The Cornerstone (30 page)

I did the only thing I could: I locked it all down. I saw every sunrise and sunset from the solitude of my office, and I worked until all the words and numbers blurred together. My mind was weight-weary, and my body was drawn too taut to recognize anything more than the deepest ends of hunger, exhaustion, pain. There was a beauty in the excess of it all: our restoration projects were selling well above asking price, my investment properties were turning wild profits, and our services were in greater demand than ever before.

But if I wasn’t working, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wore through three pairs of running shoes and doubled up on my morning spin classes, and when I couldn’t push my body any further, I ended up at the Public Garden or the Prudential Center, watching people as they went about their lives.

I couldn’t bear to be alone. Not any more than I already was.

Sometimes I wondered whether I was going to wake up on my fiftieth birthday and realize the good men were taken, my childbearing days had passed, and the years I devoted to raising my siblings were a shiny memory of a time when I was more than the meddling aunt. I was going to wake up hollow and alone because I’d given everything, and while I was busy giving, there was no one in my life to replenish
me
.

But when September and then October came and went with no sign of Will, I knew I was already there.

*

It took Sam
almost four months to come back to us.

He went to Tiel first, of course. He went to her and before I could blink, they were moving in together.

Another blink and they were engaged.

“Tiel and I are getting married,” he announced at the tail end of the Monday morning status meeting.

He smiled to himself while he ran his hand over his tie and fished his phone from his breast pocket. He tapped the screen, and an image of him and Tiel appeared. Their faces were close together, happy and smiling like people who hadn’t put each other through multiple layers of agony. Her hand was positioned between them, and on her finger sat a large peachy-pink diamond ring.

Everyone crowded around Sam, offering handshakes and hugs, congratulations and quips about Tiel making an honest man out of him. A few beats passed before I realized I was still seated, watching while Andy and my brothers lavished him in well wishes.

Sam looked up and met my eyes across the table, his frown communicating exactly how much it hurt him that I wasn’t in line to share his joy. “Shannon?”

For as far as we might have drifted, he still wanted my approval. “Congratulations!” I said, rounding the table to envelop him in a squeeze. “Have you set a date yet?”

Sam patted my shoulder with a chuckle. “No, we didn’t get that far yesterday,” he said.

“Well, there’s a ton to plan,” I said, breaking away from the group. Sam’s smile fell and he gazed at me, confused.

It wasn’t the right response, that much I knew, but it was the best I could do. Everything was a situation to manage, a problem to solve, and I kicked the shit out of every issue that crossed our path. I didn’t know any other way to show my love.

“We should get dinner soon, the three of us, and start thinking about dates, venues, themes,” I said, edging out of the attic conference room and toward the stairs. “So much to do. Colors. Flowers. Everything. Let me know what works for you two, and we’ll get together.”

I felt like a brittle piece of antique glass that was bound to crack under the lightest pressure as I returned to my office and settled behind my desk. Dragging a breath into my lungs, I dropped my head into my hands just as my door banged shut.

“Is there something you wish to share with me?” Sam asked.

“No,” I said, running my hands over my face. “A lot on my mind today. A lot of meetings. You know how it is. Mondays are always crazy.”

Sam crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, and he nodded.

“And I’m checking out two more properties this afternoon. A pair of brownstones that were in the process of being remodeled but the developer ran out of cash so they’ve been vacant for a few years. Could be interesting.”

He nodded again, eyeing me with cool exasperation. “If I wanted your schedule, I could have asked Tom. Why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what’s going on.”

I stared at my dark lilac skirt and brushed some dust off the hem. “Nothing is going on. I’m thrilled for you, truly, and will do anything to help with planning the wedding.”

“Bullshit,” he said, and my head snapped up at his tone. “That’s bullshit. You should have seen your face up there, Shan. You were devastated, and I want to know why.”

An image of that ring appeared in my mind, and I knew without asking that it was one of a kind, just like Tiel Desai. It was different in an unexpectedly lovely way, and he didn’t need my help picking out rings or deciding how and when to propose. He didn’t need me for anything. Not anymore.

“Not devastated,” I said. “Just surprised. It seems like you just moved in together, and…and I can’t wait to help with the planning. You’re thinking summer, right? Summer weddings are wonderful, though the best spots book up quickly. What about The Cliff House in Ogunquit? Or were you thinking somewhere in town? Oooh, what about The Lenox? There’s always The Mandarin, I know you like The Mandarin. Or maybe Crane Estate if you wanted something rural. Or Misselwood or Nantasket if you wanted the beach. Harrington Farm is gorgeous in the fall, so that’s an option, too.”

“Shannon.” He leaned forward and flattened his hands on my desk. “Stop it. Do not handle me. Do not spin this conversation. If you have a problem with me or Tiel, or me marrying Tiel, you need to get it out or get over it right now.”

“That’s not it. Not at all. I know it’s selfish, and I’m sorry, but…I wish you’d called me,” I said. “I wish you’d told me as soon as it happened. I wish you’d asked me to go ring shopping with you.”

Sam offered an impatient smile and eased back. “I didn’t exactly plan it out. I didn’t intentionally exclude you. And yesterday, well.” Sam laughed. “We got a little carried away.”

He was stingy with the details these days, and intensely protective of his relationship with Tiel. It was either respect the boundary lines or find myself locked out entirely. “I’m happy for you and Tiel. Really. Now when can we get together to celebrate? I’ll bring the champagne.”

“Soon, but…” he started, sighing, “I love you. You know that. But that doesn’t mean you can adopt our wedding as your new pet project. You hijacked Matt and Lauren’s wedding, but they were too busy to care. We want to do this our own way. Tiel will reach out to you, I can guarantee that, but she’ll do it on her time. She adores you, and I really appreciate how you’ve given her as much time as she needed to warm up to you, and everyone else. But that doesn’t mean you can smother her now.”

“I wasn’t trying to hijack anything. It’s your day, and I just wanted to help with—”

“Give Tiel some space. If she wants your opinion on these things, she’ll ask. Until then, I need you to take an enormous step back.”

Clasping my hands together to prevent my nails from sinking into my palms, I nodded. “Of course, Sam. Whatever you need. If there’s anything at all that I can do for either of you, just let me know.”

NOW

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”

—William Shakespeare,
A Midsummer Night’s Dream

WILL

T
here were rules
to every engagement, and each theater served up its own set of variables. Finding myself face-to-face with Shannon’s new man—if you could call this shitsnack that—was no different.

I was staring down the Lord of the House of Douche, and if I didn’t know Shannon would give me a lifetime worth of shit for it, I would have killed him by now. He introduced himself as Gerard after she stared at me in open-mouthed shock for two minutes, and the longer I watched him, the more convinced I was that she’d gone in search of the biggest prick in town.

He’d fucked her, that was plain as day, and he was sitting there, his legs crossed and his hands folded over his pinstriped fucking trousers, as if he owned the joint.

As if he owned
her
.

If there was one thing I knew with certainty it was that no one owned Shannon. She owned herself and anyone who suggested otherwise was usually invited to go fuck himself. If there was anyone who could lay claim to Shannon it was me, and even that stood on shaky ground at this point. I knew showing up at her apartment was a dicey move after all this time and everything that had happened, but this tactic never failed me, and…I needed her.

The Lord of the Douches shifted in his seat, then scratched his ear, looked around, and scratched his ear again. It was a glowing invitation to interrogate this bitch while Shannon took her sweet ass time hiding in the kitchen.

“Gerard,” I said, “you a Red Sox fan?”

He offered an indifferent shrug that told me he intended to blow off every question I asked. He didn’t give a shit who I was or what I was doing here, and he probably sensed I wanted to get rid of him. “Yankees. New Yorker.”

“Everyone has a cross to bear,” I said. “Riley hasn’t blacklisted you? Impressive. He must be going soft in his old age.”

Lord of the Douches squinted, confused. “Riley?”

He tugged at his ear again, and this guy needed to get his tells under control. Who the fuck was he? Any man who earned a spot in Shannon’s life was forced to share it with Patrick, Sam, Riley, and Matt. Not to mention Nick and Tom. You got the slice she served up, and you were fucking thankful for the offering. It wasn’t a lesson I came by easily, but it was one I knew as clear as my name and rank.

“The youngest one,” I said, and he continued squinting. “Shannon’s brother? Goes to every home game. The kid wants to get married on home plate, name his first born Big Papi, and have his ashes spread over the outfield when he dies.”

I didn’t know any of this to be true, but I wasn’t burdening Gerard with those details. The only thing he needed to know was that his time with Shannon was over.

“I hadn’t heard that,” he said, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his knees. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Captain Will Halsted, United States Naval Special Warfare Command,” I said.

I didn’t pull the SEAL Team card often, but it was a small pleasure to watch Gerard’s reaction wash over him. How was it possible that this uptight sack of shit was in Shannon’s apartment? Unless he was here appraising the place, there was no way I could believe she’d willingly spend time with him. Sure, on the surface he was her type but there was far more than met the eye when it came to her.

He pressed a hand to his hip and retrieved a shiny iPhone from his pocket. “Apologies,” he said. “Call from the office.” He pointed to the den. “I’ll just…”

Lord of the Douches quick-stepped down the hallway, and I knew his “call from the office” would keep him busy.

Aside from the flaming asshole in pinstripes, Shannon’s apartment was exactly the way I remembered it. Furniture that only looked too fancy to be comfortable. Hardwood floors topped with intricately woven silk rugs. Built-in bookshelves on either side of the brick fireplace, filled with books, old photographs, and an assortment of geodes, none of which she wanted to discuss.

It was precisely Shannon.
Intentional
. Everything had a purpose, everything meant something.

The click of her heels against the floor announced her approach before she rounded the corner from the kitchen, but it didn’t prepare me for the impact of gazing at her again. The months, the distance, the resentment over the state of things between us…none of that changed the way my heart and head reacted to her. She was sexy as hell—that was nothing new—but that wasn’t my first thought this time. No, this time I wanted to drag her into my lap, wrap my arms around her, and let myself be
close
to her for a long, long time.

“Did you say you wanted wine?” Shannon asked. She stared at the empty chair, blinking. “Where’s Gerard?”

“I threw him out the window,” I said. “I had to kill him but I didn’t want to get blood on your rugs.”

“Jesus Christ, Will,” she hissed. She crossed her arms over her chest and I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t remember seeing anything that beautiful in months, and that wasn’t just because those months were filled with some of the toughest, most deadly missions I’d ever led. “That’s really fucking hilarious.”

“Anything to get you smiling,” I said.

She sent me a withering smirk, and I was pleased to see it fall into a frown when Gerard entered the room.

You can’t fool me, peanut.

“Shannon, thank you for an enjoyable evening. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to a client.” He glanced in my direction. “Captain, it was a pleasure, and…thank you for your service.”

I offered a tight salute as Gerard shrugged into his coat. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but observed with an emotion I can only describe as glee when Shannon showed him to the door without so much as a handshake.