His sister and Pete had gotten together two years ago after Hillary had graduated from UNC–Chapel Hill, Pete’s alma mater. They lived together in a restored Victorian house in Historic Oakwood, and it was just a matter of time until Pete, who had always been like a brother to Erik, truly was his brother by marriage.
He was happy for Hillary. Really and truly happy for her because no one had waited longer or shown more faithfulness of heart than his sister. She was rare among women, and therefore the only woman he allowed to get close to him in any way, shape, or form.
“Can’t do it, Erik. Cisco’s hostin’ the biggest tech conference of the year in two weeks. Pete’s up every night until after two gettin’ his presentation perfect. He’s not goin’ anywhere.”
“So you go.”
“First of all, I have New Year’s plans.”
And she knew very well that Erik did not.
“Second of all, I want to be here to support Pete. Get him dinner, be around while he’s workin’ so hard.”
Erik rolled his eyes.
“Not to mention,” she continued, giving him a look, “I know, literally, nothin’ about architecture and structure damage and all of that sort of stuff. I’d be less than useless.” She slumped in her seat. “Come on. You know you have to be the one to go.”
He clenched his jaw. He hadn’t been back to that fucking house in years. Not since the Thanksgiving when she didn’t show.
It still hurt. It still fucking hurt, all these years later.
He looked up at Hillary and growled, “Hire someone and charge it to Daddy.”
With his eyes locked with his sister’s, he watched hers soften to grief, and she took a halted breath before whispering, “They call you the Ice Man, Erik.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ask me if I give a shit.”
“Even if you don’t, I do,” she said softly. “I want you to be happy.”
“You’re not the happiness police, Hills,” he said, twisting his chair away from her a little.
“You have to deal with this,” she insisted. “Purge your demons. Say good-bye. Move on. It’s been long enough now.”
For years Hillary had been saying the same thing: move on. As if moving on from the love of your life, who suddenly and without explanation banished you, then disappeared off the face of the earth, was possible.
It’s not that he actually thought about Laire very often. He didn’t. He didn’t allow it. But she was the truest and realest thing he’d ever known, or so he’d stupidly thought. He’d loved her harder and better than anyone who’d ever come before. And he didn’t intend to ever put himself through that misery again as long as he lived. If he didn’t love anyone, then no one could hurt him as Laire had.
It had become a challenge of sorts among the most charming, beautiful, successful women of North Carolina: to be the one who finally melted Erik Rexford’s frosty heart. But Erik knew something they didn’t—his heart was beyond touching, beyond warming, beyond caring. His heart had been crushed into a million pieces, then shoved back into his hands. It wasn’t just frozen. It has been broken first. And now it was virtually untouchable.
So they could call him the Ice Man as much as they liked.
It was perfect and he welcomed it.
At least any woman who went out with him knew exactly what to expect.
Not that he dated very often, if you could even call it that. When he needed a date, he had a slew of eager admirers ready to stand up beside him. And there was always Van.
Vanessa Osborn had grown only more beautiful in the years since Laire had shattered his dreams, and she was perpetually in demand. But when she was single, between boyfriends or fiancés or affairs, she was Erik’s preferred date to events and dinners, merely because he’d known her for so long. There was an easiness he found in Van’s company that owed itself to history and childhood. Maybe he still felt some small bit of warmth toward her since they’d been friends for so long. She was a good companion, funny and interesting. She knew how to drag out a small smile from Erik when no one else could.
And sometimes—sometimes when he was with her and felt an unexpected surge of longing for a home and family of his own—he wondered if she would eventually wear him down . . . and if he and Van would end up together in some affectionate, passionless arrangement. He knew that she still cared for him—that she would drop everything in an instant for the chance to be with him. He fought against the loneliness and weakness that might lead him down such a path because he knew in his heart that he’d ultimately destroy Van’s chance at happiness, the way Laire had destroyed his.