And at this exact moment she was standing outside her studio staring at the locked front door.
Gia knew what she had to do. But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to hear that voice or ask him for anything. Unfortunately, she had a class starting in fifteen minutes and it was going to happen on the cold November sidewalk if she didn’t get into the studio.
She took a deep breath and dialed. Gia closed her eyes. “Please be Ellery. Please be Ellery,” she chanted.
“Pierce Law,” Ellery’s chipper voice rang out.
“Oh thank God,” Gia said in a rush. “Ellery, it’s Gia.”
“Hey, Gia! It’s so good to hear from you! How’s it going?” Ellery’s voice was unusually loud in her ear.
“Uh, it’s fine. I’m locked out of my studio and I can’t find my keys. I think Beckett said he hid a spare somewhere. Can you —”
“Gia?”
She inhaled sharply at the sound of his voice. Deep, smooth, with a warm liquid pull, like bourbon.
She closed her eyes. “Hi,” she said, going for brisk.
“Ellery said you had an emergency.”
Gia added Ellery to her growing list of people to kill.
“Is everything okay?” Beckett asked. “The kids?”
“Everyone’s fine. I just need you — I mean …” she was getting flustered now.
“You were saying you need me?”
Was that hope she heard in his voice?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. “I need you to tell me where the spare key for the studio is. Please,” she added hastily.
He was silent for a beat. “Sure. It’s around back. Just stay on the phone so I know you found it.”
“Uh …” She didn’t care for that idea.
“Are you walking around the building?”
Gia sprang into action and jogged around the side of the building toward the alley. “Yes, I’m almost to the alley.”
“So how are the kids?”
“You should know since you just had dinner with Aurora,” Gia grumbled.
“She said you were at the school with Evan?”
Gia hurried into the alley. “Uh, yeah. It was an art exhibit night for the middle school. They’d done some pottery stuff and I was afraid Aurora would go Tasmanian devil on the displays. I’m in the alley now.”
She thought she heard him bite back a sigh. “There’s a loose brick just above ground level under the first window by the door. Do you see it?”
She spotted it, wiggled it with her foot. “I got it.”
“It’s tucked in behind it —”
“Thank you. I’ve got to run,” Gia said, interrupting him.
“Gianna, wait. I wanted to apolo —”
“I’ve got to go. Thank you,” she said flatly before disconnecting the call and wondering how hard it would be to break a lease.
33
With less than a week to the wedding, Beckett opened his house to Carter’s bachelor party. Poker, hot sausage subs — a lame veggie sub for the groom — beer, cigars, and scotch. It was man heaven.
It was also step one of his plan to win Gia back. Beckett hoped Carter didn’t mind his party working a little double duty.
“This is quite the setup,” Carter said, snagging a chip out of the bowl on Beckett’s dining room table.
“Food’s in here, poker’s in the parlor,” Beckett said, dumping a stack of paper plates on the table. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Paul.”
Carter stopped mid-chew. “You invited Paul?” He swallowed hard.
“Yeah, and Evan.”
“Evan’s cool,” Carter said, still eyeing him.
“What, don’t you love Paul like the entire rest of the universe?” Beckett asked.
“I think he’s great,” Carter said blandly. I’m just surprised you don’t mind him. Seeing as how he’s your woman’s ex-husband and all.”
“My ex-woman’s ex-husband,” Beckett clarified.
“So you’re starting to come around to him?” Beckett could see his brother trying to work it out.
“Let’s just say keep your friends close —”
“And your enemies closer,” Carter finished. “Just what are you up to?”
“Just being neighborly,” Beckett shrugged. Step one was to figure out where everyone stood. Was Paul serious about getting back together with Gia? Was Gia now seriously considering it since Beckett opened his big, fat trap? And what did Evan think about the situation? It was time for some reconnaissance.
The front door opened, saving him from further interrogation.
Jax and Franklin strolled in.
The greetings were fast and easy. Beckett played host and doled out the first round of beverages. Franklin was another good source to tap, he decided, watching the man unload a tray of seafood bruschetta.
“Listen, Franklin, I was wondering if you had a minute,” Beckett began awkwardly. He’d been nothing short of rude to the man for six months and now that he needed something he was palling around. It was despicable and he wouldn’t blame Franklin for not wanting to hear him out.