Mr. Right, Next Door! Page 16

  The crowd seemed bigger on the way out. Sophie swore it had not only doubled in size, but stopped moving, as well. She craned her neck to see what caused the delay, but didn’t see anything. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. A flash of sand-colored hair on her right. A tingle moved down her spine. She wove her way closer to the booth where she’d spotted him. It was an antique furniture dealer a dozen booths down. His back was to her, and his head was bent as he examined a Victorian-era chaise. Didn’t seem like Grant’s style, but perhaps it was for his new job.

  She moved a little closer, excited to surprise him. Maybe she could convince him to grab a bite to eat on the way home. As friends. To make up for all that happened between them. It would be a good first step, and lay the groundwork for later.

  Three or four booths closer, she was about to call out his name. Her mouth had barely opened when suddenly a petite brunette sidled up and joined him. Sophie’s heart sank as the woman wrapped her arms around his narrow waist. No.

  The man turned his head, and to Sophie’s relief, she didn’t recognize the profile. Now that she looked closer, she realized the man’s posture was all off, as was his build. He lacked Grant’s broad shoulders and natural self-possessed carriage. Actually, the only resemblance at all was the sand-colored hair. Her mind made up the rest.

  Slowly her heart rate returned to normal. The clothing vendor’s advice came rushing back. When you see something you like, you got to act fast or miss out.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “PHILADELPHIA treating you well?”

  “Good enough. Saw the Liberty Bell.”

  “What’s St. Pierre like to work for?”

  “Eccentric. He’s the one who dragged me to the Liberty Bell.”

  “Okay, do you want to talk about it?”

  Grant looked up from his plate. “Huh?”

  “Whatever’s bothering you,” Mike asked. “Do you want to talk about it?

  “No.” He did not want to talk. He did not want to mention Sophie’s name. Sophie with her perfect, kissable lips and her age-appropriate companion who had dominated his thoughts for the past month.

  “Okay.” His brother shrugged and reached for his imported lager, the buttons on his navy blazer reflecting the glow of recess lighting. Only Mike would wear a blazer to a sports bar on a Saturday afternoon. His idea of casual dress.

  “Mom and Dad tell you they were going to France?” he asked instead.

  “They are?”

  “This fall. Apparently the idea’s been on Mom’s bucket list for years.”

  Terrific. Another woman with a bucket list. Grant stabbed at the ketchup with his French fry. “What is it with people and bucket lists, anyway?” he asked aloud. “If you want to go to Paris, just go. Why do people have to make a production out of everything by making a list of ‘someday items.’” He’d had his fill of goals and life plans.

  Mike set down his bottle. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I don’t like bucket lists is all.” Especially when checking off the items on the list means more than the people in your life.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Seriously.”

  “Then why are you smashing the life out of your French fries?”

  Grant looked down at the potato wedge, smushed and half-drowned in ketchup. Maybe he did need to talk, if for no other reason than to get the woman out of his head. Stewing alone in his hotel room certainly wasn’t working.

  “If you must know, it’s Sophie.”

  “Who?”

  “The downstairs neighbor. My former downstairs neighbor.”

  “The ‘cease and desist’ lady.”

  “Yeah, her.” He’d forgotten Mike didn’t know the whole sordid story. “Before I left town, we were—” he scratched the back of his head “—seeing each other.”

  His brother blinked over the rim of his glass. “You were? Last I knew, she’d ticked you off and you reacted very poorly.”

  “Let’s say I repeated the pattern.” Starting from the beginning, he laid out what happened, ending with the scene in Sophie’s office. “So I broke things off and took the job with St. Pierre.”

  “Ouch.” Mike swallowed his beer. “Relegated to dirty little secret. I can see how that hurt.”

  More than Grant thought possible. It felt as if someone sucked the heart out of his chest and stomped on it. Then stomped on it again when she called their relationship a fling and said Allen was the key to her future. He’d thought by now the ache would have subsided, but the more time passed the worse he felt. He missed her like crazy. Her and her maddening behavior.

  “I can see her point, though,” Mike added.

  Grant stabbed another fry into the ketchup. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Hey, I didn’t say I agreed with how she treated you. But there are companies out there that demand one hundred and ten percent. Personal lives come second. If her career is that important to her…”

  “It’s everything to her.”

  Tired of destroying his food, Grant sat back in his chair. Thing is, he hadn’t asked her to give up her career. He’d simply wanted to be on equal footing with her career aspirations. More than anything, he wanted to know their relationship meant something to her. That she needed him in her life the way he needed her.

  Instead, she picked Allen and her promotion.

  “I was kidding myself,” he muttered. Once again, he’d failed to see the truth right in his face.

  “Kidding yourself about what?”

  That she felt the same way he did. Whenever he thought about how he raced to her office, like an eager little puppy ready to share his feelings, he wanted to kick himself. “Nothing.”

  He could feel Mike’s eyes studying him. “Wow. You’ve got it bad for her, don’t you?” he said a few moments later.

  “Worse than bad,” Grant replied, washing a hand over his features. He’d never felt this intensely about a woman in his entire life. She’d gotten inside his head and under his skin. Dominated his thoughts to the point of utter distraction. He missed her smile, her warmth, her flawed interior. He must have picked up the phone a half-dozen times to call her only to come to his senses at the last minute.

  “You’d think I’d know better,” he said aloud. “The fact she shoved ‘cease and desist’ notes under my door should have been enough of a warning to stay far, far away.”

  “So what hooked you?”

  “My own idiocy.” Picking up his fork, he twirled his cocktail napkin, each turn causing the paper to bunch and tear. “Do you remember the doll Nicole used to keep on her bed? The one with the frilly blue dress?”

  “You mean the one you ruined with Magic Marker?”

  In spite of his bad mood, a corner of Grant’s mouth twitched upward. “I prefer the word enhance, thank you very much. Sophie reminds me of her. On the outside, she’s all pretty and polished, but underneath she’s got lines and scars like everyone else.” I used to wish I could fly....

  “Maybe more,” he added in a voice almost too low to be heard over the crowd. “She thinks she has to be this perfect employee. Like she’s afraid if the world sees the real Sophie, she’ll be some kind of failure. I wish she could see those flaws are what I love about her.”

  He paused. Love? Having never made such a declaration before to anyone besides family, he was shocked how easily the word slid off his tongue. Yeah, he loved Sophie. Had since that day they visited Nate. F
at lot of good it did him now.

  Across the table, Mike continued studying him. Instead of his usual no-nonsense business expression, however, he wore a strange, almost contemplative expression. “Fear of failure can be a pretty strong motivator,” he said after a moment. He raised his beer again. “Trust me, I know.”

  “I suppose.” But Sophie, Grant hoped would be different. That she’d want to be different.

  Why? a voice asked. Because he’d gotten her into his bed and convinced her to sleep in a few mornings? Talk about misplaced faith. No one was that good a renovator. Not even him.

  He gave the fork another twist. “You want to hear ironic? When I called her on her behavior, she actually accused me of being the frightened one.”

  Mike looked to his pasta carbonara.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t tell me you agree with her.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He didn’t have to. Annoyed, Grant tossed his fork down. It landed on his plate with a loud clank. “I can’t believe this. You’re both crazy.”

  Are they? a little voice in the back of his head asked, much to his irritation. Where there’s smoke there’s fire.

  “If I’m so afraid,” he said, challenging Mike and the voice, “why’d I take the job with St. Pierre?”

  Again, Mike said nothing, apparently still fascinated by his pasta. “I don’t know. Why did you?”

  To avoid Sophie. The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d been running away. “I thought you were glad I took the job.”

  “I am. I’m just wondering what made you reverse your position after two years hiding from anything remotely close to success.”

  This time Grant was the one staring at his food. “What can I say? I decided it was time to move on. You’re the one who told me I had to stop blaming myself for what happened to Nate.”

  “Have you?”

  No. Not really. Deep in his heart the fear he would become the man from the emergency room window still lurked. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever truly outrun him. Maybe if he had more in his life besides a job. Like Sophie.

  An unreadable expression crossed Mike’s face, one Grant had never seen before. “Look, I’m all for you finally letting go of your guilt. If you really are. If you aren’t accepting one painful reality to avoid another.”

  Grant arched a brow. “No offense, but you sound like one of those afternoon television psychiatrists.”

  Mike shrugged. “I just want you to be happy, little brother, and you haven’t been. Not in a long time. I’d blame Nate, but I’m not sure you were happy before that.”

  He’d been too busy to be happy, thought Grant. And then Nate had his heart attack and he’d been too guilty. Too scared.

  Except for the week he spent with Sophie. If every week was like that week, he’d be over the moon.

  Unfortunately, that ship had sailed and he’d helped launch it.

  “You should talk to her,” Mike said.

  “Sophie?”

  “No, the waitress. Yes, Sophie. It’s obvious you’re still nuts about her. Maybe she misses you, too.”

  Grant shook his head. “She made her choice.”

  “You sure? Like I said, fear makes people behave in weird ways. Some run away from work, others bury themselves with it. And some, didn’t know their lives could have more than what they already have.”

  For the first time, Grant heard regret in his brother’s voice. Perhaps the Templeton way hadn’t been as kind to his older brother as he thought. Could he have misread the signs with Sophie, as well?

  “You’ll never know unless you try,” Mike told him.

  What do you know? Turns out his brother might actually have useful insight after all. “Maybe you aren’t such a hard-hearted windbag after all,” he teased.

  If he’d underestimated his brother, had he underestimated Sophie, too?

  “Besides,” his brother added, signaling the waitress. “Since when did a Templeton not go after what he wanted?”

  Grant sat back. Dammit if his brother wasn’t right. Time he stopped running from things, and head toward them.

  * * *

  Gotta grab it. Otherwise you’ll miss out.

  The damn words were like a cadence the entire way home. Gotta grab it. Gotta grab it. Over and over until by the time Sophie reached her living room she wanted to scream, “I get it! The coat was Grant!”

  Okay, she’d let something special slip through her fingers. She’d mistakenly believed that she had to stay a certain course and that any detour was wrong. Her psyche didn’t need to beat it into her head. Besides, Grant was in Philadelphia. It wasn’t as though she could do anything with the lesson except log it for next time.

  If there was a next time. Grant really was like the coat. One of a kind and unlikely to be repeated.

  She flopped on her sofa, not caring if she was sweaty and disheveled. Grant had liked her that way. He’d wanted the Sophie with the flaws. A person she didn’t think anyone could want.

  And she loved him. Of all the realizations to hit, that hit the hardest. Sure, she’d said things like loved and lost, but it dawned on her that she really loved him. Like forever, I-don’t-care-if-you’re-twenty-nine-or-ninety-nine love.

  Oh, man, she was the biggest idiot on the face of the earth. Soon to be the loneliest idiot on the earth. As if she could be any lonelier. She already missed Grant like she missed breathing.

  Somewhere in the middle of her pity party, she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and the sound of a door closing. Her heart stopped. It was Saturday. Grant was home.

  Sophie sat up. When she was a kid, did she feel sorry for herself or did she pull herself up and get away from Pond Street? Exactly. So why was she lying around feeling sorry for herself now?

  In a flash, she was on her feet and heading to Grant’s door. He was going to listen to her and hear her out whether he liked it or not.

  Clearing the last few steps, she ran to his door and knocked.

  Her shoulders slumped. No answer. Same as the first time she knocked.

  Face it. Grant wasn’t home. She’d been so certain when the realization hit, she heard the footsteps but didn’t think about the fact they might not be Grant’s. She sank to the floor. What now? Camp out until he got home? What if he was on a date?

  Oh, God, what if he showed up with some pretty young thing and saw her sitting here by his door like some lonely stalker?

  Maybe this was a bad idea. The best thing would be to go downstairs and think out a plan of action.

  No. Plans are what got her in trouble in the first place. She was going to sit right here and wait. Though wasn’t that in itself a plan?

  The sound of knocking interrupted her internal debate. Took her a moment, but she realized the pounding came from her apartment. Pushing herself back to her feet, she walked to the top of the stairway.

  Grant stood at the bottom.

  Sophie’s breath caught. He looked as handsome as ever, his shoulders broad and strong. Shoulders Sophie knew now were perfect for leaning against. And his eyes, caramel and sparkling with surprise. How had she thought her world would be all right without those eyes?

  “The coat was gone,” she said, coming down a few steps.

  “What?”

  “The coat was gone,” she repeated. As statements went, she could have done better, but her brain was too scared to think of anything but grabbing hold of what s
he really wanted. “I went back to the flea market and someone else had bought it. The vendor told me you have to move fast if you see something or risk losing out. Especially if you see something you really, really want.”

  He looked at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “I didn’t know,” she told him, risking another step closer, “because I didn’t realize then what I know now.

  “See, you’re the coat. Took me a long time and a whole lot of wasted shuttles to Boston before I understood what I really and truly needed. And it’s not being managing director. I thought when I got the job, I’d feel more secure. Safe. I don’t.”

  “Wait, back up. You got the job?”

  That’s right, he didn’t know. She nodded.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Don’t bother. The job is lonely. I spend all my days on the road. I haven’t slept in my own bed for more than two nights since I took the job. Even when I do sleep at home, it’s not the same.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  She glanced up through her lashes. Her vision was blurring. “I bought this co-op because I wanted the home I never had. Thing is, the only time it really felt like a home was that one week we were together. I want that back, Grant. I want to come home and share my day with you, have coffee in the morning and listen to you tease me about all the frozen pizza I’ve stored in the freezer. I want to spend my weekends procrastinating over my to-do list and soaking in your big tub while you complain about modern design.”

  Grant blinked. His caramel-colored eyes glistened, even though there was no sunlight. “Do you mean that?”

  “Uh-huh. I was an idiot for not realizing sooner. Truth is, it doesn’t matter how much younger you are than me or what you do, or what I do. Only thing that matters is being with you. I love you, Grant Templeton. I don’t know how it happened or why or what it means to you, but I love you. And I’d like us to have a second chance. Please.”

  She took another step. “I don’t want to lose you.”