The Name of the Game (32 page)

Shane and James just stared at him, unblinking.

Why did that actually make sense?

Shane said, “Just shut the fuck up and look pretty.”

Evan shot Shane the finger. “Like you'd ever do that to Cecilia.”

James frowned at his older brother.

Shane's gaze slid guiltily away. He asked, “What was I supposed to do?”

James clenched his hands into fists. “So, what, you were just trying to fix it?”

Shane shook his head. “No. I wanted to help. You never ask for shit, never want any help, and never talk to anyone. So when you did, I wasn't going to say no.”

Evan nodded. “He's got a point.”

James clenched his jaw. “Stop acting like an adult, it's annoying.”

Shane grinned. “I'd agree, but you're on my side. For once.”

“You're both pretty much idiots,” Evan said, picking up the Xbox controller. “If you need advice about women, you should have come to me, Jimmy.”

James snorted.

Shane leaned forward on his elbows. “Your last girlfriend didn't last a month.”

“It was a good month, one for the record books,” Evan said, although he didn't look particularly pleased.

“Didn't Gracie turn you down?” James said, feeling a bit smug in his drunken state.

Evan laughed and elbowed James in the ribs. “Yeah, she did. I've got to hand it to you. You landed one of the top ten hottest girls I've ever laid eyes on. And I've seen a lot of gorgeous women. She wouldn't even let me get close enough to make a move, and believe me, I tried.”

James frowned.
Had
landed. He'd lost her quick enough.

Shane chuckled. “That must have been a novel experience.”

“Fuck you,” Evan said, but his tone was good-natured. “I chalked it up to too many ties between us. I didn't realize who I was competing with.”

Shane turned to James and raised a brow. “True.”

James pondered the idea that he was finally a contender on par with his brothers. It shouldn't matter, and really it didn't, but he still remembered how he felt as a teenage boy, all those years ago.

Shane grabbed the paper bag he'd brought, pulling out a bottle and setting it on the table.

James squinted at the label. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep,” Shane said.

It was a bottle of 1951 Knappogue Castle Irish whiskey. The mythical vintage their father had always wanted to try.

“One of Cecilia's relatives gave it to us as an engagement present.” Shane shrugged. “I figured I might as well waste it on you two.”

Evan vaulted from the couch. “A couple of sips shouldn't hurt my game day performance.”

A smile tugged at James's lips, when he'd been sure he'd never smile again.

Evan returned with three glasses and set them down on the table.

Shane grabbed the bottle and twisted off the cap. “I wish Dad could see us.”

They all glanced away, looking off at an unseen horizon. James swallowed the tightness in his throat, understanding his brothers did the same.

The moment passed and Shane poured the amber liquid into the glasses. When they each had one in hand, Shane raised his. “To brothers.”

A long tradition they'd carried on since they'd gotten drunk in a dive pub three blocks from the house they grew up in after their dad died. The bartender had known their father and looked the other way at James's and Evan's underage drinking.

“To brothers.” They clinked glasses in a toast, as they had all those years ago. As they would in all the years to come.

Chapter Thirty

So this was heartbreak.

Gracie had never been so miserable in her life. In Cecilia's guest bedroom, she'd tossed and turned, unable to sink into sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, she'd heard Shane come home. He'd clearly been drunk, making too much noise and calling out Cecilia's name. The last thing Gracie heard him say before their bedroom door had closed was that he loved her and he was too old to sleep on a couch.

Gracie had turned over and wept into her pillow, irrationally wishing James would come banging on the door and demand entry.

But, of course, he hadn't. And why would he? She'd made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

Early this morning, eyes gritty from crying and lack of sleep, she'd dragged herself out of bed and snuck out of Shane and Cecilia's house so she wouldn't have to face them.

She'd had no choice but to go to James's to get her stuff, but he hadn't been there. She'd cried some more before she finally pulled herself together and loaded her stuff into her truck.

It was over. Really and truly over. She tried to tell herself she'd known it would never last, but her heart wasn't buying it. The more time she spent with James the more she'd begun to believe in them.

But it was over.

It was the right move. He'd interfered in her business. He'd planned her life and hadn't even bothered to consult her.

She couldn't forgive that.

Now she stood in a room at the Drake Hotel, people milling around her in preparation for the wedding reception that would take place a couple of hours from now, and she'd never been so miserable.

She studied her work, a five-tier red velvet wedding cake covered in white frosting, with thick black ribbons, big crystal snowflakes, and topped with roses. It looked beautiful and sophisticated, but Gracie took no joy in her creation today.

All she wanted was to be done so she could get out of Chicago.

“I remember you,” a delicate feminine voice said from behind her.

Gracie turned around and blinked.

Of all the people in the world she could run into, it had to be the one person Gracie least wanted to see. In front of her, like a bad nightmare, stood Lindsey Lord, James's physicist ex-girlfriend. She looked spectacular as ever in a red taffeta bridesmaid dress. The spaghetti straps showed off her dancer's frame, graceful neck, and fine bone structure.

Gracie clenched her teeth. There was no justice in this world. She was at her absolute worst and Lindsey looked like a freakin' prima ballerina.

When Gracie didn't speak, Lindsey gave her an elegant smile. “We met at the restaurant. You were with James, right?”

“Yes,” Gracie said, willing her voice not to crack.

“How funny, running into you. This is my sister's wedding. I promised her I'd come check everything. You know how brides are.”

Gracie nodded, unable to speak.

“What a small world. I had no idea you were the wedding-cake designer she's been raving about. She was thrilled to get you after the place she'd ordered from originally closed up shop without a word to any of their customers. Ashley was in a panic and you came to her rescue.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

Another serene smile. “The cake is lovely. My sister will be so happy.”

“Thank you.” Gracie's throat was so tight that's all she could manage to say, and an awkward silence thickened the air between them.

Lindsey's hand fluttered to her clearly defined clavicles. “How's James?”

Gracie felt tears well in her eyes and she blinked them frantically away. “I'm sure he's fine.”

Lindsey's arched brows drew together in concern. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine, thanks.” Gracie attempted her most dazzling smile, but she could feel the corners quiver.

Lindsey frowned. “I know that look. I wore it myself for too many months to count after James. It's the worst thing about him. He's such a heartbreaker and he doesn't even know it.”

Gracie's dull, sleep-deprived brain tried to wrap itself around what the other woman was saying and she managed to squeak out, “He broke your heart?”

“Yes,” Lindsey said. “Terribly.”

Gracie was so confused. Had she missed something? “But I thought you broke up with him.”

Lindsey shook her head. “No, everyone assumed I was the one, and he was kind enough to never say anything. But the truth is, he broke up with me.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.” It was so infuriatingly like him. Why bother setting the record straight?

“I was devastated. I thought he was the one. I can't deny I harbored some hope.” Lindsey offered a ghost of a smile. “But as soon as I saw you in the restaurant I knew you were the one.”

Gracie frowned. They'd barely been speaking in the restaurant. She should end this conversation, but she was too curious. Too greedy for information about him. “Why? We weren't together.”

Lindsey smoothed a palm over her dress as though smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. “I guess it was the way you couldn't stop watching each other.”

“Gracie!” James's voice echoed through the large room, loud enough that everyone working stopped to gape at him.

She whipped around, her heart leaping into her throat at the sight of him sprinting through the hall, weaving through tables. He looked terrible. His hair was a disheveled mess. His clothes wrinkled, his shirt untucked.

As he drew closer, Gracie could see the bags under his eyes and a sickly pallor to his skin. She'd never seen him look so awful. He came to a crashing halt and put his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

He reeked of alcohol.

“James?” Gracie was so startled by his appearance she forgot to be angry. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “No. I'm not.”

“What's wrong?”

His head shot up. “You don't know?”

Gracie shot a sidelong glance at Lindsey, who watched them with avid interest. “Well, I meant, apart from the obvious.”

He took more deep breaths and sat down at a table, dropping his head between his knees as he panted. “Give me a minute.”

“What happened to you?”

He raised his head, and his green eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses. “I'm dying.”

“Of alcohol poisoning.” Gracie waved a hand in the air to encompass the room behind her where they were starting to draw a crowd. “James, I'm working.”

“I know. But it couldn't wait.” He glanced sideways, and his expression twisted as he seemed to notice Lindsey for the first time. “What are you doing here?”

Lindsey blinked, her eyes going wide with what could only be shock. “Ashley is getting married today.”

“Oh.” James turned green, and dropped his head into his hands. “Kill me.”

“Are you going to be sick?” Gracie asked, frantically scanning the room for a trash can.

James shook his head. “I'm okay. I couldn't get a cab, so I had to run. I threw up three times on the way over, so I think I'm done.”

A smile quivered at her lips. He was a mess. A complete, utter disaster. Even worse off than she was. God bless him. “I see.”

James sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Gracie, I know what I did was stupid. I should have talked to you and I pretty much screwed up in every way a man could, but I'm sorry, I can't let you go. You're just going to have to find away to forgive me.”

“James,” Gracie said, her heart swelling.

“No, Gracie. I won't take no for an answer. I love you and that's final. We're going to have to work it out.”

“I—” she began, but he cut her off.

“And when I mean work it out I mean find a way to be in the same fucking city for more than two goddamn seconds.”

He was yelling and people were starting to stare.

“We—”

He pounded his fist on the table. “Do you want me to quit my job? Is that it? If you want me to, I will. I don't think the junior college by your house has a forensic program, but I could switch to consulting full-time.” He scratched his head. “But I might have to travel more.”

“Let's—” Gracie said, only for him to hold up a hand.

“What can I do to make it up to you? Can't you just give me the benefit of the doubt? Is that so hard? I've never done this before; I'm lost. And all this drama is making me stupid.” All of a sudden his eyes narrowed and he gave Lindsey a sharp glance. “Do you mind?”

Lindsey blinked.

Gracie gasped. That was so unlike him. “James, you're being rude.”

James stood and threw up his hands. “Well, I'm sorry, but I'd prefer not to grovel while my ex-girlfriend enjoys the show. Is that so damn hard to understand?”

Gracie pressed her lips together. “Um—”

James glowered and yelled, “I mean I know how you love to make all the men you sleep with into best friends, and I understand I'll have to hang around with Charlie for the rest of my life, but can't I just have this one thing? Or do I have to start inviting her over for dinner to prove I'm liberal enough?”

Gracie had no idea what he was talking about. But all the crazy emotions that had been riding her hard for weeks settled into something peaceful.

James—reserved, conservative, never-make-a-scene James—was a basket case. He was drunk. Irrational. Impossible.

And making a huge scene. God, she loved him.

Pretty much everyone had stopped what they were doing to enjoy the show, so Gracie really couldn't blame Lindsey for hanging out to see what would happen next.

“What do I have to do, Gracie? You make me so crazy. Since the day we met, you have been a pain in my ass.” He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end, giving him a deranged, wild look. “Do you understand how difficult you are, woman?”

Gracie shook her head, wondering what twisted part of her loved him more every time he yelled at her.

He turned to Lindsey. “What does she want from me? She's moody, scared of commitment, doesn't like to talk about her feelings, is irrational, and gets hit on everywhere we go. I mean, I haven't paid for a drink since I started seeing her.”

Lindsey seemed speechless.

Gracie knocked him in the shoulder. “Hey! Do you think you're any sort of prize, buddy?”

“Yeah, actually I do!” he hollered.

“Ha!” Now she turned to Lindsey. “He tried to open a bakery for me and didn't even tell me. He's bossy, arrogant, annoyingly calm when I disagree with him, runs ten miles a day, and counts carbs. Do you know how irritating it is to stay up half the night and have someone bound out of bed the next morning and put on exercise clothes?”

“Um—I—um . . .” Lindsey trailed off, offering up one of her peaceful smiles.

Gracie huffed and scowled at James.

He pointed at her chest. “Don't even pretend you don't like when I'm bossy. You loved it.”

With every moment that passed, their fight slid further and further out of control, and she felt better. Hopeful. “During sex, sure, but not all the time.”

“So you
did
like it,” he said, tone accusing.

“Of course I liked it, you idiot. What's not to like? But then you had to go and get all nice on me and I won't have it.”

“I was taking it easy on you!” He roared loud enough that the whole room stilled.

“Who asked you to?”

“For Christ's sake, Gracie—”

“Excuse me.” An older man, with dark hair and graying temples, stood there in a navy suit, his hands clasped behind his back. “I'm the banquet manager here at the hotel, is there a problem?”

“Go away,” James bellowed. “Can't you see I'm trying to apologize to my woman?”

Gracie couldn't help the smile on her lips. So James had a caveman streak; she could live with that.

“Sir,” the man said in a soothing, reasonable voice. “I'm going to have to ask you to calm down or I'm afraid you'll have to leave.”

James looked at Gracie, and all of a sudden whatever color he had in his face drained away. “You're right, that is annoying.”

Then he passed out, falling flat on his face on the floor.

“Wow!” Lindsey exclaimed to Gracie, staring down at James lying in a heap. “He really loves you.”

“Yeah, he does.” Gracie giggled.

Professor James Donovan was crazy after all.

 

 

James woke up in his bed disoriented, with a pounding headache and no recollection of how he came to be home. He moaned and rolled over, as jackhammers pounded against his temples and his stomach rolled.

He squeezed his eyelids together and thought back. He'd been at Evan's, he hadn't slept, he'd definitely drank. In the wee hours of the morning Shane had gone home, Evan had gone to bed. James stayed up playing video games, analyzing the situation. The more he thought, the more crazy he became, until suddenly it was like something broke in him, and he'd determined the only thing to do was find Gracie.

And he had, at the Drake Hotel. He'd made a huge scene. He'd yelled. She'd yelled. He frowned, and it hurt his skull. Was Lindsey there? Why was she there? Had it been a dream?

Then he remembered the manager threatening to throw him out, and the smile on Gracie's face. As though she was proud of him, which made a strange kind of sense—she did like her grand gestures.

That was the last thing he remembered, the brilliant smile she reserved just for him, before the world went black.