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“And you’re still determined to stay?” The question seemed nonchalant on the surface, but Greyson mulled it over for a moment before replying.
“I like it here.” It was a deceptively simple answer. It was the absolute truth, of course . . . but there were so many complex emotions underlying those four words, and he knew she knew it.
“If that’s the case, you’re going to need a new house. And you really can’t keep driving a rental car,” she said after a loaded silence, and he nodded.
“After Tina moves. Harris asked me to look out for her. Can’t do that if I’m living elsewhere.”
Her face reflected her surprise at the words, and he held her stunned gaze unflinchingly.
Libby tilted her head assessingly. To say that Greyson’s response had shocked her would be an understatement.
“Why would he do that?”
Greyson sighed heavily. He was still sitting on the sofa, with his elbows resting on his spread knees and his hands clasped loosely between his legs. He fixed his gaze on those hands, and Libby stared at his bent dark head as she waited for his response.
“We’ve worked through a lot of stuff, and I regret that he and I were never close. We never seemed to have much in common, and when I . . . when I . . .” He lifted his face, and the despair in his eyes made her flinch in reaction. He looked absolutely ravaged. “He’s my brother. I love him. I did and said stupid, unforgivable things, and he made damned certain I suffered for my sins. Do you know he sent me a picture of Clara every single day for four months?”
“He did?” Libby asked on a whisper, sitting down again. Clara had dozed off in her carrier.
“Every day. I began to dread the chime of my phone, while eagerly anticipating it. She was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen, and I loved her fiercely. Those pictures, they saved me in ways you can’t possibly imagine. They were the only ray of light during my darkest days. Harris had no idea how much that meant to me . . . he did it to punish me. But it saved me.”
“I don’t understand,” Libby whispered, keeping her voice low, both because Clara was sleeping and because Greyson looked like any loud sound would spook him right now.
“I apologized to him. And I guess, because we’re kind of stuck with each other, he forgave me. And we . . . we’ve become friends, for lack of a better word. He’s in love with Tina and concerned about her. She has nightmares, and he asked me to watch out for her. So I’m sticking close to make sure I can keep a promise to my brother. It’s the least I can do after everything that has happened.”
“When did you start calling her Tina?” Libby asked when he seemed to run out of steam, and his brow furrowed as he considered her question.
“A couple of weeks ago. She asked me to stop calling her Martine.”
While Libby had spent her days trying to figure out how the hell she felt about this man, it seemed that everyone around her had gone and befriended him. She wasn’t certain what her feelings were about that. But at the same time, when she looked at him, at the lost, vulnerable—almost beseeching—look on his face, it was hard to resent it. Greyson needed friends; he needed to belong. She had never really understood that because he had always seemed so damned self-sufficient.
It was a role she had always wanted to play in his life . . . friend, confidante, lover. But if she could not be friend or confidante, then she wanted someone else to be that for him. Her mind shied away from the thought of him eventually finding someone to fulfill the role of lover . . . but she knew, with the divorce, that would be inevitable as well. He was a healthy, good-looking man, and if they were going to live in the same town, she was going to have to prepare herself for that eventuality.
For some reason Alix, the gorgeous single mother in her yoga class, sprang to mind, and she immediately shoved that deeply disturbing notion from her mind.
Hell no! He’d better not go there. Ever.
Her eyes drifted to his clasped hands, to where his wedding band gleamed on his finger, and she was confused by her relief to see it still there. Her own ring was tucked away in a jewelry box. She knew exactly where it was but hadn’t looked at it in months.
“We should be going,” she said, and he nodded, getting up and lifting Clara’s carrier from Tina’s desk.
He followed them home as usual and waited while she went into the house and switched on the lights. She watched from the front window as he started up his car and drove off and hated the weak part of her that still wished he could stay.
