Katie dropped one hand to the slight swell of her belly. “I’m so sorry this all turned out so badly. I hate knowing Connor’s so upset.”
“Me, too,” Nicole said softly. “But it’s getting better.” And maybe if she said that often enough, it would even be true eventually.
“Well.” Katie looked around the redone kitchen and said, “Even though they sneaked this in on you, I have to say King Construction really does nice work. The kitchen’s gorgeous.”
“It really is.” Nicole’s gaze swept the room. “I know I should still be furious at Griffin for wangling all of this, but I do love the kitchen. It’s exactly as I always imagined it.”
And every time she stepped into the room, she remembered the man who had arranged it for her. Nicole wondered how long that would last. How long would his memory be stamped on her house? Her heart? Depressingly enough, she figured it would be only a day or two short of forever.
Needing a change of subject desperately, Nicole said, “You still haven’t told me about Italy.”
Katie looked at her, reached across the table to take her hand and smiled as she squeezed briefly. “Right. Okay then, let me tell you about Tuscany…”
As Katie talked, Nicole pushed thoughts of Griffin aside and concentrated solely on her friend’s voice. With a little effort, she told herself firmly, every day would get better. And soon, Griffin would no longer be front and center in her mind.
She hoped.
*
“Janice,” Griffin snapped into the phone, “when Garrett calls, put him right through.”
“I always do,” she replied, and he heard the stiffness in her voice.
No surprise there. His assistant hadn’t been happy when he ended his vacation early. Especially since he’d returned in a mood that made Jack the Ripper look congenial.
“Fine,” he said, scraping one hand across his face, “just…bring me the plan for the museum job.”
“Right away.” She hung up, and Griffin set the phone back in its cradle with a deliberate softness.
If he hadn’t, he might have been tempted to throw the damn thing across the room. He felt like a man on the edge all the time now.
“Probably because you’re not sleeping,” he muttered. When he left Rafe and Katie’s house, he’d moved straight into a hotel. He hadn’t been able to stay there, right next door to Nicole and Connor. Not without going to see them, and that wouldn’t have helped a damn thing.
So for three days now, he’d spent most of his time at the office, and when exhaustion forced him to leave, he went to the penthouse suite at the Beachside. There he sat out on the balcony, stared into the darkness and wished he was with Nicole.
For all the good that did him.
There was no going back.
He leaned deeper into his chair and glanced around the interior of his office. It was practically a duplicate of his twin’s. He and Garrett had adjoining offices, with a bathroom, complete with shower, separating the rooms. A lot of times he’d found himself working around the clock and being damned grateful for a shower and a change of clothes here at the office.
Plush, burgundy-leather furniture dotted the room. Framed family photos took up most of one wall. On the opposite wall was a flat-screen TV, dark now, and a few awards King Security had been given over the course of the years. There was also a wet bar for entertaining clients. Back in the day, he and Garrett would be shouting back and forth between their offices, laughing, talking about the job.
But Garrett was with his wife, and all Griffin had was an overdose of silence.
His business was in great shape. It was only his life that sucked at the moment.
But that could change. All he had to do was pick up the phone and make a call. He could lose himself on a succession of dates at five-star restaurants with gorgeous women. He could reclaim the life he knew and let go of the whole maturity thing.
“Mature’s overrated anyway,” he muttered. “Let Garrett and the others do the one-woman thing. Somebody’s gotta pick up the slack.”
He actually reached for the phone before he stopped and let his hand fall to his desk. He wasn’t interested in a date. Hell, he wasn’t even interested in finding a new home, now that his Realtor had sold his condo.
Nothing interested him, and that was the truth.
Not a new house. Not a job. Nothing.
Which only fed the frustration and anger swimming through him.
His office door flew open and crashed into the wall behind it. Griffin jumped to his feet and faced his cousin.
“Rafe, what the hell?”
Rafe King stood in the doorway, feet braced and hands curled into fists. “I want to know why you screwed everything up so badly that all my wife does is tell me to kick your ass.”
Griffin looked past his cousin at Janice. His assistant stood by, shaking her head, without the slightest hint of surprise on her face. That came, he supposed, with experience working with the King family. Tempers were fast and volatile and usually drained away just as quickly.
As for Griffin, he wasn’t surprised to see his cousin, either. Hell, he’d been expecting Rafe for days now. Might as well get it over with.
“At least close the damn door.”
Rafe did, then turned back to him. “What the hell, dude? Nicole? You had to go there? Really?”
Rafe’s temper had already eased back enough that punching didn’t seem to be on the menu. A shame, really. Griffin could have used a good fight to blow off steam. Instead, still irritated, still frustrated, Griffin came around his desk and leaned back to sit on the edge. “Didn’t plan it that way.”
“Well, of course not,” Rafe said, perching beside him. “Clearly there was no plan at all. Would’ve been good, though.”
“Yeah, would’ve.” Griffin glanced at his cousin. “Tell you the truth? Don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Rafe admitted. “The minute I met Katie, I couldn’t think of anything but—” He stopped and shrugged. “You know.”
“All too well,” Griffin admitted, then asked, “Did Lucas tell you the story of Nicole’s kitchen?”
“He did.” Rafe frowned. “Moron’s lucky Nicole didn’t sue him. Us.” He shook his head. “You can’t just ignore a customer’s signed contract, you know?”
“Wasn’t his idea,” Griffin told him and felt a twinge of guilt for the crap Lucas had no doubt been getting from Rafe. “That’s on me, too.”