Pieces of Us - Carrie Elks Page 0,70

She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes glinting. “But you told me we couldn’t work because you weren’t into commitment. That you only wanted something casual. That it wasn’t about me.”

“It wasn’t.”

“So why is it not casual with her? Why are you ready to commit with her when you said you never would be?” Her bottom lip trembled.

It was the same question he’d been asking himself for the past couple of weeks. What was it about Autumn that made him want to change all his perfectly ordered rules? To open up the armor he’d carefully constructed around his heart and let himself be vulnerable?

“She’s different,” he said softly. “That’s why.”

Carla’s face fell. “You said you couldn’t commit to anybody.”

“I didn’t believe I could.”

She took in a ragged breath, then blew it out again. “So why couldn’t you be with me?” Her voice broke, and it made him break a little. Because they’d been friends once, before he’d messed everything up between them. And even if they hadn’t, he wasn’t inhuman. He didn’t want to see anybody suffer.

Especially not because of him.

“I told you before. It’s not you, it’s me.” He looked down at the wooden planks beneath his feet, fixating on a raised knot. “I was really careful to be honest with you all along. I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t make any promises I couldn’t keep.” He looked up. “And I never meant to break your heart.”

She stifled a sob. “But you did. I really thought you were a good man, Griff. An honorable one. And maybe I thought I could change you.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say, because she was right. He’d tried to be good and honorable. Never to hurt anybody the way he’d been hurt all his life. But he’d done it anyway, without meaning to, and it made him feel like crap.

“It’s not going to work between you two,” Carla said, lifting her chin up. “You must know that. She’s out of your league. I can tell that just by looking at her. She’s rich, she’s classy.” Carla laughed. “And I have no idea what she sees in you.”

Any vulnerability she’d had was gone, replaced by the hissing anger he’d become used to. The Carla she’d been ever since they’d ended things. The crazy thing was, he preferred it this way. He could deal with furious Carla.

But tearful Carla was another matter altogether.

“I have no idea either,” he admitted. “But I’m just telling myself I’m a lucky sonofabitch.”

“Luck always runs out,” she spat.

“I guess we’ll see about that.” He rolled his stiff neck and looked out at the ocean. “Is that everything you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah. I have nothing else to say.” She crossed her arms over her ample chest.

He flashed her the briefest of smiles. “Okay. Take care of yourself.”

“I will. And you can go fuck yourself.”

His lips twitched, but he managed to stop himself from laughing. God, she was certifiable. Her abrupt change of mood made it much easier to walk away from her, even though he still felt like a piece of shit.

Relationships weren’t for the faint hearted. He knew that much.

But once in a lifetime you found the one person it was worth risking everything for. And for him, Autumn was that person.

He just hoped he was her person, too.

“So Griff is hot,” Lydia said, fanning her face as she sat down on the corner of Autumn’s old mahogany desk. “And big. Jesus, he’s like Aquaman. But a bit less wet.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that.” Autumn shook her head as she pulled an old photograph out from beneath Lydia’s butt. It was one she’d scanned to be blown up onto the huge canvasses that would line the pier on the charity day. It showed a beautiful woman wearing a long, pale dress, an elaborate bustle pushing the fabric out from her hips, emphasizing her tiny waist. She was holding a lace-edged parasol, the stem resting on her shoulder as she lifted her head up to the sky, her eyes closed.

Of all the photographs Frank Megassey had loaned her, this was Autumn’s favorite. She wasn’t completely sure why. Maybe it was the rapt expression on the woman’s face, or the beautiful clothes she was wearing. Whatever it was, it made Autumn feel warm inside. Content, even.

“So who was that woman who looked at him like he’d just killed her cat?” Lydia asked casually. “Cara, was it?”

“Carla,” Autumn corrected her. “Her dad owns the restaurant.