He pulled her close. "He wanted to do what was best for you, baby."
She nodded. "I know. But I've figured out that what society demands and what my heart needs aren't at all in synch. I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up."
"And what is that?" Eric asked, getting close.
"Happy. I think that might be all that matters. I'm going to marry you both because I love you and you make me happy. I hope our kids don't react the way my dad did to my grandmother's choices, but I really think if he'd lived, he would have forgiven her at some point." She gave him a brilliant smile. "So that explains a whole lot. I need to take a shower before the contractors come back and kick me out of the bathroom. Can someone figure out where Kellan is? I hate the thought of him being out there all alone, especially if he's drinking."
Eric nodded. "I'll find him. Tate can stay here and do the cleansing thing with you. I'll have a nice long talk with our partner."
Belle smiled and disappeared into the bathroom.
He held out his hand, shaking Eric's. "I'm going to set the camera up properly with a motion detector and attach the feed to our phones. We'll get a text when movement kicks it on. I'll set it to start running after Belle's ready."
"Perfect. I'll find Kell."
"Do what you need to in order to get his ass home and some sense into his brain."
If he couldn't, Tate knew Belle would always miss Kellan. Hell, he would miss the bastard. There would be a piece of them missing if Kellan wasn't with them. They would go on without him, but Tate thought they should at least try to talk some sense into him.
"Will do." Eric sighed and shook his head. "But please put on some pants."
Tate shrugged, promising nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
Eric stared at the bar where he'd tracked Kellan's cell phone. He was pretty sure the cell would be attached to Kellan since he never went anywhere without it. That made him easy to find.
The bar was a seedy little place a few blocks off the Quarter. Blinking neon lights illuminated the soft evening. It wouldn't have taken Kellan long to walk here, but he would bet every single step of the way had been hell on his friend. It had taken him away from the place-and the woman-he truly wanted. Eric had to believe that or his plan would be for nothing.
He texted Tate, letting him know he'd made it to the bar. Tate's deep need to always know where the people he loved were was slightly stalkerish, but it had proven to be helpful on more than one occasion, so Eric vowed to stop ragging on him about it. Tate was serious about his family and their well-being, and he trusted that Eric could bring Kellan home.
God, Eric hoped he was right. Otherwise, he was fairly certain the next time they saw Kellan would be when he bought them out of the firm. Then he would be gone.
If that happened, he was pretty sure Kellan would spend the rest of his life alone. He would take a sub here and there. He might find some partners he could have a beer with from time to time, but Kellan would retreat into his hard shell and never emerge again. Eric didn't want that for his friend.
Eric pushed through the double doors and looked around the place. It wasn't much better on the inside. It certainly wasn't the sort of place Kellan normally frequented. An air of weariness lingered, from the dim lighting and shuttered windows to the dark, stained carpet. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but he finally found the man he sought.
Sighing, Eric studied his friend of more than ten years. Kellan sat at the bar, hunched over the beer in front of him as if the weight of the world pressed down on him. Kellan looked like hell for once-a tough feat for a good-looking SOB. Normally, he appeared perfectly pressed, but his suit coat was missing, as was his ever-present tie. His shirt was wrinkled, too. But it was the look in his eyes that really stopped Eric.
Kellan Kent looked absolutely fucking lost. He hadn't looked this bad since right after his divorce. Eric winced.
Somehow, he had to make Kell see that Belle wouldn't hurt him the way Lila had. Something he said had to reach the stubborn ass. It had to be brilliant, too. Emotionally intelligent. Shit.
"You fucked up," was what actually came out of his mouth.
So much for emotionally intelligent. He slid onto the stool beside him, figuring he'd better try again. Sometimes he hated being the reasonable one. He wasn't always good at it. He used to be the jock. Football players weren't known for their dazzling communication skills.
"I know. You don't have to tell me that." Kellan grimaced and resumed staring glumly into his beer. "How did you find me?"