Page 46 of Beautiful Mess

Sitting up and pressing my back to the headboard, my throat tightens as I shake my head and say, “No, actually, I donotknow that, Grace. My soncheatedon you? When the hell was this?”

Looking as puzzled as I feel, Grace sits up too. “Back in college,” she offers slowly. “What do you mean, you didn’t know?”

“I mean, Cole never told me that was why y’all broke up.” My heart hammers as I take in this new information. “He barely ever told me anything straight up.”

“But that night…” She watches me for a moment like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle, folding her arms over her chest. “When you drove me home that night and I told you that your son was an asshole, you said you knew, and that he was young and stupid.”

Then it hits me. The way she was drinking alone at the bar, the anger in her tone when she spoke about Cole, even the way she tried to kiss me. “Like father, like son.” The words she spit at me before storming into her house smack me in the face, and suddenly, they make sense.

“You two fought all the time,” I say. “I thought that was what you were upset about. Grace, you have to believe me when I say I hadnoidea. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t have blamed it on being young and dumb. I’d like to think I raised him better than that. I’m so sorry that you thought I knew this whole time and was so flippant about it.”

She’s quiet for a moment, seemingly trying to process everything like I am. Everything about the night makes so much more sense now, and I feel like an idiot for not knowing. For not asking more. How different would the last fourteen years have been if I knew? Finally, she gives me a meek smile and says, “I believe you, but can we drop this? The last thing I want to be talking about after having sex with you is your son and the way he hurt me.”

The last part tugs at my heart, and even though I want to, I don’t press. “Sure.” Lying down again, I open my arm for her. “C’mere.”

We talk for a little while longer, but nothing nearly as deep as we were, before she drifts off to sleep with her head on my chest and her hand hugging my waist. I wish I could say that I’m quick to pass out too, but I’m not. My mind races for the next hour or so before I’m finally able to turn it off enough to get some rest.

I hate that I didn’t know.

I hate that my son hurt her.

She needed somebody to be there for her that night, and I was too stupid to see that.

Never again.

Twenty-One

Grace

“What color are you getting?” Gemma glances over at me as she stands in front of the wall of nail polish at Cutesie Nails.

“This hot pink color. It’s called”—turning the bottle over, I check the name on the bottom—“Hi, Barbie. What about you?”

It’s not my normal day to get my nails done, but Gemma invited me to get pedicures with her. She hasn’t had one since before Rosie was born, and I wasn’t going to pass up a chance to hang out with my sister. Especially with our kids being so close in age and in sports together, Gemma and I see each other at least a few times a week, but it’s rare that we get to spend time together without the kids around.

“There’re too many options,” Gemma murmurs, blowing out a breath before finally grabbing a pretty mauve shade. “I think I’ll do this one.”

Once we get seated and dip our feet in the soaking tub, I pull out my phone, checking to see if there’re any notifications waiting for me.

There aren’t.

Ugh. I’m being silly. It’s barely been a few hours since I left Conway’s place; there’s no reason he’d be texting me already. Plus, I know he’ll be busy most of the day helping one of his friends install a fence at his new house. I need to relax, but my head is a jumbled mess this morning, not sure how to feel about last night. Or the fact that I slept over at his house. There’s also an impossible-to-ignore ache between my legs that does nothing but remind me how good the sex was last night.

And this morning.

As if my sister has psychic abilities, she glances over at me as our nail techs sit down in front of us and says, “So, tell me about your datelast night.”

Arching my eyebrow, I ask, “Is that the real reason you invited me here?”

“Not theonlyreason,” she replies innocently, but the hint of a smirk tugging on her lip gives her away. “But I won’t lie and say I wasn’t a little excited to get the dirty deets from you before Georgia and Charley were able to.”

Laughter bubbles out of me at her honesty. “Yeah, because I frequently fill you in last,” I mutter, sarcasm curling around my words. Out of all my siblings, I’ve always been the closest with Gemma. Even though people always assume it would be Graham since we’re twins, but he and I couldn’t be more different. I love my brother, but about the only thing we’ve ever had in common is the color of our eyes and the fact that we shared a womb.

Gemma shrugs. “I just don’t want to miss anything now.”

My gaze softens as I take in my sister. “Why would you miss anything?”

There’s a splash of vulnerability swimming in her big, round, chocolate brown eyes, and it’s impossible to miss the pink to her cheeks as she looks down at her lap before heaving a sigh and meeting my gaze again. “I don’t know,” she admits softly. “It’s just being the only one of the four of us with a newborn, I worry I’ll unintentionally miss things or not be there for one of you when you need us because I’m nursing Rosie, or changing Rosie, or napping with Rosie.”

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