Brynn

 

 

I swing open the rooftop door to find him there. I knew the second I heard the soft raps at the door that it would be Smith. I'd come straight to the top of the world from the brownstone.

"You've been crying." He reaches for my face with both hands and cups it. "Jesus, Brynn. This is all fucked up."

It is. When I knocked at the door of the brownstone, I fully expected Smith to answer. I was shocked when a tall woman with a long blond braid greeted me. She knew Smith she said, but he didn't live there. He lives in Brooklyn she told me before she pulled me into the house and introduced me to his family.

I met his brother, his nephews and finally, I met, Gramps, his handsome grandfather.

Gramps sat silently in a chair and watched me as I talked to Smith's brother and nephews. Out of nowhere, his granddad blurted out that I looked like Caroline.

My heart stopped for a full two beats at that moment. 

He moved to sit next to me then and told me stories about when they were both children in the house. He'd push her on the swing that used to hang from a tree out back; a tree that was chopped down at some point and replaced with a fountain and a statue of a dog.

He showed me the garden and the kitchen where my grandma used to sit on the floor and draw.

Then he pointed out the pantry and the script of her name that is still barely visible on the door.

Smith bought that home for his family so his grandpa could enjoy the memories he made there and so his brother, his wife and their sons could create a life there for themselves.

"My grandma knew your grandpa," I say through a small sob. "You bought the house for him. I wanted to buy it for her."

"You wanted to buy the house?" He ushers me across the roof to where the two chairs are. "Do you want to sit?"

"No." I shake my head. "I mean yes. I wanted to buy the house. I don't want to sit."

"We need to back up." He reaches for both of my hands and I let him. I don't pull away because I need the comfort. I've been aching for it since I left the brownstone. "Why did you go there, Brynn? What made you think I live there?"

I don't know which direction to head with this. I can tell him that I saw him outside when I was semi-stalking the place or I can tell him I made a broker break his code of ethics by telling me that Smith was the person who bought the brownstone. I decide to tell him the truth. "I did see you on the street with groceries the other day. I was on the sidewalk across from the brownstone. Also, three years ago I asked someone to check who bought the place when Sigrid put it up for sale. I know it was you."

He takes a measured step back but his hands don't leave mine. "Do you know Sigrid?"

Would it matter at this point if I did? I don't give a shit that the two of them were likely sharing an expensive bottle of champagne along with a great fuck to celebrate Smith closing on her brownstone. I do give two shits about the fact that my life feels like it just fell off the edge of the earth and I'm coasting through the universe with nothing to ground me right now. "No. I never met her. I got her name from the agent I used to help me place my offer."

"Your offer?"

I pull my hands from his to scrub the back of my neck with my fingers. "The offer I put in for the brownstone, Smith. That's how I knew who Sigrid was. That's also why I called you twice asking you to put in a good word for me with her so she would accept my offer. I wanted to live in that house with my grandma. It was her dream. She told me she spent the happiest moments of her life in that house."

He stumbles back until his heels hit the edge of one of the chairs. He lowers himself down into the seat. "What the hell? What?"

"What the hell about what?" I parrot back. "You already know all of this."

He rests both of his elbows on his thighs, his head hanging down. "I know none of this, Brynn. None of it. I had no idea you wanted that place. I never got a call from you. You and I only spoke on the phone once, and that was when you were at Easton Pub and I came to get you."

Technically, that's true. "I left you two voicemail messages about Sigrid's place. I never heard back."

He looks down at the phone in his hand. "You called what number?"

"Your number," I say exasperated.

"Julian gave you my number?" He waves his phone in the air.

"No." I swallow past the lump in my throat. "I wanted to buy the house on my own and surprise my family, so I didn't ask for any of their help, not even Julian's. I called your office in Los Angeles. You were doing that Hollywood gossip show then."

A grin peaks the corners of his mouth. "It was an entertainment newsmagazine."

I don't want to love that smile as much as I do right now but my heart won't let me hate it anymore, or him. "You didn't get my messages, did you?"

"Not a one." He taps his phone against the arm of the chair. "My assistant screened all my calls. She had hundreds a day to run through. A lot of them were from women wanting to talk directly to me so I gave her carte blanche to delete everything she didn't think was worth my time."

That explains that.

"You said you put an offer in on the brownstone?" His jaw tightens. "Sigrid told me that mine was the only one on the table."

Since we're putting everything out there, I take it an extra step. "My offer was full ask, cash, a thirty day close and no contingencies."

My eyes wander to the view of the Brooklyn Bridge. It's no wonder he was staring in that direction the other night. It's the place he now calls home.

"All cash and no contingencies? My offer was shit compared to that."

"I know," I blurt out without thinking.

"You know?" He lifts his brows and tilts his head.

"I went all in against the advice of my broker. I assume your broker wouldn't let you do that." I try to correct with a small smile.

"Either Sigrid is an idiot or something doesn't add up." He swipes his finger over his phone's screen. "If you want me to find out why she took my offer, let me know and I can make the call."

"We both know why she took your offer." I shrug. "It doesn't matter at this point, Smith. Your family is happy there. I have a great apartment and the past is in the past."

"Slow down." He stands and stalks back toward me. "I don't know why she took my offer so explain that to me."

"You know why." My eyes drop to the concrete. "You two were in a relationship."

I feel his finger brush against my chin. "Look at me."

I do. I don't want to but I do.

"Sigrid's family bought the house from my great grandparents so she called my Gramps and told him the brownstone was his if he had the money. He didn't so I flew here, hammered out a deal with her and the rest is history."

"You hammered out a deal with her?" I cross my arms. "Is that a polite way of saying you slept with her to get the deal done?"

He throws his head back in laughter. "You're jealous. You think my cock is worth more than a full ask, all cash deal? I mean I think it is, but I'm fucking over the moon to know that you do too and you haven't even seen me naked yet."

Yet.

I bite my bottom lip. It sounds ridiculous when put like that. "You took her to the Met Gala."

"I had pants on." He pats his thigh. "I always had my pants on with her. My broker fought hard for the deal I got and it was nowhere close to what you were offering. Maybe Sigrid had a soft spot for Gramps or maybe she wanted the building to go back to my family. I have no fucking clue but I can find out if it means you'll stop hating me."

I just want this to be over. I'm tired of beating myself up over a house this is now home to a wonderful group of people. Whatever magic lived there when my grandma met his grandfather isn't there anymore. At least, it's not for me. My magic is the feeling in my chest. It's my heart opening up to this man in front of me.

"I don't hate you." I look into his intensely dark eyes. "I haven't handled my grandma's death very well. I needed someone to direct all my anger at."

"I'm your guy." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I get how much that hurts, Petal. I lost my grandma too. It split me in two."

"I want to be put back together," I whisper. "Can we go to Brooklyn?"

"Only if you let me kiss you when we get there." He brushes the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.

"I'll let you do more."

"What the fuck are we doing up here?" His hand reaches for mine. "Let's go."