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Her Irish.
Standing with her parents, in a pair of dark tailored pants and another crisp, white shirt. Her mom laughed at something he said and then her dad said something that made Irish smile and it looked as though they knew each other.
Before any of them could catch sight of her, Grace turned on her heel and walked straight back into the still-open elevator. Her heart was hammering as she punched at her floor, turning away as the doors closed her view of the lobby.
How did her parents know Irish? She wracked her brain, trying to think of a connection. Her parents were older than him by at least fifteen years.
Did her dad know him through work? What was it he said he did again? Something to do with being an agent in London?
Her dad never visited London. Scotland, yes. Paris for sure, but London?
As soon as she reached her floor, she ran for her room, as though her parents had somehow worked out where she was. Pulling her room card from her phone case, she could see she had a message from her mom.
Hello darling! We’re in the lobby. And guess who we bumped into? Michael Devlin. I don’t know if you remember him, but he’s Aunt Mia’s son. Anyway, we invited him out to breakfast with us. Hope that’s okay. Love you lots, Mom xx
The phone fell out of her hand, tumbling to the floor as cold blood rushed through her body.
Irish wasn’t a friend of her parents. Or an old work acquaintance they’d bumped into.
He was her cousin. And she’d just spent the night with him.
* * *
“Technically speaking, he’s only your step cousin,” Ella pointed out. They were sitting in a diner in midtown, where Grace had arranged to meet her afterthatrevelation. “I mean, you’re not related by blood, are you?”
“We might as well be. You know what my family is like.” Michael was actually her mom’s brother’s stepson, if you wanted to be correct about it. Which she didn’t. Damn her oversize, complicated family. “His mom and Uncle Cam got married before I was born. Her boys are part of the family.”
“He was hardly a boy when I saw him in the bar,” Ella said dryly. “And he definitely wasn’t acting like family.”
Grace groaned, dropping her face into her hands. If anybody found out about last night, all hell would break loose. She was the apple of her family’s eye. One of only two girls in a family full of testosterone-heavy boys.
A princess in their eyes.
“So what happened once you saw them?” Ella asked. She looked as though she was almost enjoying this, damn her. Not that Grace could blame her.
“I ran back to my room, messaged my mom, and told her I’d slept at yours. That I was completely hungover and I’d find my own way home.” She let out a long breath. “What am I going to do?”
“I still don’t get how you didn’t recognize him,” Ella said. She actuallywashungover, and Grace felt bad for dragging her out of bed, but this was a crisis and she didn’t want to go through it alone. Not when it was partly Ella’s fault for making her talk to him.
Grace grimaced. She’d been asking herself the same question all morning. “He left town when I was young. I don’t remember him,” she told her. “And I don’t think he’s been back to visit for over a decade, or if he has, it was when I was in France and I didn’t see him.”
“What about photos? Your family must have photos of him.”
Grace thought about her aunt and uncle’s gorgeous ranch house, bought with Cam’s NFL earnings. “All the pictures are of him as a teenager,” she said. “Not with the beard and the…” She gestured at her body and Ella nodded knowingly.
He wasn’t a man with a body built to make a woman go wild in those old pictures. In most of them, he was in his football gear, helmet on and helmet off. That part of her family lived, breathed, and died for football.
“It was good, wasn’t it?” Ella asked, looking almost human now that she’d swallowed some coffee. “Tell me it was worth it.”
Grace sighed. Because it was good. More than good. And yeah, it had helped put all those bad memories of Paris and Pascal out of her mind. He made her feel wanted. Alive. Like she was worth something.
He made her feel desirable, and it’s been a while since that had happened.
“Yes,” she said. “It was worth it.”
“So what happens now?” Ella asked, gesturing at the server for a refill of her coffee.
Grace sipped at her Americano. She’d already thought this through. She couldn’t leave now. She’d wait until later. Arrive in the middle of the night. That would have two benefits – firstly, it would seem more real that she had to wait until she was sobered up. And second, her mom would be too tired to ask questions. “I’ll rent a car, drive home tonight, and then I’ll get on with the rest of my life.”
