Beautiful Secret (Beautiful Bastard #4) (8 page)

A woman with a fondness for gin and tonics, my favorite evening cocktail? Christ almighty. Even Max caught my eye, brows raised as if to say,
Well, well, well
.

“I’ll have the same,” I said, handing the waitress the menu. “Though one lime is fine.”

“So how do you all know each other?” Ruby asked Max.

“Well,” he tilted his head toward me, “this one’s my younger brother, of course.”

Ruby smiled. “I heard there’s quite a gaggle of you.”

“That’s right,” Max said with a small laugh. “Ten of us.” He pointed to the men at his side. “Bennett here I met in uni; Will I met when I moved to New York and we made the poor decision to open a business together—”

“Your wallet cries in regret daily,” Will said, dryly.

“George here works with my wife, Sara,” Max finished.

“I’m her Boy Friday,” George clarified. “In charge of schedule, refilling the flasks in her desk, and hiding Page Six from her whenever she and Max get
caught out and about.”

With the five of us already acquainted, our attention justifiably fell to Ruby, though I suspect mine may have regardless. In the dim candlelight, and against the backdrop of mirrored walls, heavy velvet curtains, and the dramatic polished wooden décor, she seemed to nearly glow.

“How long have you lived in London?” Bennett asked. “You’re clearly not British.”

“San Diego native,” she said and reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Bennett’s eyebrows rose. “My wife and I were married at the Hotel Del on Coronado.”

“Gorgeous!” Ruby’s smile could light this room in the dead of night. “I’ve been to a couple of weddings there and they were stunning.” Ruby thanked the waitress when she set down her drink, and lifted it to take a sip. “I graduated last June and moved to London in September, so about six months,” she said. “I’m in the internship program for one year at Richardson-Corbett, but I’m attending Oxford this fall for graduate school.”

“Ah, another urban planner?” Max asked, glancing over at me.

“No,” Ruby said, shaking her head a little. “Structural engineering.”

My brother sighed in mock relief. “So then you’ll agree with me that urban planning is the most boring profession ever created?”

Laughing, Ruby shook her head again. “I hate to disappoint you, but I was an urban planning—public
policy minor.” Max groaned playfully. “I hope to eventually come back to Southern California in a superhero costume and completely revolutionize the mass transit system there, or the lack thereof.”

I found myself leaning closer a little, to hear her better.

“Southern California is clogged with cars,” she said in the continued silence. “Everyone travels between southern cities by car and train, but there isn’t an easy way to navigate cities from within without driving. Los Angeles grew so fast and so wide without an integrated transportation system, so it will be about retrofitting an already complicated urban setting.”

Looking to me, she said as an aside, “It’s why I want to work with Maggie.” Taking a drink then going back to the others, she explained, “Margaret Sheffield, the woman I hope to study under, helped design building infrastructure around established Tube stations and in tight urban spaces. She’s kind of a genius.”

Even Bennett joined the rest of us in regarding her with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

“Jesus Christ. How
old
are you, Ruby?” George exclaimed.

I was grateful to have George at the table. He was willing to ask all of the questions I wanted to, but never would.

She reached up, tucked her hair behind her ear again in a gesture I’d come to translate as her single, uncomfortable tell. “Twenty-three.”

“You’re practically a zygote,” George said, groaning. “All that ambition and you’re
not even a quarter century old.”

“Well, how old are
you
?” she asked, her sunshine grin taking over her entire face. “You don’t look much older than me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” George whined. “It’s depressing. I’m practically approaching Viagra.”

“He’s
twenty seven
,” Will answered, shoving George playfully.

“But seriously. Let’s get to the important stuff,” George said. “Do you have a boyfriend, adorable-twenty-three-year-old-Ruby?” My attention darted down and I stared intently at my drink. “And does he have an equally adorable gay friend?”

“I have a brother,” she hedged, and then frowned apologetically. “
I
find him to be pretty adorable, but sadly, he’s straight. I could have made a fortune charging my girlfriends for sleepovers in high school.”

Bennett nodded and said, “I like your entrepreneurial spirit.”

George leaned in, saying, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you sidestepped the boyfriend question. Do I need to play matchmaker while you’re in New York?”

“I honestly don’t think you want to go there.” Ruby lifted her glass and perched her straw on her lips, meeting my eyes. “This one here can attest, only a half hour ago I looked like a streetwalking crackhead.”

“On the contrary,” I argued. “No one wears a hotel robe with more dignity.”

She giggled and then coughed as she swallowed. “You’re my favorite liar.”

“I’m being sincere,” I told her, putting my tumbler back
down on a cocktail napkin. “I was also impressed with the way you managed to get a hair pointed in each direction. Few can achieve that simply by napping in a hotel bed.”

She shrugged, her smile nearly giddy over our verbal banter. “Many have tried to teach me the ways of sleek hairstyling. Many have failed.”

I looked up to a table of grown men, watching us with rapt interest. I was definitely going to get the third degree from Max later.

“So, no boyfriend,” George said, grinning wolfishly.

“Nope,” she answered.

“And not interested in anyone in particular?”

Ruby’s mouth opened and immediately snapped closed as her cheeks bloomed pink. And then she blinked around the table, narrowing her eyes. “You can’t tell me you guys all get together for drinks and talk about relationships. Are we moving on to shoes next?”

Bennett tilted his head toward George. “It’s this one. Get him in a bar and it’s always like this.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Ben-Ben,” George drawled, “you’re the boss in the day, I’m the boss after dark.”

Bennett stared at him coolly, and I watched George struggle to not fidget under the pressure. “George,” he said, finally, fighting a laugh, “you have never said that to me.”

In a burst of relieved laughter, George said, “I know but it sounded so good. I’m just trying to impress Ruby.”

“Ruby, you’re going to steal George away from me,”
Will said, smiling.

“Not likely.” George reached forward to tap Will’s nose with each word: “She. Doesn’t. Have. The. Right. Parts.”

“Okay, then,” Bennett said, lifting his drink and taking a long swallow. “Back to discussing body parts. All is normal.”

A silence fell over the table as everyone turned to watch Ruby leave the bar and head upstairs to bed. She had been utterly charming throughout dinner, and the group had groaned in unison when she’d excused herself because of our early morning. I, too, had been quite sad to see her go.

“Well, well.”

I looked up to see my brother’s smug expression.

“Now that we’re alone,” Will began, “I think we can all agree to drop any pretense that we’re not ruined for civilized conversation, yes?” Each of them nodded in agreement and beside me, his glass now refilled, Will raised his tumbler to take a small swallow of scotch. “I also think we can all agree Bennett will be an important consultant on this case.”

Max snickered.

“The conference?” I asked, confused.

“It’s an all-too-common predicament,” Bennett added dryly. “Knockout intern. Boss in denial. I’ll draft up a step-by-step plan of containment.”

I blinked, swallowing thickly as I realized what they meant. “She’s not
my
intern. I have absolutely no say in her career.” I shook my head, frustrated because
it was exactly the wrong thing to say. “I’m not . . . that is to say, she’s not interested. Nor I.”

All four men laughed.

“Niall,” Will said, leaning his elbows on his knees. “She nearly dropped her drink in your lap when George asked if she was interested in anyone.”

“Was going to say the same thing,” Bennett said.

“And something tells me she’d be first to volunteer to clean it up,” Will added.

“Well, maybe that’s because she’s interested in someone who works with us at R-C.”

“Yeah.
You
.” Max lifted his glass and finished the last of the amber liquid.

“Sincerely,” I said, fighting a smile. “She’s a fantastic girl, but she’s certainly not a romantic option for me.”

Tilting his head, Bennett asked, “What color are her eyes?”

Green
, I didn’t say. I shook my head as if I didn’t know.

“What was she wearing?” Will asked.

A blue dress that hit just above her knee
, I didn’t say.
A delicate gold chain around her neck and a ring on her right ring finger that I had to resist asking her about until George bulldozed in and asked about a boyfriend
.

I rolled my eyes, and my brother laughed again, this time pointing his drink at me. “Blokes don’t notice these things unless they’re
interested
.”

“Or George,” Will added, and George reached over to grab the back of his neck and try to pull him in
for a kiss.

“Well, it’s apparent I needn’t think on this any further,” I said. “You’ve all decided for me.”

“It’s what we do,” Will said, adjusting the skewed collar of his shirt as he settled back into his chair. “It’s a sickness, we know.”

“I thought we’d lost that muscle, honestly,” George said.

“It’s a relief to know we still have it in us. The ladies will be so proud.” Max rapped his knuckles on the table as he made to stand. “Alas, I’d best be off. New routine: Sara gets the baby to sleep; I do the midnight bottle feeding.”

“Finally taking a bottle from you then? Guess you smell like a woman, too,” I said to Max, reminding him of the little dig he’d thrown my way on my last visit.

Max laughed and patted me on the back, and we all stood, a silent agreement in place that we were ready to call it a night. I watched my brother gather his things and say his goodbyes, feeling the same mix of pride and longing for what he was headed home to: a wife, a daughter. A proper home.

“Kiss the girls for me,” I requested as he made his way out of the bar. He waved a hand, retreating, and then disappeared from view. The hotel bar felt completely deserted, silent in an immediate way now that the four men had left.

I wanted to put a better name to the longing I felt watching him go. It wasn’t tinged with envy or bitterness over my own circumstances. It was that I’d realized, when visiting Max and Sara only weeks ago, that I
knew
what I wanted—stability, a wife, a family—but now I was so far behind.
I’d never been great with change, and it was daunting to face the prospect of altering my expectations about life and my future post-divorce.

I hadn’t realized until now how I’d put off even
thinking
about what life looked like from here on out and how to make it what I wanted. I’d simply hit pause. For seven months I’d neatly plowed ahead: diving into work, into footie and rowing on the weekend, the occasional evenings out with my mates, Archie and Ian.

But to get what I wanted, I’d need to put myself out there and meet someone.

And now, through the power of suggestion—from Tony, from Max and Will and Bennett, even George—or maybe simply from being in the presence of a hypnotically beautiful and sweet woman, my mind immediately wondered if Ruby
could
be the type of woman I’d date.

But I didn’t want to move toward Ruby simply because others thought I should, or because I had a space to fill in my life. Of course I found her attractive and—in the private spaces of my mind—could easily imagine having a go.

Could I ever be in a relationship with passion and honesty, with a degree of loyalty I’d never felt from Portia? My loyalty had always been first to her, but hers had never wavered from her parents, leaving me a distant second. It hadn’t struck me as off, but in hindsight I knew it meant we would never have been able to be true partners in our marriage.

In the past year or two I’d
come to realize I’d been resigned to Portia as my lot simply because she carried so much of my history with hers. But, despite my hesitation and oft-noted reserve, I was raised in a house of passion, and children, and the most absurd sort of adventure. Though I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger on spontaneity and wildness, I needed it around me in the passive way that we also need air, or warmth.

Ruby’s mischievous face lingered in my thoughts as I took the lift to our floor.

It seemed as though she was placed in front of me at the perfect time. Not necessarily so I could approach her romantically, but so I could gain perspective on how many different types of women were out there—and that they weren’t all like Portia.

The process of splitting up a shared life with Portia into two separate ones was an excruciating, gradual process. First, it was the flat: with almost no discussion, we’d decided it went to her. Next, it was the car: also hers. She kept the dog, the furniture, and a sizable portion of the savings. I let it all go, strikingly unburdened.

Portia was my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. Married at nineteen, I’d believed in staying married despite misery, unfashionable as that view might have been.

It was simply that, one day, our misery reached a point where I could see no point to it.

I couldn’t see her being passionate with me ever again, and for myself as well our lovemaking had long since taken on a sort of mechanical,
transactional flavor. There had been no mention of children in years and, to be fair, I was unable to imagine Portia ever loving her children the way my mother had loved us: with enthusiastic kisses planted to our bellies and constant physical reminders of motherly adoration. Now, months away from the divorce, I wondered how I’d ever imagined a life with her: clean, cold, everything in its place.