Page 75 of The Billionaire's Beauty

“Nope,” I say.

“Because there’s a lot of fish in the sea out west,” Ryker says. “Maybe she wants to dip her toe in the waters.”

I don’t know why the suggestion causes a haze of bloodlust to settle over my vision. I keep telling myself—and her—that I want her to find the kind of guy she deserves. A fresh new guy with a heart where a heart should be. But the idea of Bellamy finding someone new out there makes me want to pick up this entire drink cart and smash it against the nearest wall.

And I know what my brothers are doing. They’re trying to help me in their own clumsy way. I just don’t plan to open the lid on my twisted thoughts for their input.

“What she”—Christ; I can’t even force myself to say her name—“does or doesn’t do is not my business.”

“Surprised to hear you say that,” Damon says. “She’s good for you. We can almost tolerate you when she’s around. We weren’t wild about you dating a subordinate, but I was beginning to think you’d marry her.”

His use of the M-word does something to me, jars something in my brain and makes that dark emotion surge to the top. So much for holding the reins to my temper. I turn to face my brothers, my mouth working fine again.

“Marry her? What you mean, marry her? Why would I do that? Were you not paying attention when Mom and Dad ruined each other when they split up? You think that taught any of us anything about how marriage works?”

“No, but I’ve got a pretty good idea how it doesn’t work,” Ryker says ruefully. “All the stuff they did? I’m not doing that.”

“Yeah, well, you do whatever you want to do,” I tell him. “I’m not planning to ruin Bellamy. She deserves someone better than me. And I sure don’t plan on watching her walk out on me one day.”

“What, like Mom walked out?” Damon says.

“Yeah, genius, exactly like that,” I roar. “Why does this have to be said? You were there. You experienced the exact same things I did. I still have nightmares about being alone in the stupid west wing—”

“Sorry about the nightmares, but Bellamy’s not Mom,” Ryker says. “Mom was never happy. Not that I recall, anyway.”

“Damn straight. Bellamy seemed pretty happy to me before she left,” Damon adds. “And she’s already spent a year with you. Good, bad and ugly. And let’s face it—you’ve got a lot of ugly. Seems like she knew what she was getting into. And she still got into it anyway.” He shrugs. “Call me crazy, but I thought that was love.”

“First of all, love isn’t a thing,” I say, furious. “Second, do you think Mom and Dad never thought they loved each other? Look how they turned out. Hating each other’s guts. Mom walking out. Bitter custody battle.”

“Maybe,” Ryker says, shrugging. “But they fought the good fight. They tried to make it work. Which is more than we can say for you, if you just let Bellamy walk out of your life without trying to keep her around. If that’s what you did, she does deserve someone better than you, doesn’t she?”

I want to give him a heartfelt fuck you, but I can’t quite work up the outrage. Not in the face of logic like that.

Bellamy told me that she’s in love with me. She told me that she’s willing to try the long-distance thing or to transfer to NYU next semester. And what did I do? Did I take her up on either of those wonderful offers? Did I collapse in gratitude?

Or did I duck inside my shell and play dead like a terrified turtle?

Hell, it was worse than that.

I told her I’d be fine. Fine. What a joke. I am a joke.

“Why would she want me?” I ask my brothers, dead serious even though I feel a sudden swell of hope. “A woman like that? She could have anyone.”

“That’s none of your business,” Damon tells me. “She just does. Why don’t you let her? You know she’s the only thing that ever made you a tolerable human being.”

I wince. “Because I know what it did to me when Mom walked out. I saw what it did to Dad. I’m not doing that again.”

Ryker barks out a laugh. “You want some ironclad guarantee that your life is going to be smooth sailing? Fuck you. No one gets a guarantee. You go hide in the corner if you want to, big man. I’ll be on the playing field.”

Swear to God, something chimes in my brain.

You’ll be looking for a way back onto the playing field. So get your shit together, Griffin.

I blink at my brothers, stunned back into my right mind.

“Looks like he’s starting to get it,” Ryker tells Damon, not bothering to hide his amusement at my expense.

“Yeah, but I’m glad we got involved,” Damon says grimly. “With this fool? He’ll screw things up every chance he gets if we don’t help him.”

I manage a weak laugh as my mind shifts to the problem of getting Bellamy back after the way I shot myself in the foot by letting her go without a fight.

I can’t be mad at Damon’s assessment. He’s not wrong.

But I’m going to fix this or die trying.

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