I’ve met Grace on occasion when she’s flown into Melbourne, returning from her modelling assignments. Her visits are rare yet she always takes the time to send us care packages filled with makeup and clothes from photoshoots. She’s spirited, fun, and my kind of girl.
She’s also Casey’s kind of girl. I know that cocky charmer’s type. He likes them feisty, and his head always turns for a second look whenever a redhead passes him. Having her here will fit well with my matchmaking plans. Putting Grace in his line of sight will be a challenge impossible for him to ignore.
“Where is she right now?” I ask Henry.
“Melbourne.”
Just an hour’s flight away. “Set it up,” I tell him, steepling my fingers together.
He tugs his phone from his pocket, dials Grace, and leaves the room as he speaks.
Evie, unusually quiet since my arrival in the room, begins to heave in silence. Her brow is lined with a light sheen of sweat. The glare I send her way is edged with anxiety. “Stop it, Sandwich. There will be no heaving, no sweating, and definitely no puking today. Vomit on the inside, like a winner.”
Evie swallows a few times before her eyes goes wide. I know that look. She’s about to gush like an overturned fire hydrant.
I point to the door. “Go.”
“Sorry,” she gasps. With a hand flying to her mouth, Evie stands and flees the room.
My hard stare turns on Quinn.
“What can I do?” she asks.
I check my watch. It’s eleven a.m. “Arrange flights for Grace. We need her here yesterday.”
She nods, stands, and leaves the room to get the iPad she works from.
“Oh, and Quinn?”
She turns at the doorway.
“Find out where Casey is too, will you?” There’s no supressing the grin. “He can pick her up from the airport.”
Quinn cocks her head. “What’s so amusing?”
“Nothing.” I wipe the expression from my face. “Stop wasting time, asshead, and do what I asked.”
“And what will you be doing? Spending another inordinately excessive amount of time in the bathroom with Jake?”
“You can shove your big words where the sun don’t shine, Quinn, because I’ll be right here taking care of business. I have to consult with the stylist now that Frog is out and Grace is in. Her security also needs to be arranged…” because Grace is a big deal “…along with an extra rehearsal for this afternoon. The event organisers need to be contacted so we can add her to the list. Then there’s the—”
Quinn waves a hand cutting me off. “Okay, okay.” She begins to walk away, saying over her shoulder, “I get it. Now that you’ve done Jake, you have other shit to do.”
“Quinn,” I snap.
She stops and turns around.
“What I do with Jake is none of your business. Or anyone else’s for that matter.”
Quinn strolls back to the study and leans against the doorframe folding her arms. “Oh? Like you made me and Travis your business?”
“This is different. There’s history there that you have no idea about.”
With a shrug, she pushes off from the side of the door and says, “Well … maybe it’s time you shared that history with the rest of us,” before leaving.
I sit back in my chair with a huff, head tilted to the ceiling, as I close my eyes for a brief moment. The time for sharing has long passed.
Hasn’t it?
“I see your minions have scattered.”
I open my eyes. Jared stands in front of the desk, a beer in one hand and a champagne cocktail in the other. I know why he’s here, and I also know it’s best to just get it over with rather than brush him off the way I want to.
Like ripping off a Band-Aid, Mac. The sting will be sharp and it’ll throb for a little while after, but then the pain will eventually go away.
“It’s a little early for drinking, isn’t it?” I ask, which is a ridiculous question because if there’s ever a time for alcohol …
Jared snorts. “Tell me you didn’t just ask me that,” he says, extending the crystal flute toward me. The glasses were a housewarming gift from our parents. They were very astute with their present, no doubt foreseeing many occasions that would be cause for future celebration.
I take the champagne while he takes a seat opposite me. “I didn’t just ask you that.”
“Good,” he replies as I bring the glass to my lips. “Because I figured you’d need the drink after having an epic bout of sex in my downstairs bathroom.”
Fizzy alcohol sprays from my mouth. It showers the desk and my rumpled blouse. I set my flute on the desk and grab for a tissue to dab at the mess. “Jake and I were merely taking some time to resolve an issue.”
His brows soar sky high. “Well, clearly you resolved the shit out of it.”
There’s only one thing I can do and that’s to roll with it, so I give my brother a cool stare. “I’m a Valentine. I do what it takes to get the job done.”
Laughter explodes from my brother. Loud and infectious, it rings out across the room. My lips twitch, and I can’t help the responding chuckle.
When his amusement dies down, he shakes his head and looks at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I should’ve known there was no embarrassing you with that statement. You’re tough as nails, Mac.” Jared looks at me with a mixture of pride and admiration. “Nobody pulls one over on you.”
“Like you were just trying to do now? What was your plan? Blackmail me into forgiving you?”
“Blackmail?”
“You know what Jake and I did. What were you going to do, use it as leverage?”
Jared sets his beer on the desk and lets out a breath. “What, like running to Mum and Dad?”
He’s done it before. “It’s not beneath you.”
Jared shrugs. “Like you said, we’re Valentines. We do what it takes to get the job done.”
“Touché,” I reply over the rim of my glass. “But I think we’re a little old now to go running to our parents and tittle-tattle.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll ever be too old for that.” Jared picks his beer up with a wry grin and takes a sip. Then he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, staring at the bottle as though it holds all the answers to the universe. “You’re my sister, Mackenzie. And I love you. I can’t have you angry with me anymore.”
I nod, rubbing my lips together. “Well, you’re my brother, Jared, and I love you too. The truth is I’m not angry. Not anymore.”
Jared exhales. It’s a deep sound of relief. When he looks up, his eyes are sad and heavy with guilt, and I realise what’s going through his head. It’s not just the betrayal. It’s the car accident. He was the driver and blames himself for my miscarriage. “I’m still hurt over what you all did, but the car accident was exactly that,” I tell him. “An accident. Maybe you should try forgiving yourself.”
“I’m not sure I can. The truth is…” he begins and pauses, swiping a hand across his jaw “…the truth is that …”
I say what he can’t say himself. “You and Evie are having a baby.”
His eyes search mine. “You know.”
“Of course.” My heart gives a painful thump, but I force my lips to curve. “I’m a Valentine, remember? It’s my job to know everything.”