Keir

It isn’t over.

As soon as Rowan calms down, she’ll be more receptive.

She has to know what we had was real. How can she deny the intensity of what was going on between us? I felt it. I felt it all.

And I feel it still.

I love her.

Striding through the lobby of Rowan’s apartment building, Bob the doorman flags me down.

“Sir, I believe you dropped this earlier,” he says, holding up a Burberry scarf.

“That isn’t mine.” I keep walking.

“Oh.” He seems confused. “But you were here this morning, weren’t you? To see Ms. Aldridge?”

I stop, turning toward him. “No.”

His mouth presses flat. “My mistake then.”

It only hits me a minute later when we’re driving through downtown DC—Hunter.

Of course he would show up at Rowan’s door the morning after Mary Kate dumped him, and I’m sure he wasted no time showing her the article announcing my candidacy. Not to mention Hunter’s been wearing Burberry scarves since college. It all adds up.

I’m going to kill him.

Leaning forward, I tell my driver to head to Baltimore, and I grab my phone. If I can’t find his address myself, I can find someone to do it for me.

“May I ask where we’re going, sir?” My driver grips the wheel of the Cadillac as he glances into the rearview.

“I need to have a word with Hunter Harrington,” I tell him.

“Forgive me for prying,” he says.

I place my phone aside. My driver rarely speaks up, and I tend to forget he’s sitting there like a silent sponge, soaking up all my secrets and reserving judgement like the professional he is.

“If by having a word, you mean … doing something that’s going to get you into trouble,” he says, “is there any chance I might be able to talk you out of it?”

I half-chuckle. He’s too fucking polite to take seriously.

“It’s just that, you’ve been working so hard at … evolving … and I’d hate to see you take ten steps backward,” he says. “In my experience, people like Hunter aren’t worth your energy.”

Leaning back, I crack the window and pull in a lungful of crisp fall air. As much as I would love nothing more than to inflict a world of pain onto that scheming asshole, he isn’t worth the trouble.

“Take me home,” I say, resting my head against the cool glass and closing my eyes.

When I get home, the sky is dark, my apartment is dark, and my world is dark. Taking a seat in the living room, I stare out the window, toward a city that contains the only thing in the world that I want which happens to be the only thing in the world I don’t have.

At least for now.

My eyes focus on the handprint centered on the glass, a remnant of last night when I fucked her against the window.

Just thinking about that night, I can almost feel her soft skin under my palms, can almost smell her sweet arousal. What I wouldn’t give to feel her warmth, see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her warmth as she climbs over top of me in bed.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to pass out, and if I’m lucky enough, maybe I’ll see her in my dreams. For now, it’s the only place I can go to be with her again.

I’m almost gone when there’s a knock at my door.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I rise from my spot, smoothing my shirt and gathering my composure as I head to the door. Every fiber of my body wants to believe it’s her on the other side, that she’s finally come to her senses and convinced herself to forgive me—whether or not I deserve it.

Only the person standing on the other side of the door is the last person I want to see in this moment.

“Keir, hi.” My brother, Ronan, whom I haven’t seen in years, stands before me. His hands rest casually in his jeans pockets and his identical blue eyes search mine.

“Couldn’t have called?” I don’t try to hide my annoyance, exhaling hard through my nose and staring past him.

“You changed your number,” he says. “Remember?”

Yawning, I shrug. “Right. I did change my number, didn’t I? I’m thinking there was probably good reason for that, too.”

“I’d like to talk,” he says. “If you have a moment.”

“I don’t.”

His mouth twists into a smirk. He doesn’t take me seriously. Typical Ronan, refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer, even from his own brother. Fortunately, I’m not drinking the Ronan Montgomery Kool-Aid. Never have, never will.

“Keir, please,” he says, his expression fading and his brows meeting. His mouth forms a hard line.

“Why should I give you any of my time?” I ask.

“Because it’s important,” he says, turning to his side and extending his arm. A moment later, he pulls Camille close. Apparently, she’d been standing there the entire time. “Because we came all this way to talk.”

The two of them exchange looks, like they’re reading each other’s fucking thoughts, and I groan. They’re sickeningly perfect for each other, and maybe deep down, a part of me has resented him for finding true happiness, for having the courage to forge a path Montgomery men have never known before, for not being a slave to his legacy.

I’m falling apart on the inside, unable to recognize my own thoughts, and that means he’s lucky. I’ll let him in. But only because I don’t have the energy to hurl dig after dig in their direction right now.

Swinging the door wide, I step aside and let them enter the very apartment I once almost fucked Camille in. It’s different now, having undergone a renovation earlier this year, but she doesn’t seem the least bit fazed about being here. In fact, she strides toward my living room like a woman on a mission.

Ronan takes the spot next to her on the sofa, interlacing his hand in hers.

I don’t sit.

I don’t want to give them the impression that I’m getting comfortable in anticipation of a leisurely visit.

Resting my hands on my hips, I peer down my nose at the two of them until my brother’s wife finally pulls in a deep breath and meets my hard stare.

“I just wanted to apologize, Keir, for what my memoir did to your family.” Her shoulders sag as she breathes in, as if her apologize instantly removed. “At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Emotions were running high. I … I won’t make any more excuses. The fact is, I’m sorry that this family hasn’t spoken in years.”

Ronan squeezes her hand, giving her a reassuring nod before returning his gaze to me. “Love makes you do crazy things, things you never thought you’d do in a million years. And when you find someone you really love, you do everything in your power to be together. Even if you hurt other people in the process. The way you behaved—and the way Mom behaved—is still inexcusable. But for us to air that dirty laundry the way we did … let’s just say, it hasn’t sat well with us over the years.”

All this talk of “we” and “us” makes me want to roll my eyes. It’s like they’re one fucking person, sharing the same brain, the same heart, the same soul.

And yet, I’d do anything to have that with Rowan.

“Don’t apologize, Camille.” I exhale, finally taking a seat and resting my face in my hands. I deserved every word she wrote, all of it true. “It’s in the past.”

I owe her an apology as well, but I won’t be tactless and piggyback on hers. I’ll wait for another moment and give her a proper one, the kind she deserves.

“Anyway,” Ronan says, clearing this throat and looking at his love again. “One of the reasons we decided to come here was because we want your nephew to know his cool, rebellious uncle Keir.”

My brows lift and my gaze drops to her stomach. I’m not sure how I missed it before but there it is.

A baby bump.

My heart skips, which is odd.

I’ve never cared much for babies, for runny noses, poopy diapers, and screaming, uncontrollable monsters.

But this … this is family.

“Jesus. Guys.” I run my hand through my hair, and it’s as if the pent up anger and resentment I’ve bottled all these years has suddenly taken a back seat to this moment. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Keir.” Camille places a palm over her belly and offers a warm smile. “If you two will excuse me for a moment …”

She rises, showing herself down the hall until she finds the spare bath.

It’s just my brother and me. Alone. First time in years.

We lock eyes from across the living room, both of us seated with our elbows on our knees, hunched over. We’re mirrored. And though I’ve never admitted it, I’ve missed him all this time. It’s been rough not having someone to talk to you can relate to the insanity that comes with being a Montgomery.

Clasping my hands together and rubbing my palms, I lift my brows and ask, “No regrets?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “No regrets.”

I nod.

“You ever think about leaving here? Embracing life outside the spotlight? Meeting a nice girl and settling down?” he asks with a slight chuckle in his tone.

Exhaling, I say, “Never thought about leaving town, but I did meet a nice girl.”

His brows rise. “No shit?”

“No shit.” I lean back, sinking into my leather chair and peering toward the wall of glass overlooking the city. She’s out there somewhere. And it kills me not to be with her, to not know what she’s doing this very moment, if she’s missing me, thinking about me.

“I’d love to meet her,” Ronan says.

My stare redirects toward him. “And you will. Eventually.”

I don’t elaborate. And maybe my declaration is more for my benefit.

I refuse to believe it’s over, that I’ll never see Rowan again.

“Was going to ask you,” Ronan says, clearing his throat. “Think you could arrange a meeting with Mom and Dad? We’d like to talk to them too.”

“Of course.”

The click of Camille’s heels from the hallway pulls our attention away. “We should probably head to the hotel. It’s been a long day. Keir, thank you for being so … gracious … about this.”

I rise, showing the two of them out, watching the way Ronan’s hand rests gently on the small of her back. He’s protective of her. And now that she’s carrying his child, she’s his entire world.

He’s lucky.

And I never thought I’d say that about him.