suppose that’s not my concern. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t try my patience, Mr. Truitt. I have a good mind to ask you to step outside.”
An image of Judah Nunes’ fist connecting with his chin floated in his mind. Painful, very painful. There was muscle beneath the man’s jacket and he wasn’t as old as he seemed. Truth be told, he deserved more than a few bruises.
“I recognize that, and it’d be justified too.” He forced himself to maintain eye contact. He would not be cowed. Urs deserved strong, someone who could battle beside her, a second. “Where’s your daughter?”
“Why does it matter to you?” Judah’s voice was flat, but clear even through the party chatter surrounding them.
Bernard was right, Urs and Judah were exactly alike. He wasn’t going to make this easy. Jay wrung the fabric on the inside of his pockets. Second, her second. He’d prove worthy of that title, he would. He gulped down air.
“I care about her. I care what happens to her. You and I both know that she shouldn’t marry Hugo, I mean—”
“You’re saying you know better for my daughter than she knows for herself?” Judah’s voice took on a dangerous note. He stepped closer to Jay, fists clenched.
Wrong tack, very wrong tack. This wasn’t about Hugo. This was about him and Urs and the life they could make—the life he’d work every day to give her.
“No.” Jay shook his head, over and over. “No. No one’s smarter than Urs. No matter what she does, she’ll be successful but—” He swallowed.
How could he explain? How could he convince this man or more, Urs, that they should be together, that he deserved her when he certainly did not?
Jay tugged at his collar. This was useless. The pain in her eyes when she realized he was leaving. He’d promised to help her and when he was given an out, a way to get around doing something difficult, he abandoned her.
A coward—worse than Hugo.
Judah sniffed and brushed past, up the stairs.
Jay stared after him. Why had he left his room? Why was he even trying? It was too little too late or worse he was never enough in the first place.
Judah’s back retreated and—no. He and Urs belonged together. They could survive apart, but they were so much better together.
He may not deserve her, but he loved her, more than anyone he’d ever loved, and he would spend every day, every bloody day he had left, showing her. And joy. He’d bring her joy. If there was anything he could bring to the table, it was that. Joy was easy because when he was with Urs, that’s all there was.
“Sir,” Jay called before he could think.
When Judah didn’t halt he repeated the word, louder. Jay raced after the man, taking full advantage of his long legs and stature. He scampered in front and held his arms at the top of the staircase, resting his hands on both bannisters, blocking Judah’s path.
“Sir, where is your daughter?”
“None of your concern. Let me through, Jay.”
No.
Disrespectful or not, this would be about him and Urs. He’d get to Urs.
“Not until you answer my question and with all due respect, it is my business, sir.”
Judah’s mouth was a hard line. A shadow crossed his face. Mercy, he looked like Urs. Sired or not, no one could ever question whether he was her father. Instead of fear, a warmth spread through his body. Urs. There was only one Urs.
