Cross the Line (Boston Love Story #2) (27 page)

The sound of Nate’s low laughter reaches my ears even across the loft.

***

Three hours, two cupcakes, and one horribly off-key rendition of
Happy Birthday Dear Phoebe
later, I’m sitting on the counter with my legs dangling, drinking champagne out of a paper cup and trying to convince myself that three cupcakes is too many. I survey the room, feeling warmth spread through me as my eyes move over the people in it.

Gemma and Chase are across the penthouse, trying to beat Lila and Martin, her date, at pool. Paul and Shelby are camped out in a corner, talking in hushed, angry tones. Mark and Chrissy left early, needing to get their son Winston to bed and eager to check on their newborn, Summer, who they’d left with a babysitter for the first time since she was born. Boo, sad that his pint-sized new best friend Winnie is gone, has claimed a sectional cushion and is sprawled out snoring impressively.

It’s not exactly a rave.

And yet, it’s exactly the kind of party I’ve always wanted. Just a few close friends, some really stellar sugary confections, and the warm glow of knowing there are people who care about me in this world.

“Happy?” a rumbling voice asks from my side.

I grin wider as I turn to look at him. “Best birthday ever.”

His eyes are soft as he reaches up to straighten my party hat, which has begun to droop crookedly on my head.

“Better than the year your mom rented that pony and you rode it around the backyard wearing a plastic suit of armor you stole from Parker’s closet, yelling that you were Xena the Warrior Princess?”

My mouth falls open. “Oh my god, I totally forgot about that. I must’ve been, what? Five? Six?”

“Six.” His lips are twitching. “Cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen, you with a sword instead of the princess wand your parents bought you.”

“What can I say?” I giggle. “I’m a non-conformist.”

“That was pretty much the end of your tomboy phase.” His eyes narrow as he thinks back. “From that point on, you were all sparkles and glitter.”

“Yeah, I think I discovered my mother’s Jimmy Choo collection at age six.” I shake my head. “There was no going back, after that.”

He laughs.

“She had so many pairs,” I murmur. “I used to sit on the floor of her closet and just stare at them. Row after row, all organized by color and designer. It was like a shoe museum.” I smile softly. “I used to put them on and walk around in them even though they were inches too big. Even after…” I clear my throat. “Even after we lost her, I’d still sit in there and try on her shoes. Dreaming of they day they’d finally fit.”

His eyes swirl with thoughts, then drop down to look at the Kate Spade heels on my feet. I see the moment comprehension surges through him.

“They fit now,” he says, voice low.

“Yes.” I swallow. “They fit now.”

“Little bird,” he whispers, voice thick with understanding and guilt. “I gave you such shit about those heels.”

I shrug. “You didn’t know. It’s fine, Nate.”

He exhales sharply. “You were fourteen.”

“What?”

“When they finally fit.” His eyes hold mine. “You were fourteen. I remember, because I came home from that first semester at college and you’d morphed into this little vixen overnight.”

“The Sadie Hawkins dance,” I say, laughing lightly. “That was the first night I ever wore a pair of my mother’s heels. I remember worrying I’d have killer blisters, dancing in them all night. It didn’t stop me from wearing them.”

“Did you?” he asks.

“Did I what?”

He grins. “Have killer blisters.”

“Oh.” I sigh. “No. My date didn’t dance with me, remember?”

His face darkens into a scowl. “Duncan.”

“You know, if you’d just said yes when I asked you, all that drama could’ve been avoided.” I tilt my head. “You were the one I really wanted to dance with, anyway.”

He stares at me. “I was no good for you then, little bird.”

I hold my breath. I have to ask. “And now?”

Our eyes lock for a long, suspended moment. Without saying a word, his hands wrap around my waist and he lifts me down from the counter.

“Nate?”

He doesn’t answer. His hand entwines with mine and he leads me through an archway, across an empty bedroom, to a set of glass French doors. I lose my breath as we step out onto a rooftop terrace, taking in the sight of the city sprawled out below us. From up here, all the empty offices in the skyscrapers around us are illuminated against the night like glowing gemstones on a bolt of black velvet. It’s magnificent.

“What are we doing out here?” I ask when we reach the railing, torn between staring at the beauty of the view and the man next to me. It’s dark out here. Crisp air and total quiet.

Nate bends to brush his mouth across mine, wrapping his arms around my waist. His lips are gentle but greedy. I try to memorize this feeling – the pure bliss of his touch, his taste. When he finally breaks the kiss, it takes a minute for the fog to clear out of my brain… but when it does, I realize we’re swaying.

Not swaying.

Dancing
.

His body rocks mine back and forth, moving us in a slow rhythm across the terrace, and I feel tears gathering in the back of my eyes.

“What are you doing?” I ask, voice choked.

“I owed you a dance,” he says simply, like it should’ve been obvious.

“There’s no music.”

His lips brush my ear. “Put your head on my chest.”

I do.

“You hear my heartbeat?”

I nod, cheek rubbing the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s beating for you, little bird,” he murmurs, holding me closer. “That can be our music.”

“But you can’t hear mine,” I whisper, voice cracking.

He pauses. “I can hear it, Phoebe. I hear it in my soul. I set my life by its every beat.” 

My eyes are glassy with unshed tears when I lift my head to look at him. I don’t say anything as I stare into his eyes; neither does he. But I know, down to the marrow of my bones, that Nathaniel Knox has just told me he loves me.

And then his lips come down and he’s kissing me against the most beautiful backdrop I’ve ever seen in my life, but not even a view like that can hold my attention when I’m standing in the arms of the man I love.

I confess: I don’t like pumpkin spice lattes.

There, I said it. Take me away, officer.

Phoebe West, in a worrisome brush with the law.

Now, the party don’t start till I walk in…

“Is someone singing Ke$ha in the elevator?” Gemma asks, eyes wide.

Our group has dwindled to four: Nate, Chase, Gemma, and me. Lila and Martin bailed thirty minutes ago because Lila has to “get to bed early.” Something tells me, she won’t be going alone.

Insert eye roll here.

It’s late, almost midnight, and the four of us are scattered across the sectional, counting down the minutes until it’s officially my birthday. Boo is snoring on one of the couch cushions, totally exhausted by the events of the last few days.

“Parker!” I exclaim, recognizing his voice as the elevator doors chime open. He’s grinning wide as he steps into the penthouse.

“Sweet P, you call this a party?” He crosses the space toward us, eyeing the few remaining cupcakes and semi-deflated balloons with amusement. “I thought you were turning twenty-four, not eighty four.”

“Hardy har har,” I mutter, standing to give him a hug before turning to face the rest of the group. “Gemma and Chase, this is my brother Parker.” I smile. “Parker, meet my friends Gemma and Chase. This is their place, so try not to act like a total barbarian for the next few minutes, okay?”

My joke falls totally flat. Not even one pity chuckle.

“Jeeze, tough crowd,” I murmur.

I soon realize no one in the room is even paying attention to me. Nate and Chase are occupied, staring from Parker to Gemma and back with wary eyes. My gaze lands on my friend and I almost gasp when I see how pale she is. Her skin is clammy white, her pretty blue eyes are wide with dismay and fixed firmly on my brother. I’m shocked when I glance his way and see he’s glaring at her with vehemence.

“
This
is your friend Gemma?” he clips out, jaw tight.

My heart starts to pound. I’ve never seen him like this — so full of rage. He’s not the type to take an instant dislike to anyone. I can’t imagine what made his mood shift so quickly from playful to pissed.

“What’s happening here?” I ask, totally at a loss. “Do you two know each other?”

Parker laughs, but it’s bitter and cold. “Know her? No. Know
of
her? Yeah, you could say that.”

Gemma looks at me and her eyes flash with sadness and worry.

“Gemma?” I prompt.

She remains quiet – which is totally unlike her.

Chase has one arm wrapped around her shoulders, and is staring at his girlfriend with concern. Parker’s so busy glaring, he won’t make eye contact with me. When I meet Nate’s stare, though, I see cautious resignation.

“You know something.” I pin him with a hard look. “What the hell is going on, Nate?”

“Phoebe—”

“Don’t
Phoebe
me, Nathaniel.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, rising to his feet and stepping in front of Parker. “Come on, man. Let’s go. This isn’t the time.”

“Oh, I think this is a perfect time.” Parker’s voice is colder than I’ve ever heard it.

“It’s Phoebe’s birthday.” Gemma’s voice is shaky when she finally speaks, rising to her feet. “Please… not now.”

“Someone tell me what’s happening here!” I hiss, getting angry.

“I’m not going to lie to my sister.” Parker’s jaw ticks. “Clearly, you don’t live by the same morals.”

Chase steps in front of Gemma when she pales further, his green eyes cold on Parker. “You should go. Now.” He glances at me. “I’m sorry, Phoebe.”

I ignore him and step closer to Parker. I feel the heat of Nate’s chest close behind me.

My eyes lock on my brother’s face. “Parker. Tell me what’s happening, or I swear to god I’ll never forgive you.”

His eyes slide to mine. He swallows roughly. “She’s not who she says she is. She’s been lying to you.”

“Parker,” Gemma whispers behind me, a plea in her voice.

“Tell me!” I snap.

His eyes drift over my shoulder to her for a brief moment, before returning to my face. “Before Mom died….” He swallows and I swear, his voice is almost shaking. “Dad cheated on her.”

“I know about the affairs.” My spine stiffens. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Why are we talking about Milo?

“He…” Parker’s eyes press closed, as if he’s in pain. “Sweet P, he…”

Nate ducks to meet my gaze. His eyes are worried.

“Just say it,” I whisper, heart pounding in my ears. “Rip off the band-aid. Knowing can’t be worse than this — being kept in the dark by people who are supposed to care about me.”

I hear what sounds almost like a sob from Gemma.

Parker’s head is bowed and I see his fists clench tighter at my words.

“Phoebe.” Nate tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “The woman your father had an affair with twenty-seven years ago…” His voice is low. “He got her pregnant.”

“No,” I say immediately, rejecting the thought outright. “No, that’s not possible.”

“It is,” Nate says gently. “He fathered another child. Little bird, she…” His eyes move over my shoulder.

I hear another almost-sob.

She
.

Twenty-seven years ago.

My heart pounds faster.

My father had an affair.

An affair that resulted in a child.

A twenty-six year old child.

A twenty-six year old
girl
with hair the same shade as mine, and a face that’s almost the exact same shape as Parker’s, and big blue eyes, and a great sense of humor, and a terrible tendency to speak in run-on sentences, and a sun-shaped necklace hanging around her neck that looks just like the one Cormack took from me.

I turn slowly to face Gemma. I don’t know what look is on my face — I can barely discern the emotions tumbling around inside my chest — but hers is a mask of horrified anticipation.

She’s scared. I can see the fear in her eyes.

“You.” My voice is emotionless. “
You
.”

***

She takes a hesitant step toward me; I instantly step back, bumping into Parker in the process. I feel his big hand land firmly on my shoulder, squeezing to show his support.

“Phoebe.” Gemma’s voice breaks.

“No.” I cut her off with a swift shake of my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now.”

I turn blindly for the elevator. I feel wetness on my cheeks and realize absently that I’ve started crying. I’m not sure when — I just know that tears are streaking down my face faster and faster, in time with the breaths pumping too quickly in and out of my lungs.

“Sweet P—” Parker starts.

I freeze as a thought occurs to me, whirling on him. “You knew? You knew about this, and you never told me?” My eyes sweep the room from Parker to Chase to Nate, fury and accusation burning in their depths. “You all knew?”

Chase looks totally uncomfortable. Nate’s face is a stone mask, but his eyes are simmering with guilt.

“Not my secret to tell, little bird,” he says softly.

Ugh
. I hate when he’s right.

I whirl back to Parker.

“I wanted to tell you, Sweet P.” My brother swallows. “I didn’t know how. And I didn’t want to hurt you. If I’d known she was going to insert herself into your life—”

“You’re just as bad!” I throw out a hand, gesturing from Gemma to Parker. “Both of you lied. Guess you must be siblings, after all.” My throat feels like it’s closing up. I head for the elevators. “I have to get out of here. I need air.”

“Phee—”

“Phoebe—”

“Sweet P—”

“Little Bird—”

“Just listen—”

“Don’t go—”

“I’ll come—”

“Please stay—”

So many voices, tugging me so many directions. My feet freeze and I pivot to face the four of them.

“ENOUGH!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

When I open my eyes, they’re all staring at me warily.

“Enough,” I repeat in a much softer tone, turning to Gemma. I suck in a breath at the look on her face. “How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t know how.” Her voice cracks. “I wanted to, so many times, but…”

“So, you decided to lie to me instead?” I ask, voice shaking. “To pretend to be my friend, pretend to
like
me, because… Why? You wanted to see how the other half lived? Wanted to get to know me out of some kind of morbid curiosity?”

“I wasn’t pretending,” she says, eyes watering. “You’re my sister—”

“You’re not our sister,” Parker says coldly. “We may share blood, but that doesn’t make us family.”

“Actually, it does,” Gemma snaps back at him, regaining a little of her spirit. “Though if I’d known I was related to such a dick, maybe I wouldn’t have been so eager to meet you.”

“You have no idea, do you?” he volleys back. “The damage you and your mother did to our lives? Otherwise you’d have left us the hell alone.”

Her spine straightens. “You can try to blame me, but it’s not my fault Milo had an affair. I’m sorry if I’ve tarnished your view of your lifelong hero—”

“Is that what you think?” Parker laughs coldly. “That Milo West is a hero? That he’s going to be the daddy you never had?”

“Watch it,” Chase growls in warning.

Nate steps purposely into the space between them.

Parker holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just being honest, here. She wants to be part of this family, she should know what she’s getting into.”

“Parker,” I murmur.

He’s too pissed to listen. His eyes are locked on Gemma. “I know all about you. I’ve made it my business to know about you.” He swallows hard. “You may not have had a father, but you had a mother. That’s more than me or Phoebe ever had.”

My heart clenches.

Parker’s voice cracks but he keeps going. “Because when dear old dad had an affair with
your
mother… Do you know what happened to
ours
? Do you have any idea?”

I go still.

Nate’s suddenly standing in Parker’s face. I didn’t even see him move — he’s just there, out of nowhere. “Let it go. Walk away. You’re not doing this here.”

Parker glares at his best friend in the world and, for a split second, I actually think he’s going to take a swing at him — that’s how far gone Parker is, in this moment.

“Get out of my face,” my brother says flatly. “This isn’t your family. It isn’t you fight.”

“It is, actually,” Nate corrects. “Phoebe is my family. You’re my family. Don’t tell me this isn’t my business.”

Their eyes lock and the air between them grows so tense, I clench my hands to keep from stepping between them.

Gemma appears at my side, Chase trailing close behind her. Her face is twisted in pain and regret.

“Phoebe…” Her voice is a whisper. “What happened to your mother?”

I swallow, tears still in my eyes as I stare at her. I sense Nate and Parker fall silent, but I don’t shift my eyes off my friend.

Off my
sister
.

That’s going to take some getting used to.

I take a deep breath and force out the words. Words I’ve made a habit of burying deep down inside my soul, because they’re too painful to say aloud. I make myself say them now.

“She killed herself.”

My words are barely above a whisper, but she hears them. Her whole body flinches back.

“What?” she asks, horrified.

I swallow. “She was always fragile. She had a depressive personality disorder. A lot of times she wouldn’t get out of bed, would go days without coming out of her bedroom. She was on medication, but more often than not she couldn’t be counted on to take it.” My eyes go unfocused as I retreat into memories. “When she found out about the women, the affairs… something just seemed to break inside her. Something that couldn’t be fixed. I was young. I didn’t know how to make her better. Neither did the doctors or the specialists or any of the psychiatrists my father paraded into our house. For years, we watched helplessly as she retreated into herself more and more each day…”

Parker’s eyes are red. Even Nate and Chase, ever stoic, look a bit shaken. Gemma doesn’t say anything, but there are silent tears tracking down her face. When she reaches out to take my hand, I don’t pull away. I lace my fingers through hers and hold tight.

“We think she went in the middle of the night. Took some sleeping pills, waded into the ocean in her nightgown and…” I trail off. “It was me, who found her the next day. Covered in sand and surf. I remember thinking she was like some kind of mermaid washed ashore.”

My eyes cut to Nate. His stare moves over my face, full of strength and support — I absorb it like a sponge for several long seconds before turning to focus on Gemma.