Love Restored (16 page)

“All yours,” he growled to the two college-aged boys who were also staring at Blake’s ass.

The two looked at him, eyes wide.

“The table,” he corrected. “The woman? She’s mine.”

They nodded slowly, and he went after Blake. Though he knew she’d be safe in here and was still in his line of sight, he didn’t like the idea of her being alone for too long. That might be on him, but still, it was a pub.

Blake snorted at him when he sat down at the high top she’d found for them. “Really? Warning off little boys from me?”

He shrugged and took a look at the drink specials on the table. “They were old enough.”

“I’m thirty-two, Graham. I’m not looking for some fresh-faced college kid who doesn’t know how to move his hips.”

Graham stared at her and shook his head. “The words that come out of your mouth…” He shook his head again, but a smile crept over his face.

“I thought you liked my mouth.”

He reached under the table and slid his hand over her thigh. He didn’t get too close to the seam of her jeans as there wasn’t a tablecloth to hide them, but she got the idea.

“I like your mouth,” he agreed. “A whole hell of a lot. And I like the words that come out of it. And while you might not want a twenty-something-year-old kid, those guys just see a very sexy woman at this table. So, yeah, I went a little caveman.”

“I guess you could have been worse, but still, I can fight my own battles. If, you know, there’s an actual battle to fight.”

He squeezed her thigh once. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I won’t help.”

She just rolled her eyes. When the waitress came, they each ordered a beer while she ordered nachos and he ordered wings. He figured they’d share since he kind of wanted both. Not the healthiest meal for them, but hell, he’d eaten well during the week, and if he wanted to indulge once in a while, he would. He and his brothers were doing better about that at home too when they were around. Hence the stir-fry a couple of nights before and not another round of pizza. He winced. Yeah, he’d forgotten about the pizza with Blake he’d already had earlier in the week.

“What was that wince for?”

“Just thinking that our next date needs to be at a place where I’m not eating grease.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I get you. I don’t usually eat so much crap, but I was craving nachos.” She tilted her head. “And next time? You want to keep doing this?” Something passed over her face, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“Yeah, don’t you?” he asked as casually as he could.

She played with the paper napkin in front of her and gave him a slight nod.

He’d have to take that because he wasn’t sure what else he could do right then when they were in public. The waitress dropped off their drinks and plates for their meals while he and Blake talked for a bit about nothing important but important enough to be talked about. They didn’t go deep into their pasts or what they were feeling, but he was okay with that since they were in a bar. What he liked was that he talked about how his day had gone, and Blake seemed genuinely interested. And when Blake spoke of the small tattoo she’d done that day and the nose ring she’d done for a woman’s fiftieth birthday, he couldn’t help but be enraptured. There was a tension in the air he couldn’t place, though, and no matter how he tried to steer the conversation, he always felt like he was missing something.

After he was stuffed with cheese, meat, and grease, he sighed and finished his glass of water. They’d each only had one beer since he had to drive them to his place where she’d left her car. He found it weird that she hadn’t wanted him to pick her up at her place, but he figured that was just Blake. She was secretive about her past and who she was beyond the shields she wore, but he hoped one day soon he’d figure her out.

He’d told her about Cynthia and Candice and everything that had gone on with that. He may not have mentioned his parents or Murphy, but he felt as if he’d opened up more than he ever had before with another person.

They’d met the first time because of her family’s home, yet he didn’t know why she’d left it the way it was, or why she hated the place his company was rebuilding so much. Maybe that was what she’d wanted to talk about when she’d shown up, and he’d had his very tasty breakfast against the front door. He wouldn’t ask her now as they were in public, but when they got back to his place, he would. Honestly, with so much going on, he’d forgotten about it. But he’d ask her tonight.

“Ready to head back to my place?” he asked once she’d finished her water, as well.

She looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I guess so.”

He frowned at her. “What’s going on?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s go, okay?”

“There’s something wrong. You need to tell me.”

She met his gaze defiantly, her chin raised. “Let’s just get to your place.”

He didn’t sigh, but he wanted to as he followed her out of the pub and to his car. The drive wasn’t that long, but it was filled with tension. He didn’t ask her questions, didn’t speak, but then again, she didn’t volunteer any information either. He had a feeling the other shoe was about to drop, and he sure as hell didn’t like the idea of it. He’d just gotten used to the idea of Blake, and now he was sure something was going to fuck it all up.

Again.

When he pulled into his driveway next to her car, he shut off the engine and undid his seatbelt so he could turn and look at her. She had her hands in her lap, her fingers twined together, and that worried him since she didn’t look like herself. When her teeth bit into her lip, and her shoulders began to shake with nerves, he reached out for her.

“Tell me, Blake. What’s going on?”

She looked at him and pulled away from his touch. He tried not to let that hurt. “I…I’ll tell you inside.”

“You can tell me here,” he said slowly.

“Please?”

He nodded and got out of the car as she did. He didn’t speak as he opened the front door and let them both inside. What he really wanted right then was a beer, but he had a feeling he shouldn’t even stop to do that right then.

Graham folded his arms over his chest. “What is it, Blake?”

She rolled her shoulders back. “I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to come as a surprise. But I want you to know, there are reasons, very,
very
important reasons why I did what I did.”

Unease crept up his spine. “What did you do?”

Blake met his eyes. “I have a daughter. Her name is Rowan, and she’s ten years old.”

Shock slammed into him, forcing him back a step. His mouth went dry, and he tried to think about what she’d said, tried to comprehend.

Words spiraled in his brain, a cascade of darkness and truths that threatened the very foundation he stood on.

Daughter.

Rowan.

Ten years old.

“What the fuck?” he gasped. “You didn’t tell me? Didn’t tell me you have a fucking
daughter
? We’ve been together for weeks now. We
fucked,
and you didn’t tell me?”

She shook her head, her eyes clear but frightened. “I couldn’t tell you. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t tell people about her, and I have good reasons why I don’t. Reasons she’s a secret. But with you…it snowballed. I tried to tell you before, and then things got out of control. Yes, I should have told you before this, and that’s on me. But, Graham, there are
reasons
.”

“You think I give a damn about your reasons? All I’m hearing is that you think nothing of me, nothing of your
child
. She’s not good enough for you to share? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

This time, it was anger that leapt into her eyes. “No, that is so far off the mark. She’s my everything. I wanted to tell you, I did. But it was too early at first. It’s not safe if I just blurt her out like that. And then, when I thought it might be time, you told me about Cynthia.” This time, she blinked away tears. “And I didn’t want to mention Rowan so soon. I didn’t know the right time, Graham.”

At the sound of Cynthia’s name, he felt the blood drain from his face. His heart ached at the thought of his daughter, and yet there was this other little girl out there the same damn age as Cynthia would have been, and yet, Blake had hidden her like a dirty secret. It was like he didn’t even know the woman in front of him, and damned if he wanted to listen to her anymore.

“Get out,” he whispered, low, dangerous.

“I came here that morning to tell you…but things got out of control.”

He remembered her saying something about that, but if her daughter were that important to her, she should have tried harder. If
he
was that important to her, she should have tried harder.

“So it’s my fault?” he bellowed. “What the fuck? You didn’t tell me. You
lied
. Your daughter is the same age as my daughter would have been. Don’t you get that? Don’t you get that just the idea of Rowan hurts? It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t hate the idea that you have a child when I don’t. But that’s what you’ve done to me. I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“Of course, I know the ages,” she whispered. “That’s why I freaked out and made mistake after mistake.” She met his eyes. “But Rowan
isn’t
a mistake.”

“Get out.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t deal with you. I can’t even
look
at you. Just go.”

“Graham, we can talk about this.”

“No, we can’t. You didn’t want drama? Fine. Get the fuck out. We’re over.”

She looked at him again but nodded after a long moment. Without another word, she left him standing in his living room, alone and breaking all over again. She had a kid. A freaking kid, who could have been friends with his baby girl.

Blake had the opportunity to watch her daughter grow, to watch the world grow with her, and Graham didn’t have that. While Blake had hidden her daughter, Graham had tried to bring Cynthia out more.

The fact that he’d only told Blake about Cynthia because Candice had shown up crossed his mind but he pushed it away. He didn’t know what he’d have done if things were different, but either way, he’d never have purposely hidden his child’s memory.

His heart felt like someone had squeezed it until the blood vessels burst and there was nothing left but an ache and the memory of what could never be.

Graham went to his front door and locked it, knowing Blake wouldn’t be back. She had too much pride. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see her anyway. He might be working on her family’s home—a home that he still didn’t know the story about—and he might be connected to the place she worked through family, but that didn’t mean he had to see her again.

She’d broken something inside him, and he didn’t want to find a way to fix it.

He hated the fact that her lies had forced him to resent a little girl for merely being. And for that…for that, he might not ever forgive Blake.

Or himself.

Blake knew she’d messed up, but even though sadness filled her, it did nothing to quench the anger.

Four days.

It had been four days.

Four days since she’d told Graham the truth and had ruined any chance she had with him. Yet she knew that no matter the outcome, she’d probably have done the same thing she had initially. Rowan was far too important to her to just let anyone know about her. And that twisted sense of logic was why Blake tried to avoid drama in the first place.

The sadness came from the knowledge that she had a relationship that was over before it had even begun. She ached for Graham’s loss and his inability to move on, but she couldn’t blame him for the latter. If she lost Rowan, she didn’t know what she’d do. The fact that she’d kept her daughter to herself because of those who would not only hurt her and Rowan, but also take her baby away, spoke of only a small fraction of what Blake would do.

But Blake couldn’t help but be angry, as well. Graham hadn’t let her explain, hadn’t let her open up and tell him more than she’d told another soul in her life. She’d wanted to explain why she’d left her parents all those years ago, and why it hurt her to step foot in the house he was currently renovating. From there, she’d have told him about Rowan’s father and why Blake had done her best to keep her daughter in the shadows without dampening her inherent brightness.

The rollercoaster of the past decade wore on Blake, and the fact that she’d thought she could trust Graham with it told her how close to breaking she’d been. Graham hadn’t wanted to listen, hadn’t wanted anything except Blake to be gone. Yes, she’d lied—or omitted the truth—but it had been for good reasons. At least, good in her mind. In the process of trying to keep her family safe, she’d hurt Graham. Because of that, she’d lost him.

So, yes, she was sad, but she was angry, too. Not just at him, but at the situation and those who’d put her in this position in the first place.

One person who she would never be angry at for just
being
was her daughter. Everything Blake did, every lie she told, every person she had to push away, was for Rowan. And that would never change.

“Mom?”

Rowan’s voice brought Blake out of her thoughts, and she turned to her daughter. Rowan smiled as she bounced into the living room, her backpack in her hand and her hair out of its ponytail again.

Blake snorted and held out a hand. “Come here, squirt. Didn’t I just help you with your hair?”

Rowan shrugged and bounced again. Blake’s kid was forever bouncing, or talking, or bouncing and talking. It took all the energy Blake had at the end of a long day to keep up with her, and yet, she wouldn’t change it for anything.

“It wasn’t even,” Rowan said. “I like things even.”

Forever her mother’s daughter. “Yeah, but it was even when I did it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Were you by any chance hanging upside down over your bed instead of going through your spelling words?”

Rowan looked at the corner of the ceiling and tried to whistle. It came out as a breathy hum since she couldn’t actually whistle, and Blake did her best to not crack up at it. Seriously, with this kid.