Gracie smiles down into her tea, the steam fogging up into her face. “When my family immigrated from Japan, I was the only Asian kid in my school. My English was rough back then.” She shrugs as if she’s long since made peace with it. “Some kids thought that made me an easy target.” My chest tightens. Understanding.
“One day, Thomas stepped in. Maybe because he knew what it felt like to stand out. His mom’s Black; his dad’s Irish. No one messed with him, knowing Troy’s would be pissed, if they did.” Her mouth curves. “After that, the bullying stopped. Mostly because no one wanted to deal with Troy. No one messed with Troy until Cyan.”
“Troy?” I lean forward. “Wait, you mean they weren’t always best friends?”
Gracie laughs. “Hardly. Cyan transferred mid-semester during my third year. Total nerd, quiet and very smart.” She pauses. “I don’t know what set it off, but he called Troy an idiot in math class. After school, Troy and his crew beat the crap out of him. That same night, Cyan and Collin lost their family in a house fire.” I don’t correct her assumption about Cyan’s family. It’s not my story to tell.
“We all thought he’d go back to Ireland,” Gracie says, shrugging. “But two weeks later, he showed up at school, but he was different.”
Her eyes flick up, meeting mine. “He walked straight up to Troy and beat him so badly it took three teachers to pull him off.” Tasha lets out a low whistle. “After that, they were inseparable. To this day, to my knowledge, Cyan’s the only guy who ever beat Troy like that. That’s how he earned their respect.” Gracie finishes.
“Men,” Tasha mutters, shaking her head. “I will never understand them. Do they fear him?”
“No,” Gracie glances toward Rosa. “Right?”
Rosa nods once. “They don’t fear him. They respect him.” Her voice is certain. “Cyan’s the eldest brother in everything but blood. He’d give them his right hand, and they’d bleed for him in return.” She looks at me. “And now you to Aria. They protect you in the same way. You make him happy.”
Emotion swells in my throat. “Thank you, Rosa, but you’re giving me too much credit.”
She presses a hand to her chest. “No, I’m telling the truth.” A small smile touches her lips. “When Troy said they were going to a baseball game today, Cyan went, no complaints. That’s rare. He rarely stops long enough to enjoy what he’s built.”
Tasha nods. “I hate to say it, but she’s right. Before he left, Cyan apologized to us for last night, and then he disappeared with the boys, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.”
Gracie snorts. “Let’s be clear… Cyan MacBrady does not apologize. He takes what he wants and doesn’t explain himself to anyone.”
Saaha sets her cup down. “I didn’t know his reputation,” she says. “But a few months ago, I was in Texas, desperate for a sponsor for my dementia village. He reached out me and boom six months later; it was fully built. His only condition? A place where your grandmother could be a patient.” Tears sting my eyes. After last night, I didn’t think I’d have any more tears left. “A man doesn’t do that, unless he cares deeply.” Saaha adds.
Tasha reaches out and nudges my hand. “Look, Ari. I doubted your choice. Hell, I doubted it yesterday.” Her smile softens. “But anyone with eyes can see how happy you are. So, fuck everyone, including me, and go after your happiness.”
“I love him,” I say, my voice shaking. “Thank you. All of you.” I swipe at my tears. “Aunt Cathy won’t even take my calls.”
They all get to their feet and close in around me without a word. For the first time, it really sinks in. I’ve found my people. “Okay,” I say, laughing through tears. “Enough crying. Non-alcoholic margaritas. Trashy movies. No cooking. We’re ordering out. Rosa, I’m talking about you. I’m the bride. You’re legally obligated to listen.”
Rosa chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”
That’s how we spend the afternoon, laughing, sprawled together, letting the world wait.
Fifty- Four
“Sometimes perfume smells sweet at first, but under it all, you could smell the rot.” Aria Boschett.
It’s 8:50 PM when the intercom rings. Not wanting Rosa to leave her relaxed position on the couch, I rush to answer. “Hello.”
“Ms. Boschett. A Mrs. O’Connor and her daughter are requesting permission to enter the tower.” George White, Chester’s replacement and very much a product of Cyan’s tightened security, sounds crisp on the other end.
“Who? I don’t know anybody named Mrs. O’Connor,” I say, already moving to hang up, but George’s rushed reply stops me.
“She said it’s Lucilla and Evie. Mrs. O’Connor says she’s here to see Thomas, but he’s not answering his phone, and she needs to drop off Evie.” What the hell is she doing in Boston, away from the safety of the Crescent Bay estate? With all the shit going on with Lorenzo, I can’t risk her wandering around the city with Evie in tow. I know Thomas is with Cyan and the guys, so she and Evie will have to stay here, though Lucilla staying will be awkward.
“Sure. Let them up,” I reply. The thought of Evie alone with her half-drunk mother makes my decision a no-brainer. I call out to the girls, “Hey, Rosa, Lucilla’s here with Evie. I see Gracie’s body tense, her shoulders inching upward at the announcement. ““She’s coming up.” I scan my palm to activate the elevator.
We’re all sitting on the couch when the elevator dings. As the doors slide open, Evie bursts out. Beside me, Gracie goes even more rigid. Lucilla struts in wearing spray-painted-on jeans, a barely-there crop top, and sky-high heels. Evie’s little backpack dangles off her arm like an accessory. I don’t know how she hasn’t broken an ankle yet.
“Thanks, princess, for taking her. I’m not staying.” She digs through her purse, her voice already a bit slurry. Great, she’s started drinking early. “I’m heading out with my girls tonight. Elana needs a bit of cheering up,” she adds without looking up, pulling out what looks like lipstick. Of course, those are her priorities: vodka, lipstick, child. In that order. Reaching the living area she glances up. Her eyes widen with genuine surprise when she sees Gracie. Her mouth parts a bit before she masks her reaction with a bright, artificial smile, slipping into performance mode. “Why, Gracie? I wasn’t aware you were back in town. You could’ve at least called your best friend.” Her smile stretches as she saunters closer, tossing Evie’s backpack onto the couch and crossing her arms. “We haven’t seen each other in what, almost seven years? Right around the time I married Thomas.”
“Come, Evie. Want some yogurt? I think there’s mango in the entertainment room,” Rosa says as she quickly rises and takes the little girl’s hand.
“Yay!” Evie squeals. “Mango!”
