The Virgin’s Guide to Misbehaving (Bluebonnet #4)(61)
Author: Jessica Clare

Grant gave Brenna another warning look. “Please, love, you’re not helping.”

“She is, actually,” Elise pointed out. “She’s showing you how wrong you are.”

“Zing!” Brenna called out merrily.

“The facts don’t lie,” Grant said. He picked up the piece of paper again. “This is on his official record.”

“I know, and I’m sure there’s a story behind it,” Elise said calmly. “And I’m sure that’s not the man he is today. You keep saying he was a bad man, but he treated me like a princess.” Her voice wobbled a little as despair threatened to overcome her control. “He always said he wasn’t good enough for me.”

“He’s not—” Grant began, and grew silent at the look Elise shot him.

“I don’t care about who he was back then,” she said calmly and got to her feet. “I care about who he is now. And who he is now is good, and kind, and used to being treated like shit by people like you and me.”

Grant’s jaw set mutinously but he said nothing.

“I’m sorry he didn’t trust me enough to share this with me earlier,” Elise said, gesturing at the paper. “Maybe if he had, this would have all blown over and you wouldn’t have cared that I was in love with him.”

“He’s after your trust fund,” Grant began again.

“That’s funny,” Elise snapped. “No one’s ever mentioned the trust fund before you. Not me, not Rome, not anyone. So am I supposed to assume that you’re after it, big brother?”

His face went red.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She smoothed her pullover and tried to remain calm, when all she wanted to do was scream and fling some stuff at the wall to watch it break. “Look, Grant. I love you. You’re my brother. But I am an adult. I can make my own decisions. And if I want to date an ex-con because he treats me like I’m a goddess, then I’m going to date an ex-con, understand?”

“You f**ked up, baby,” Brenna called out. “Admit it. I still love you.”

“Brenna,” Grant bit out. “Please.”

“It’s okay,” Elise said to Brenna over her shoulder as she headed to the door. “We all know he f**ked up. He can figure out how to fix it. I’m going to see how to get in touch with Rome again.”

• • •

She texted him three times and tried calling him twice while driving back into Bluebonnet. He didn’t answer, and she was starting to wonder if he was deliberately ignoring her. That hurt, but she felt like they needed to talk. If nothing else, they needed to clear the air.

She’d shown him all her scars, all her war wounds that had messed with her head and stolen her pride. Rome’s scars were on the inside, and it was clear he hadn’t trusted her enough to share them. That made her ache and question if she was so sure after all. Did he love her? Or was she just seeing it because she so desperately wanted to? Elise didn’t know, and it was driving her crazy.

Numb, she parked her car and went into the Peppermint House. Should she stay? How could she possibly leave? She wanted to be where Rome was, though, and Rome wasn’t here.

The house smelled delicious and homey, as always. Elise passed by the kitchen and saw Emily slicing a fresh-baked loaf of bread. At the sight of Elise, Emily smiled. “Hey, you’re just in time for some fresh bread if you want to eat.” Her smile faded when she saw the look on Elise’s face. “Oh no. What’s wrong?”

Elise’s first thought was to hole up in her room. To internalize her pain and frustration and deal with it alone, like she always did.

But something about Emily’s friendly demeanor and the warmth of her kitchen drew Elise toward her, and she found herself sitting at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Emily never judged. She was sweet, friendly, supportive, and only a few years older than Elise. She was also divorced and lonely, which meant that she’d understand some of what Elise was going through more than Brenna, who was madly in love with Elise’s brother . . . and, okay, also a little mad.

Emily put a cup of coffee in front of Elise and buttered a slice of warm bread, then put it on a plate and slid it toward Elise. “You need to talk?”

“Rome’s gone,” Elise said woodenly. “He just . . . left.”

Emily frowned, pulling up a stool and sitting next to Elise. “But didn’t you just spend the weekend together? Did something come up?”

Elise blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. Then, in a halting voice, she explained to Emily what was going on. Her shy, slow romance with Rome. Their weekend together. Returning and finding out that not only had he gone, but Grant had threatened him. The discovery of Rome’s past. Everything.

Emily Allard-Smith was a great listener. She said nothing, only making sympathetic noises when appropriate, and she poured extra coffee when Elise gulped hers down.

“I . . . don’t know what to do,” Elise said, numb, the cup warm in her hands.

“How do you feel about Rome now that you know the truth about who he is?” Emily reached out and squeezed her hand. “Betrayed?”

Elise thought for a moment. “Actually, I don’t feel any different about him. I love him. He’s still the same person. It’s just like . . . a few pieces of the puzzle have been filled in. Things that didn’t make sense before now suddenly make a lot more sense.” His loneliness that matched hers. His isolation. His constant commentary that he wasn’t good enough for her.

“I have to ask, as your friend.” Emily said, taking a bite of fresh bread and then setting it down. “This isn’t some sort of martyr thing where you think you can save him and change him, right? Redeem the bad boy? I don’t get that vibe from you, but I have to ask.”

A wry smile twisted Elise’s mouth. “He may look like a bad boy, but he’s the nicest man I’ve ever met. And he treats me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world to him.” Her lower lip trembled. “And now he’s gone.”

Emily looked over at Elise. She exhaled slowly, and then pulled her phone out, thumbing through her contacts.

“What are you doing?” Elise asked, her heart racing with hope. Did . . . did Emily know Rome well enough that he’d answer her call? Could it really be that easy? She peeked over Emily’s shoulder, watching her phone screen.

But Emily thumbed to a listing in her contacts labeled CARPENTER and dialed it. A moment later, she spoke. “Hey, Jericho? It’s Emily over at the Peppermint House.” She paused. “Yeah, that’s the one. The big red Victorian.” She looked over at Elise and rolled her eyes, amused. “I need you to come over for a bit, please. I want you to take a look at something.” Pause. “Great, thanks.”