Gramps sat silently in a chair and watched me as I talked to Smith's brother and nephews. Out of nowhere, his granddad blurted out that I looked like Caroline.
My heart stopped for a full two beats at that moment.
He moved to sit next to me then and told me stories about when they were both children in the house. He'd push her onthe swing that used to hang from a tree out back; a tree that was chopped down at some point and replaced with a fountain and a statue of a dog.
He showed me the garden and the kitchen where my grandma used to sit on the floor and draw.
Then he pointed out the pantry and the script of her name that is still barely visible on the door.
Smith bought that home for his family so his grandpa could enjoy the memories he made there and so his brother, his wife and their sons could create a life there for themselves.
"My grandma knew your grandpa," I say through a small sob. "You bought the house for him. I wanted to buy it for her."
"You wanted to buy the house?" He ushers me across the roof to where the two chairs are. "Do you want to sit?"
"No." I shake my head. "I mean yes. I wanted to buy the house. I don't want to sit."
"We need to back up." He reaches for both of my hands and I let him. I don't pull away because I need the comfort. I've been aching for it since I left the brownstone. "Why did you go there, Brynn? What made you think I live there?"
I don't know which direction to head with this. I can tell him that I saw him outside when I was semi-stalking the place or I can tell him I made a broker break his code of ethics by telling me that Smith was the person who bought the brownstone. I decide to tell him the truth. "I did see you on the street with groceries the other day. I was on the sidewalk across from the brownstone. Also, three years ago I asked someone to check who bought the place when Sigrid put it up for sale. I know it was you."
He takes a measured step back but his hands don't leave mine. "Do you know Sigrid?"
Would it matter at this point if I did? I don't give a shit that the two of them were likely sharing an expensive bottle ofchampagne along with a great fuck to celebrate Smith closing on her brownstone. I do give two shits about the fact that my life feels like it just fell off the edge of the earth and I'm coasting through the universe with nothing to ground me right now. "No. I never met her. I got her name from the agent I used to help me place my offer."
"Your offer?"
I pull my hands from his to scrub the back of my neck with my fingers. "The offer I put in for the brownstone, Smith. That's how I knew who Sigrid was. That's also why I called you twice asking you to put in a good word for me with her so she would accept my offer. I wanted to live in that house with my grandma. It was her dream. She told me she spent the happiest moments of her life in that house."
He stumbles back until his heels hit the edge of one of the chairs. He lowers himself down into the seat. "What the hell? What?"
"What the hell about what?" I parrot back. "You already know all of this."
He rests both of his elbows on his thighs, his head hanging down. "I know none of this, Brynn. None of it. I had no idea you wanted that place. I never got a call from you. You and I only spoke on the phone once, and that was when you were at Easton Pub and I came to get you."
Technically, that's true. "I left you two voicemail messages about Sigrid's place. I never heard back."
He looks down at the phone in his hand. "You called what number?"
"Your number," I say exasperated.
"Julian gave you my number?" He waves his phone in the air.
"No." I swallow past the lump in my throat. "I wanted to buy the house on my own and surprise my family, so I didn't ask forany of their help, not even Julian's. I called your office in Los Angeles. You were doing that Hollywood gossip show then."
A grin peaks the corners of his mouth. "It was an entertainment newsmagazine."
I don't want to love that smile as much as I do right now but my heart won't let me hate it anymore, or him. "You didn't get my messages, did you?"
"Not a one." He taps his phone against the arm of the chair. "My assistant screened all my calls. She had hundreds a day to run through. A lot of them were from women wanting to talk directly to me so I gave her carte blanche to delete everything she didn't think was worth my time."
That explains that.
"You said you put an offer in on the brownstone?" His jaw tightens. "Sigrid told me that mine was the only one on the table."
Since we're putting everything out there, I take it an extra step. "My offer was full ask, cash, a thirty day close and no contingencies."
My eyes wander to the view of the Brooklyn Bridge. It's no wonder he was staring in that direction the other night. It's the place he now calls home.
