Page 46 of Good Girl's Bad Lessons

Raw pain clawed its way down her throat and squeezed her heart until it skipped a beat. She clapped her hand to her mouth to keep from saying anything she’d regret later. After all, they’d done it. He’d done it.

Finally, she wiped the tears with the back of her hand and sniffed. Pull yourself together, Emma. He could give himself to someone if he wanted to, her gut told her so. It’s just not me. “I’ve spent this entire month trying to change into someone else to win Simon back. I can’t change again for another man.” He was right…they were different. She took a long breath, gave him a glance that lingered into a gaze, before gathering her strength to say, “Goodbye, Nico.”

…

A week later…

Nico grabbed a bottle of water, then shut the refrigerator door a bit more harshly than necessary. He’d taken the day off to go to Zaine’s wedding, and staying home had driven him nuts. Which had been why he’d gone for a run, and now he needed a quick shower and shave. As best man, he couldn’t be late.

He took off his tennis shoes and socks. The previous night, he’d thrown Zaine a bachelor party. His brother Marco had flown in for the wedding. He’d had a hard time pretending to have fun in front of the most important people in his life. Well, all but one.

An invisible knife pierced through his heart. He’d let her go.

What else could he have done? Pretended he deserved her and then strung her along until they both realized it’d been a mistake? He’d break her heart. Her sweet, generous heart.

Sighing, he began shaving. Each time the blade cut the hair from his chin and cheeks, his fingers trembled. Nico took a deep breath and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d been through hell the past week. He’d worked, exercised, and barely slept. For two nights he’d gone to a hotel room, telling himself it’d been because it was closer to work for early meetings. Deep down, the idea of spending time in his house scared him.

After she’d been there, his place wasn’t the same. He looked at the bathroom and remembered her bathing in it, or to his bed and how she’d taken charge that last time they’d screwed. Made love.

I’m pathetic.

The doorbell rang, and he wiped the shaving cream off his face then jetted out of his bedroom. Who could it be? He’d talked to Marco earlier on the phone. In fact, he and his brother were closer than ever. He told him about Desmorais and his findings, and Marco had hugged him, assuring him he couldn’t care less about them not sharing the same father.

He opened the door to find Angele Desmorais at his doorstep. Wearing a beige linen outfit of sleeved shirt and pants, he couldn’t be more out of place. What was he doing there?

Desmorais leaned forward. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Come in.”

Desmorais entered his place, in a quiet appraisal of his foyer, then his spacious living area. “Nice house.”

“I doubt you came over to talk about interior design,” Nico said, gesturing for him to sit. Desmorais did not, and neither did Nico.

A strange emotion engulfed him, and he stood in the middle of his living area, staring at the man who’d changed his life, in a sense. After all, he no longer wanted to play the game to persuade him to buy the house.

“You.” Desmorais glanced at the hardwood floor, then continued. “The last time we met was a bit hectic, and I’ve been thinking… I didn’t know your father, Calogero, had been a jerk to you. I mean, I was too busy staying away, but if I had known he’d been such a bastard, I’d have searched for you.”

Nico popped his knuckles. He’d come all the way from Mauritius just to have this talk? His gut clenched. What did Desmorais want from him? “It’s a little late.”

Desmorais gave him a slow nod, his eyes flickering with hope. “Perhaps too late for a perfect relationship, one where we, father and son, have known each other since birth. You’re right.”

Nico crossed his arms over his chest. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I’d like to have an imperfect relationship with you. Where I screwed up, and you give me a chance for a new beginning. I’ll come to this side of the world more often. We go out to eat, play golf, whatever you want to do. I’d like for you to meet your half-sister one day…when you’re ready. She doesn’t know about you, but I’m sure Eloise will welcome you into our little family.”

Nico’s heart raced, but a part of him clung to the skepticism he’d known for so long. “Why would you go to all this trouble?”

“Because you’re my son, and I’ve wasted too much time already.” Desmorais reached for his pocket and produced a crystal. Not just any crystal—the blue one he’d given to his mother as a gift.

He offered it to Nico, who took it in his hand. The crystal sparkled, and gratitude welled up inside him. Maybe the goal to sell the house in Mauritius had a purpose much different than he’d intended. It hadn’t brought his mother back, or his childhood, but his father—and a new chance at their relationship. “How did you get this?”

“I broke my word and visited your mother once in Italy. She showed me a picture of you and gave me that crystal—said you’d picked it out for her, and wanted me to have something from you.”

Nico caressed the quartz. Emma’s words about how he hid from meaningful relationships to keep from getting hurt rang in his ears, and his heart tattooed against his rib cage. “I guess we can give an imperfect relationship a go.”

Desmorais walked up to him and gave him a hug. Nico tensed at first, but then allowed himself to relax, and tapped Desmorais’s back. If Desmorais wanted a real, heartfelt hug, he needed to give Nico more time. This, though, was a step in the right direction.

Desmorais smiled. “Thank you. I won’t take you for granted. Where’s Emma?” he asked, looking around as if she’d pop out of a room.

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