One More Chance(68)

That was no excuse. His son had said he was at the hospital and his child had been born and asked his father to call him. He should have called. His job wasn’t more important than his son. And he had a pretty damn fantastic son. “Grant’s a wonderful man. A great man. The kind of man anyone would be proud to call theirs. I’ll be proud to call him my husband, and I know Lila Kate already adores him. She follows the sound of his voice when he’s in a room. She’ll never have a moment in her life when she won’t be proud of her father. Men don’t get any better than Grant. He’s the best. And I recognize that. I cherish it and honor it.

“But you don’t realize the gift you have. He wants a real relationship with you. I can see the hurt in his eyes when your name comes up. My crazy, wild, rock-star father was there at the hospital with us. He isn’t perfect, but he cared. He was there. He had to deal with fans and media while he was there, but he was there. You couldn’t even call your son back and ask if he was OK. If his baby was OK. I don’t understand you, Mr. Carter.”

I decided to stop. I could scold this man and tell him how awful he was all day long, but I had said all that needed to be said.

Brett Carter stood up and stuck his hands into his pockets. He was leaving. Well, good riddance. He hadn’t even stuck around to hold his granddaughter. I wondered if she would ever know this man. Or would her only grandparent be the one and only Kiro Manning?

“You’re right. About all of it,” he said as he started for the door. He stopped just outside the arched doorway. “I’m glad he found you. You’re worthy of him. He’s a lucky man.”

Then he left.





Nan


I held the invitation in my hand as I stood at the edge of the water and let the waves crash and wash over my feet. If I stood here long enough, my feet would sink in the sand to my ankles. It was an odd habit, but I did this almost every day, except in the winter when the water was just too cold.

Today I had come out here to think. I’d expected the invitation to arrive. It was happening. That much I had known even before I heard that Grant had knocked up Harlow. But seeing it was different. It was more final.

Once I had thought that Grant Carter was the one man who would see me. The me underneath. The me I was scared to show the world. The me who had been so emotionally bruised because I’d worn my heart on my sleeve as a kid. When I got older, I put that me on lockdown so tightly it made it impossible for people to hurt me.

But it made it easy for them to hate me.

There were very few people who didn’t just use me. My brother was Rush Finlay, son of the famous drummer Dean Finlay. For years, my so-called friends just wanted to get near my brother. They wanted an in. And I let them have it, because watching him screw them and throw them away was what they deserved. It was my way of taking revenge.

Then I had found out Rush wasn’t the only one with a celebrity father. Kiro Manning had been my dad all along. Yet he had never claimed me or tried to have any relationship with me. That had almost cracked me and the steel walls around my heart. His refusal to acknowledge me had almost made me completely lose my mind. Rush had been there, though, and he’d loved me. He had always been the one to love me. When no one else did, my big brother accepted me no matter how awful I acted. He didn’t approve, but he saw the me underneath.

Then Blaire had taken him from me. She’d won his heart and given him a son, and now he had little room for his messed-up sister. I hated Blaire for that. I hated that she took him away. I wanted to hate their kid, too, but damned if Nate wasn’t the cutest kid in the world. I couldn’t hate him. It was impossible.

Grant Carter had stepped in and been there when I needed someone to care. Rush was busy with his new family, and Grant had taken over his role with a different twist. Grant wasn’t my brother, and he was gorgeous. So we started screwing around, too—a friends-with-benefits thing. He didn’t expect me to be nice, and I didn’t expect him to just fuck me. He was so sweet at times, and he made things better when no one else could. Or even wanted to. He knew how to make me laugh.

But just like any good thing that comes my way, I pushed him away because I had let him get too close. I refused to accept that maybe he could love me. I was terrified to open myself up to rejection yet again.

While I was pushing Grant away, his head was turned by the complete opposite of me. A girl who had the love of her father. She was quiet and unassuming. She wasn’t mean to anyone. Ever. She was matter-of-fact but soft-spoken. She was the perfect person for Grant. I was not. I was the fucked-up brat who didn’t feel secure enough to let herself get close to someone.