“We were good together. And I’m not making excuses for anything I did, but it was a mistake. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me,” he pleaded.
“You cheated on me, Grant,” she said, a little wound that she’d thought had healed cracking open inside of her. “You broke my trust.”
He dropped his head, voice pained when he said, “I know. It was a terrible mistake. Brynn was a mistake.”
“The woman you’re planning on marrying next week? Seems like you’re really sending her mixed messages.” She tried to hide the disgust that wanted to work its way across her features at the idea that Grant was laying himself at Sydney’s feet, all while Brynn was planning their future together.
He ran his hands down his thighs and took a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”
“I think I can follow along.”
“I did cheat, but Brynn was the only one. I promise.” Debatable, but Sydney waited for him to continue. “I was trying to break it off with her, but The Devereux Group was gearing up to do business with Stan. So when you broke up with me and I admitted to my dad what had happened, he told me that I needed to see things with Brynn through. That this was an opportunity to secure our family’s future. I’d just lost you, and I wasn’t thinking straight.” He ran a hand through his hair, and it seemed like he was almost talking to himself when he said, “This whole thing has gotten so out of control. I never wanted this.”
Sydney didn’t think she’d had any more disgust left, but she found some deep inside of her, and it welled up at the thought of what a terrible person Tripp Devereux truly was.
But Reese and Grant had been raised in the same home, andthey couldn’t be more different. For any sympathy she felt toward Grant at living his life under his father’s thumb, it was a decision he’d made, ultimately, and, worse than that, he’d been willing to leave as much collateral damage in his wake as necessary all to stay on Tripp’s good side.
For what? A job? A flimsy at best legacy?
He truly was his father’s son.
“Say the word, and the wedding is off. It’s always been you, Sydney. Do you know how hard it’s been this summer, watching you with Reese?” he lamented, genuine pain in his voice.
“Grant, that’s?—”
“We can move to Stoneport now. Start a family. Our plan doesn’t need to change. We got together too young, and I made a mistake. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. How good we were together.”
“I only ever thought our relationship was good because you showed me the side of yourself that you wanted me to see,” Sydney bit back, losing her patience at his mawkishness.
She started to stand up, but Grant’s hand captured her own. “Sydney, please. I’m begging you; we can make this work. I will do everything in my power to make this work. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’d be an idiot to let you get away.”
She hated how his hand felt, holding on to hers, her body revolting at everything about him. His cologne, the same one he’d always worn. His too-soft fingers, which had never known a day of real work. And his eyes, pleading with her but only seeing what he wanted to see in them.
It was the realization that she was nothing more than a prop to him that settled deep in her bones; she didn’t think he had it in him to be the type of person who understood what it meant to truly love someone else.
The compromise.
The trust.
The want to truly exist as a team, whatever that brought.
The way she loved Reese.
Despite the love flowing through her body at the thought of Reese, her face painted a different picture as she looked at Grant. She could feel her features morph with disdain as she pulled her hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” she said and was grateful that he immediately let go. She took a step back. “I’m already gone, Grant. You just need to accept it.”
She left the lobby before he could follow, her phone already out to call Reese.
Sydney awoke to knocking on her door, the sky still enveloped in darkness. She’d managed to fall asleep a few hours ago. After she’d called Reese and told her everything that had happened. After she’d taken a long, hot shower before falling into bed, intent on washing any traces of Grant and their conversation from her mind and her body.
It took her a few seconds to orient herself in the darkness, and she rubbed at her tired eyes, but once she heard the light knock again, she padded over to the door, willing away her apprehension.
Her conversation with Grant didn’t feel real, and if she’d woken up a few hours from now, you could have probably convinced her that it was all a strange dream.
But it had happened, and she was letting the reality of that settle in her.
Still, she wasn’t going to take any chances. She’d had overzealous fans in the past, though none she’d shared quite as personal of a relationship with. Unfortunately, that meant that she knew the rigamarole when there was the threat of fanaticism.
