Perfect Partners(47)
Author: Carly Phillips

Griff left the room without a word. Now his housekeeper was offering unsolicited advice. What next?

Ryan caught up with him on the driveway. “Excuse me for stating the obvious, but you look like hell.”

“Thanks, Ryan. It’s always a pleasure. How’d you get here so fast?”

He patted his jacket pocket. “Cellular. Squirt’s been tough?”

“Life’s been tougher.”

“And I’m sorry for my part in it.”

Griff shrugged.

Ryan leaned against the car and squinted against the bright rays of the sun. “You’re one pathetic bastard, you know that?”

“Yeah. But you know what they say. It takes one to know one.”

“True.” He straightened, leaning toward Griff. “What’s that on your shirt?”

“Milk,” Griff answered without glancing down. The wet spots had already seeped through to his skin. He’d have to change before the odor of dried milk became offensive.

Ryan nodded. “What do you think Deidre would do if she saw you looking like this?”

“I think she’d take the first cab—make that limo—back to her ritzy apartment and shower, just in case the smell interfered with her perfume.” Despite himself, Griff couldn’t suppress a grin and a full-blown laugh.

“I guess it’s a good thing she dumped you.”

For the first time, Griff agreed. “True.”

“So I guess the next woman’s got to love kids.”

His laughter suffered a sudden death. “Cut the pop psychology.” Telling Ryan about his breakup with Chelsie had been a mistake. After a few beers, Griff had let Ryan pump him for information, forgetting that he’d regret his revelations the next day.

“What the hell is it with you? The first one doesn’t like kids and the second one loves ’em. Neither can win.”

“Don’t compare Chelsie to Deidre,” Griff said, taking offense at how his friend had lumped Chelsie with the most selfish woman he’d met. Next to his mother, of course.

Ryan shrugged. “Why the hell not? You have.” Ryan started towards the house, stopping to add, “I’m going to visit with my favorite squirt. I’ll see you when you’re feeling human again.”

“Watch her temper. It’s lethal.”

“Takes after her uncle,” he called over his shoulder.

Griff hefted himself up onto the hood of his car. The weather was rapidly changing. Fall would turn to winter. Griff would go back to being a solo practitioner. Cold and lonely. He wondered if he was referring to the season or to himself.

A light breeze blew cold air through his cotton shirt. His skin felt chilled, especially where the milk had settled. A few months ago, he would have been riding in his convertible, top down and probably heading to work, even on Sunday. He’d have been wearing at least a sport jacket, if not a suit and tie. One thing for sure, milk stains wouldn’t be anywhere near his designer clothing.

When had he stopped missing his old lifestyle? The days of living for money and the luxuries it brought no longer appealed to him, and he knew for certain it wouldn’t have appealed to Chelsie. Time with her had taught him that she was like her sister. Neither valued things above people. Shannon had left her parents’ wealthy lifestyle behind to marry his brother.

Chelsie, too, had chosen her own way, just as he had. After his brother’s death, Griff had automatically assumed the role of guardian without thought to how his life would change. But it had.

Some changes he’d always regret The absence of his brother and sister-in-law, for one. Though the pain hadn’t subsided completely, he was learning to live with the loss. Hopefully, as he dealt with his grief, he would teach Alix how to live with hers.

Just as Chelsie had done. He couldn’t fault her for attempting to bridge the gap with her parents. She had little enough family in her life.

He pressed a hand to his temple and thought of their common bond. Of Alix. Griff had lost his brother, but gained a daughter. He really didn’t consider Alix anything less. How could he regret the little girl who had changed his life? She made him more human. She made him have fun. She made him capable of love.

Alix was a part of him. And so was Chelsie.

Griff could no longer remember the man he was before Alix entered his life on a permanent basis. Chelsie had known that other man only by reputation—the one who lived for his work, who didn’t care much about anyone or anything other than having fun and making money.

She’d been a part of his transformation. They’d practically raised the little girl together these last few months. If his own life and feelings were forever intertwined with his niece, why did he expect Chelsie to feel different?

She said she loved Alix, and not just as the little girl’s aunt. She also said she loved him. How could she separate the two? Love one and not the other? The answer was simple. She couldn’t.

Chelsie had accused him of running scared. That much had been true. He had been afraid she’d abandon him. Then, when she pledged her love and promised to stay, he questioned the depth of her feelings. If he continued to lump her in the category of Deidre and his mother, he would always have an excuse to push her away. The old Griff would have done that. The man Alix had taught how to open his heart would not.

So which Griffin Stuart would control his future? The answer was just a start. He had joined the list of men in Chelsie’s life to shatter her trust and let her down. Would she believe anything he had to say?

Even if she accepted his words, after watching the scene with her ex-husband, Griff had his doubts about whether she’d put the past behind her completely. She still had one more hurdle to face, though he doubted she was aware of it yet. Considering he had done all the taking so far—her help with Alix, the partnership and the clients she brought in—he could offer this one thing in return. More than an apology was necessary to make Chelsie believe in him. He only hoped he didn’t destroy their future in the process.

* * *

Heat and humidity hit her as she exited the West Palm Beach airport. Chelsie turned her face toward the sun, grabbing a minute’s reprieve before climbing into her rental car and heading for her parents’ home. She began her drive with fists clenched tight around the steering wheel, her tension mounting with each passing mile.

They expected her arrival, but she had no idea what to expect from them. Having gone most of her childhood without strong support on the home front, she knew she didn’t need anything from them in order to survive. But her self-imposed exile, combined with her sister’s death, had taken its toll. She might not need anything, but she wanted more than she’d received so far.