Restoration (22 page)

Chapter 23

Grace sat alone in the restaurant where she and Valerie usually had their lunch meetings. She was waiting for her friend, who was caught up with a project she was working on.

She pushed the contents of her salad around on her plate while she waited, nerves getting the better of her. She knew Valerie was furious over what she’d done. Her heart began to race as she saw the familiar curtain of translucent blond hair swinging through the door.

Valerie had blossomed in the last few months. Unlike Grace’s experience in Braley, Valerie had flourished. She’d come out of her shell and changed from a mousy assistant, without her own opinion, to a self-assured and strong-minded woman. She was also Grace’s closest friend.

“What did you do to him?” Valerie’s words were laced with contempt as she seated herself across from her.

“I had to let him go. It was the right thing for him.”

“Really? Your mom told me he’s been by the house every day to talk to you. I saw him yesterday and he’s broken, completely broken.”

Her heart lurched as Valerie leveled a calculating gaze on her. “He deserves so much more than me. I’m still too messed up to be with anyone. Donovan was right, I’m sick. What kind of person falls in love with their dead boyfriend’s twin brother?” Even saying the words made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Donovan’s an ass. Drew deserves a chance. He came all the way here for you.”

“You should’ve seen him at Marianne’s. He flipped out. He can’t handle the fact that I was so connected with John.”

“I’m not saying he’s perfect. He needs to work this out, too. He needs your help.”

“I can’t help him. I can’t even help myself.” Her hands flailed in the air. “I’m a mess.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been helping yourself your whole life. You’re afraid.”

“I’m
not
afraid.” She bristled at the words. “It isn’t fair to him. He’s been hurt, badly, and I don’t want to make him feel like he comes second to anyone. John will always be this . . . this presence in our lives. He’ll always wonder if I’m thinking of John when he kisses me, when we have sex. That’s not any way to share a life.”

“I don’t think you’re seeing the real situation here. He’s breaking apart and trying desperately to show you he loves you. You’re killing him.”

“He needs someone he can be sure of. Someone who doesn’t carry this kind of baggage around. And me? I need to get my head together and focus on work. Bidwell called yesterday and has me starting a few new projects in Jamestown. I’ve got to get started on those and Drew needs to move on.”

“For someone who’s usually so smart, you sure can be stupid.” Valerie looked at her watch and rose from her seat. “I’ve got to get back to the office. He’s leaving today.
Talk to him
.”

She shook her head and stared at her untouched salad. “He needs to go. A clean break is best. I have to move on, too.”

“Fine, whatever, Grace. I guess I’ll see you at work.”

Drew was waiting for her when she arrived back at her parents’ house. He looked terrible, his eyes tired and his face drawn. He met her glance from behind the steering wheel and stood as she put the truck in park. Her heart pounded against her chest as she closed the truck’s heavy door and turned to face him.

Before she could get her key out, his lips were on hers, hands cupping each side of her face while he ran his thumbs along her cheeks. The pressure of his mouth waged a war on her resolve and when his tongue traced her bottom lip, she momentarily forgot all the reasons for letting him go.

He released her from his grasp and stepped away, his eyes fierce and burning. “I’m saying this once more. Once, Grace. I love you. I want you. But I’m not perfect and I need time to sort this mess out, too. Don’t run from me.”

Her heart hurt. Physically hurt. And she fought down the urge to give in to him—to accept his love.

You’re sick Grace, you need help.
Donovan’s hateful words barreled through her memory like a steamroller.
How could you do this to John?
She shook her head and had to clear the lump that gathered in her throat.

“No, Drew. I’m saying no.”

“Why are you doing this?” His face was heartbreakingly beautiful, even as she could see the hurt coursing through him.

“Please, just go.” It was barely a whisper.

“Don’t do this.”

“Drew. I realized something the other day when you met Marianne. You
are
just a replacement for John. He’s the one I want, but can’t be with. I was using you and I need to stop. Now you should go and I have to get help.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

His face fell as she said it, however untrue it might have been. She could see him fighting the words that were bubbling to his lips.

“Right. Thanks for that.” His eyes met hers, anger and frustration plain. “I guess you’ve put me in my place. I’ll let you alone then. Goodbye, Grace.”

With that, he walked past her and out of her life.

As soon as he was out of sight, she let her trembling limbs take over and slid down the side of the truck to the ground. Her chest felt tight and her throat burned with unshed tears. She pressed the heel of her hand to her heart, trying to keep the invisible wound closed.

Drew’s ears must have been lying to him. She wasn’t
saying these words after everything they’d been to one another. Anger filled his heart as he heard her.

“You
are
just a replacement for John, he’s the one I want but can’t be with. I was using you and I need to stop.”

He shook his head, trying to contain the pain that radiated from his chest.
Not again. Not again. This can’t be happening again
. His worst fear was coming true. He was being used and tossed away like rubbish all over again.

“Right. Thanks for that.” He heard himself say the words, but felt as though he was on the outside, looking in on this painstaking exchange. “I guess you’ve put me in my place. I’ll let you alone, then. Goodbye, Grace.”

He turned and walked away, but had to ball his hands up in fists to fight the urge to grab her and shake her. The last thing he wanted was to let her go, but at this point he didn’t trust himself. Her choice of words stung more than anything she could have said and he was plainly aware she knew just what she was doing.

If she wants me gone, then that’s what I need to do. I can’t believe she’d do this to me.
He felt the embarrassing heat of tears burn the corners of his eyes and fought to control his lower lip as it began to tremble.

His breath came out in a harsh cough as he pushed the flood of despair away. The walk back to his hotel was long, cold, and miserable. He felt foolish for coming all the way out here, flying to America to propose to this woman who only saw him as a copy. A copy of his twin brother whom he’d never known even existed.

His mind flitted back to the first night they’d had sex. He remembered thinking she’d said
John
just as they’d fallen asleep. Shame and anger burned as that name took on a whole new meaning.

“Fuck!” he yelled as he rounded the corner to his hotel. A woman with a young child in his path shot him a wary look and crossed the street to avoid him.

“Sorry, sorry.”

He was losing it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and focused on the ground under his feet as he closed the distance to his hotel, his waiting luggage, and his plane ticket. A cab arrived within ten minutes, ready to take him to the airport and away from this disaster. He needed to get home, back to his quiet, normal life, and away from Grace.

As he sat on the plane, he stared in silence at the seat in front of him. He hated the people next to him, behind him, in front of him. Oblivious in their own bubbles of happiness.

He took a shuddering breath, trying to will away the thoughts of his Grace. Her green eyes flashing with disgust when she’d ripped his heart out and stomped on it; her lips, parting in pleasure as he made love to her.
No! No! Stop it. She said it herself, you’re just a numpty she used to replace John.

He felt the pressure of little feet kicking his seatback and turned to peer at the culprit. A little girl with dark curly hair looked up from her coloring book.

“Are you okay, mister?” she asked, taking in his haggard appearance. She turned to face her mother. “Mommy, that man has sad eyes.”

He shook his head, embarrassed that this little person was so perceptive. He heard the girl’s mother murmur under her breath for her to leave him be as he turned back in his seat. Moments later, the rhythmic thumping of little feet resumed and he sighed, pushing down the annoyance as he heard the mother reprimand the little girl once again. He eventually drifted off to sleep, the sonorous sounds of circulating air somehow lulling him.

“Mister? Mister?” He was awakened to the sight of a plush bunny being wagged in his face.

“Hello, what’s this?” he questioned, taking the soft toy in his hands.

“It’s my bunny. You can hold it. It’ll make you feel better.” Her little face was pressed against the space between the seats. “But you gotta give it back.”

He nodded, his face a serious mask as he fought off a smile. “Thank you.”

Chapter 24

Drew was gone. And true to his word, he’d left Grace alone in her misery. It had been weeks since he’d left and the ache was still there—still raw and ragged around the edges. Her intent was to cut him out of her heart and move on; instead, she’d caused more damage to herself. Nightmares were plaguing her again and her jaw ached from the constant clenching of her teeth.

Work was her only solace. Since being reinstated at the firm, she was working harder than ever. Her Jamestown project was moving forward and the mild spring weather brought progress ahead of schedule. She spent ten to twelve hours each day in her office, avoiding real life.

Valerie seemed happy to be working as her assistant again, bringing a new facet to their working relationship. After Drew had left, she’d offered to let Grace move in with her and Lena, Valerie’s close friend, until they knew where the Braley project stood. Grace was more than happy to get away from the constant scrutiny of her mother.

Now that their relationship had changed into a stronger friendship, they worked together in a more seamless way. Valerie could read her like a book and was constantly bringing her snacks, encouraging her to take breaks, and trying to get her to talk about what was going on in her head.

“I’ve brought you lunch. You need to eat something before you pass out.” Valerie stood in the doorway of Grace’s office, a sandwich and a protein smoothie in her hands.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Grace, you’re not eating enough and you’re running too much. Have you looked at yourself lately? Your clothes are hanging off of you.”

She rolled her eyes at Valerie’s overdramatic attitude. “I’m fine.”

“No. You are the opposite of fine. This is worse than when John died.”

She felt a pang at the mention of John, but pushed it away before the ache could take hold. “All right, give me the smoothie.” She reached her hand out for the Styrofoam cup.

“You need both of these. I’m sure you haven’t eaten since yesterday and how many miles was it this morning?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Only nine.” She rubbed at a knot that was forming in her shoulder.

“Eat it all.”

“Fine,” Grace said, aware of the petulant note in her voice as she removed the sandwich from its wax paper wrapping. The food tasted like ashes in her mouth, nauseating her, but she dutifully swallowed it down and drank her smoothie.

“So, what’s next on the agenda for Jamestown? Bidwell mentioned something about a chapel and looking at some houses that need exterior work?”

“Yes, that should keep us busy for most of this week. I hope.”

Grace spent the rest of the day working with Valerie on the Jamestown project. Her anxiety began to build as five o’clock approached.

Night was the hardest time for her; that was when the memories turned into nightmares and held her hostage. John and Drew haunted her dreams, begging to be saved, hating her for leaving. There’d been many sleepless nights since Drew left.

Her dreams kept her from the much-needed healing only rest could give.

The clock read two-fifteen when Grace woke with a pounding head and aching jaw. Her breathing was erratic and she was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, palms clammy and cold. Her stomach roiled, sending her running for the bathroom. She kneeled on the cold tile floor, holding her hair back and waiting for the contents of her stomach to upset. Her breaths were deep and controlled while she willed the nausea to abate.

“Grace?” Valerie’s soft voice came from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Are you sick?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” She swallowed and felt the nausea begin to recede. “Just a nightmare.”

She heard Valerie pad down the hall and into the kitchen. She was back a moment later with a cold, wet towel and pressed it against the back of her neck. She handed her a glass of water.

“You need to see someone. This is unhealthy. You’re a mess.”

Grace took a small sip of the water and stood, then looked Valerie square in the face. “I’m fine. Drop it.”

Valerie put up her hands. “Yeah. If fine is sitting on the floor of the bathroom trying not to puke because you’re practically anorexic. You need to start taking care of yourself. Stop wallowing. You made your choice.”

“I know.” Her vision swam with tears. “I think I made a mistake, Val.” Her voice was trembling as she finally admitted the truth.

Valerie nodded. “Hallelujah!” She walked her back to her room and set the water on the bedside table. “Get some sleep. We’ll call him in the morning.”

“He’s not going to want to talk to me. I said terrible things to him. I hurt him so badly.”

“We’ll see.”

The sun peeked through Grace’s closed blinds, its rays landing on her face in thin lines. She woke feeling more rested than she had for the last month. Her stomach knotted immediately at the thought of calling Drew, but she got up, got dressed in her running clothes, and headed out the door after a drink of water and a cheery
hello
to Valerie.

As she ran, she thought of all the things she wanted to say to him. How she was stupid and scared. That she loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone. How it killed her every time she thought of watching him walk away. That she ached to feel him moving inside her, making her come apart.

Her feet hit the pavement hard, but she was distracted and couldn’t get a good rhythm. Her back was aching and her hips felt tight and uncomfortable.
That’s what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, but insist on running six miles a day.
She chastised herself for not seeing the warning signs. She was falling back into the cycle of grief she’d been stuck in before Braley.

Valerie was right. She’d lost weight and her skin was a disaster; dark circles framed her usually bright eyes. Dehydration made her nauseated most days and she was constantly exhausted from lack of sleep. She knew she needed to change her behavior.

Starting now, with the call to Drew. I’ll be better.

When she got back to the apartment, there was coffee ready and a plate of bacon and eggs covered with a paper towel setting on the small dining table.
God bless her.

As she ate the still-warm food, her fingers itched to pick up her phone. Her stomach grumbled as the first bite of bacon hit her lips and she gave in to her appetite, finishing the whole plate. She looked at her phone setting on the table next to her plate.

Pick it up and do it. Stop being such a chicken.

She swiped through her contacts until she found Drew and pressed
call
; to hell with international charges.

“We’re sorry, this user’s mailbox is full,” came the tinny voice of a recorded message.

Her heart sank. She found the number for David’s home and debated dialing. She didn’t know how much he knew about the situation between them.
Probably every last detail. He probably hates me.
She took a breath and scrolled through her contacts until she found Ten’s.

As it rang, her pulse pounded in her ears and her hands trembled.

“Ten’s, can I help ya?” a woman’s voice answered.

“Um, hello. I’m looking for Drew Tensley. Is he in?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me when he’ll be back?”

“I don’t know. He and Sarah are in Surrey for the wedding. He didn’t say when he’d be back.”

“Sarah?” Her stomach dropped.
Wedding? Sarah, his ex-wife?

“I can leave a message for you if you’d like.”

“No. Thank you.”

Grace hung up, feeling numb.

Oh, my bloody head! Where am I? What in hell did
I do last night?

Drew was catapulted from sleep by the blaring alarm on his phone. His head felt like it’d been crushed by a steamroller and was currently under assault by a thousand jackhammers. His eyes felt sticky and dry, like there was sand gumming them up.

Fuck all! Contact lenses.

He blinked, trying to add moisture to his blurry vision and rose, stumbling to the bathroom and fumbling blindly for his toiletry bag where he kept his lens solution. After the painful process of peeling a dry contact off each eye, his head pounded with a ferocity that sent waves of nausea rolling through him. He breathed slow and steady through his nose, trying to squash the sick feeling twisting his stomach.

The wedding . . . Surrey.

I’m in a hotel in bleeding Surrey.

His glasses sat atop the counter, disregarded in a moment of stupidity, the level of which was only increased as his eyes continued to itch and burn. As he perched his black-rimmed glasses on his nose, the room came into focus. It looked like Hell, with a capital H. Clothes strewn about haphazardly, beer bottles lined the dresser, and the room held the faint scent of cigarette smoke. His brain hurt from the effort of recalling the damaged cells that held the contents of the evening.

What had happened?

His eyes drifted around the room, where he quickly realized he wasn’t alone. Icy tendrils of dread crept through him as his eyes ran up the sleeping form of Sarah in his bed. Her blond hair fanned across the pillow. Panic bloomed in his chest, causing his knees to buckle. He landed in the chair at the corner of the hotel room.

Bloody fucking hell!

His eyes scanned the room for any clue of what had happened. He was completely dressed, his clothes from the previous day rumpled from sleep. Sarah’s, however, were in a neat pile on the floor; her black lace bra and panties lay on top of the dress she’d worn the night before.

He pressed the heel of his hand to his throbbing forehead.
Think! Think! Think!
His
mind swam as his eyes landed on her long tanned leg peeking out from under the bedclothes. Nausea overtook him and he ran for the toilet.

Sarah found him, his face pressed against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. “All right, lover?”

He cringed at the implied endearment, the unearned familiarity. Then he realized she was still naked. “Get out.”

“I’m sorry? What did you just say to me?”

“I said get out. And don’t call me
lover
.”

Her face, the one he used to equate with that of a carved angel, twisted into a stony mask of fury.

“You bloody great wanker!” she screeched and slammed the door, leaving him alone in his misery.

As soon as she was gone from the room, he pulled himself up and fell to the bed, aching from a night spent sleeping in an armchair. He was chilled and miserable, with a hangover that rivaled some of his days at University. He scoured his brain for any memory of the night before.

What he remembered came in bits and pieces. His cousin Briony’s wedding and being reminded of Grace at every turn. Watching Briony come down the aisle on her father’s arm had cut deep. He couldn’t help but picture Grace, walking to him, smiling and happy. The things he
wanted
and the things he
had
differed so much that it physically hurt. The reception was the tipping point, where he’d lost it all. He’d watched the happy couple, dancing, drinking, in love and together. Their hands stayed linked every moment they were next to each other and he couldn’t stand it. The bar had been open and liquor flowed freely. By the time Sarah had started circling, his head was swimming in self-pity and scotch.

He remembered her smelling delicious and familiar. She looked like sin itself, wearing a fire-engine-red dress, cut low in the front, exposing the valley between her breasts. Her angel’s face pulling him in with promises of things to come—things that were sure to take away all of his pain if he’d let them. Flashes of her lips on his and the utter wrongness he’d felt as she’d raked her nails over his chest hit him. He shook his head, sickened by the memory. He also recalled pushing her away, telling her
no
,
and when she refused to leave, finally passing out in the armchair he’d woken in.

He needed to sort things out in the worst way. He’d been present in his life since returning from Virginia, but not an active participant; simply living, while covered in a veil of hurt pride and anger. He didn’t even know what he was angry about anymore. Was it his loss of Grace, her lies about how she felt, the loss of a brother he hadn’t known existed? Or all of it combined?

The only person he’d shared the details with was his dad, who could always be trusted to listen, sound off on the topic, then leave it to get sorted. The words his dad shared with him still rang loud.

“You need to let the girl be, son. She’s got to sort it for herself. Put yourself in her shoes for a minute. How would you feel if you lost the person you loved most in this world, only to find someone who looks just like her?” His eyes had filled with tears. “I’d give anything to have your mum back, but I don’t know how I’d handle something like that.”

Drew nodded and his breath caught in his throat. “I won’t give up on her. I can’t.”

“I didn’t say give up. Give her some time to realize she was wrong. She’s running from her own demons. She’ll come round.”

The memory was vivid and he was once again lost in guilt. He’d followed his dad’s advice, given her space, taken time to try and move past his own issues. How could he have been so weak and selfish to push her the way he had? He knew Grace needed space to see how she truly felt.

His head rested in his hands as he tried to bring back some version of himself he could relate to.