Love Around the Corner

by Amanda Weaver

“Yes,” she snapped, although with a lot less conviction than she had a second ago. Because it felt like she was lying. But imagining something was not the same thing as wanting it. People imagined shit all the time that they had no intention of ever doing. That’s what fantasies were for. But this bar...this bar was the only thing she’d ever wanted.

  “I know you, honey. I know you better than either of your sisters because you’ve been a lot more than a daughter to me. You’ve been my best friend and my business partner for years. I know you, inside and out. And I know you’ve never let yourself want more because you didn’t think you could have it, and that’s my fault.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Dad looked down, shaking his head. “When your mother died, I’m not sure if we’d have made it through in one piece if not for you. You stepped up and held this family together when I couldn’t.”

  “Because it’s my family, too.”

  “Yeah, but I let you keep doing it. I relied on you too much. So much that I didn’t notice that you’d never even bothered to dream for yourself. You were too busy dreaming for your sisters. What kind of kid grows up without a dream?”

  “This was my dream.”

  “Because it’s the only one you let yourself have. Your sisters went off to Ivy League colleges and careers while you did what you thought you had to do. You chained yourself to this bar as it crumbled into the ground.”

  “It was my choice. It’s still my choice.”

  He looked her in the eye. “I’m not letting it happen again. You might hate me for this, but I’m doing what I should have done for you years ago. I’m setting you free, Gem.”

  Her eyes were burning with unshed tears and her throat ached, either with a sob or a scream, she couldn’t tell which. All she knew was that she was burning up with helpless, frustrated rage and there was only one person to aim it at. “I do hate you. How can you do this to me? How can you do it to us? Do you know what he’s going to do with it? He’s going to tear it down! The building we’ve owned for nearly a hundred years. Torn down!” Her eyes flicked to the mirror behind the bar, with Romano’s written in flaking gold paint, and the pain in her throat coalesced into a sob. Gone. It would all be gone. She couldn’t bear to think about it.

  “Nothing lasts forever, honey. This place has been good to the family, way beyond what Grandpa Romano could have ever envisioned. But it’s time.”

  Gemma shook her head frantically. “No, not if we don’t let it be. Not if we keep fighting.”

  Immovable as a mountain, Dad watched her. “We’ve fought all we can for this bar, but now it’s done. I’m picking a new fight for the next generation. I’m fighting for you this time.”

  She tried to draw a breath but ended up choking on a sob. The tears were crowding her eyes now, turning every well-worn, familiar corner of this place into a watery blur, like it was already fading into memory. “Keep your damned fight,” she spat. “I don’t want it.”

  And because she couldn’t bear to spend another moment surrounded by everything she’d ever wanted and just lost, she turned and fled.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  As the afternoon crept on and the light grew longer, it got colder, but Brendan didn’t move from his post on Gemma’s front stoop. If he knew her—and he did—this was the first place she’d come after whatever was going down with her father.

  He’d fucked up. He’d known it the instant he met her gaze in the bar and saw the realization sink in.

  When John had called him up to talk it through, once he’d gotten over the shock, it had seemed like the best possible solution for everybody. He needed the plot, John needed to sell, and selling to him was bound to be easier for Gem than seeing her building go to a stranger, with no control over what happened to it. At least if he bought it, she’d still be a part of it, in a way. John had convinced him to leave Gemma out of it for the moment. He’d thought it would be easier for her.

  At the time, it had all made sense, but maybe that was just because he’d wanted it to. John’s proposal had so neatly solved all Brendan’s problems that he’d convinced himself the rest—Gemma—would work out somehow. Now he could see with crystal clarity how this looked to her, and it was bad. It didn’t matter what he planned to do with her building, her bar. She was losing it, and that’s all that mattered. Losing it to him. That wouldn’t make it easier; it would make it worse. He’d just become her enemy.

  It was too late to undo the damage. All he could hope now was that she loved him enough to give him a chance to explain, apologize, make it up to her. If she didn’t...well, he’d face that when he had to.

  He was staring between his feet at a crack in the concrete step when her shadow finally fell across him. His head jerked up.

  “Gemma—”

  Her face was pale and blotchy, her eyes red and puffy with tears. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but you’d better go.”

  He scrambled to his feet. “Look, we need to talk—”

  “What do we have to talk about? It all seems pretty clear from where I’m standing. You needed a property, so you swept in when we were down and made my dad an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

  “That’s not how it happened—”

  “I don’t care!” she screamed, her ragged voice echoing off the front of the brownstones all the way down the block.

  Moving down the steps toward her, he held up his hands. “This was your father’s idea—”

  She staggered back several steps, so he stopped his advance. “And you just happened to be there with your checkbook out. How fucking convenient.”

  He stopped short, stunned at the venom in her voice, and at what she was implying. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I got involved with you to get your bar.”

  “You sure were in the right place at the right time.”

  Her accusation hit him like a fist in the chest. Not once had he expected her to think him capable of something like that. “That’s not fair.”

  “Fair?” she cried. “What’s fair about me losing the bar? My family losing its legacy? That’s what’s not fair. But here you are walking away with exactly what you wanted. Seems if anybody’s coming out of this on top, it’s you.”

  Yes, yes, and yes. What was she saying that wasn’t true? But he had to try to explain, had to attempt to reach her before it was too late.

  “The bar was going to be sold one way or another. If it wasn’t me, it would have been somebody else. Somebody who doesn’t give a shit what gets built there. Where Romano’s once stood, one of those godawful glass and aluminum pieces of shit from up the street, full of a bunch of people who aren’t part of this neighborhood, who contribute nothing. Is that what you want?”

  “What I want is my bar! The bar that was my father’s, and my grandfather’s, and my great-grandfather’s. It was supposed to be mine!” The tears started again, streaking down her cheeks. He never could stand to see her cry.

  “Gem,” he said carefully. “The writing has been on the wall for a while now—”

  “Shut up! You don’t understand—”

  “I understand what your father is trying to do. He’s trying to take what’s inevitable and make something good out of it. For you. That’s what I want, too.”

  She threw up her hands and spun away. “Oh, God, save me from all these fucking men in my life who think they know what’s best for me!”

  “Nobody’s trying to tell you what to do, Gem.” Except they had, he realized with a sinking feeling. He and her father had gone behind her back and made a deal she should have been a part of.

  She spun back, eyes blazing, as she thrust her finger at him. “No, you’re all just taking away my choice.”

  “Your father is trying to give you choices. Choices you never had before. That’s what I want for you, too.”

  “Right. Just like y
ou took away my choice when you didn’t tell me what was happening with your family. You just left and broke my heart.”

  “I told you I was wrong about that—”

  “And you’re wrong about this!”

  “Wrong for thinking you’re destined for a hell of a lot more than pouring beers for a bunch of old men? That you can do better than some forgotten old bar in Brooklyn?” As soon as the words left his mouth—no matter how true they might be—he knew he’d fucked up.

  Her expression went icy. “Those old men are my family. That place is my home.”

  He took a step toward her, reaching out a hand. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to make things better for you—”

  She slapped him away. “Yeah, that’s what you said last time. For the last goddamned time, I am not your mother. I didn’t need you to protect me from this, to fix this for me. Whatever happens to the bar, it should have been my choice to see it through. Mine!”

  “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me now, so I’ll go. When you’re ready, we’ll talk—”

  She took another step back, her face closing up like she’d just locked herself away in a vault. “I’m not going to be ready to talk to you. I’m never going to be ready.”

  There was something cold and final in her voice, something that sent a shaft of fear through his heart. “Gem—”

  “Leave! I mean, you got what you came back for anyway, right?”

  She was baiting him, lashing out in her anger and pain, but that didn’t stop the barb from landing and digging in. All his life, all he’d done was try to help—his mother, Gemma. He tried and tried, and somehow he always managed to screw it up. The people he tried to protect got hurt anyway, or he wound up hurting them himself. “I didn’t come back here for your damned bar and you know it. I came back here for you.”

  “Well, you should stick to real estate, then, Brendan, because you can’t buy me as easily as you bought my bar.” Her eyes flashed with fury, and her rage twisted up her beautiful face. “I don’t want to talk rationally about how you’ve destroyed my future. I have nothing to say about that, Brendan, so you’d better just leave and keep on going.”

  It was hard to draw a breath, but somehow it kept happening without his willing it to. His heart kept beating even as it caved in on itself. “I suppose,” he finally managed to say, “it doesn’t matter that I love you?”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed, those hard, glassy eyes never leaving his. “I’ve heard that one before. But I’m not dumb enough to fall for it twice.”

  Once again, he’d managed to hurt Gemma, and this time, he knew in his bones he wouldn’t have another chance to make it up to her. Everything that had happened since he’d come back to Brooklyn, everything they’d done to find their way back to each other—he’d undone it all with one stupid, thoughtless, self-serving action. It didn’t matter what his intention had been, it didn’t matter that he’d wanted to protect her. All he’d done was devastate her life. Twice. He should have just stayed gone. That’s what would have been best for Gemma Romano.

  Drawing as deep a breath as he could, he looked into her face for what was probably going to be the last time. She deserved to hear this from him, whatever she decided to do with the knowledge once he was gone. “I love you, Gemma. It was the truth then. It’s the truth now.”

  Then he did as she asked and he left.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Brendan was gone.

  Because she told him to leave, and he left. Which was good, because she couldn’t bear to look at him right now. She couldn’t bear to hear that gentle voice as he tried to explain he’d done all this for her, that he loved her... What a joke.

  She looked up at the front of their dark house. That’s what Dad had said, too. All of this was for her, so she’d have her fucking freedom, whatever that meant. Her skin crawled with anger she had no outlet for. Her guts twisted with a pain she’d never get over. The betrayal was bitter in her throat.

  One thing was for sure, she couldn’t stand the sight of either of them right now. So she didn’t go inside. She turned and left, headed for the subway entrance and escape.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was banging on Jess’s bright blue front door. After all the wrangling over where they’d live—the luxury Upper East Side four-story townhouse Dan Drake tried to buy them, versus the studio apartment with sloping floors and a mouse problem that Jess had advocated for—they’d compromised with this place. It was small, an old carriage house in Brooklyn Heights, but by no means shabby. The outside might look straight out of turn-of-the century Brooklyn with the old barn door and the red-brick facade, but it was an understated masterpiece inside.

  “Hang on!” Jess called from inside.

  A second later, she threw the door open.

  “You should always ask who it is before you open,” Gemma said automatically.

  “Did you come all the way over here just to scold me?”

  Abruptly, Gemma crumpled, the tears starting up again and a ragged sob tearing its way out of her throat.

  “Gem!” Jess reached for her, pulling her inside and nudging the door closed. “What is it? Has something happened to Dad?”

  “Other than him being a heartless bastard?”

  Jess absorbed that, eyes wide. “Okay, inside.”

  She dragged Gemma by the hand through the house. It still nominally looked like the barn it had once been, with rough-hewn dark beams overhead and whitewashed walls. But the wood floors were polished to a high gleam, with a bright Turkish rug making the room feel homey. One wall was exposed brick with a fireplace, where a small log crackled on the hearth. The back of the open-plan space was given over to their enviable kitchen. The skylight overhead was dark now that night had fallen, and the garden on the other side of the wall of glass doors was dark, too. An open circular staircase on one wall led to the second floor, where the bedroom was. Jess had managed to navigate the line between Alex’s astounding wealth and her own down-to-earth sensibility admirably. The house was small, cozy, and perfect.

  When they reached the big squishy bright red sofa, Jess nudged her until she sat. Then she went to the kitchen island where an open bottle of wine stood on the counter, and fetched two glasses from the overhead rack, which she could only reach by kneeling on a bar stool. After pouring two healthy glasses, she came back and handed one to Gemma before sitting next to her on the sofa, angling her body to face her.

  “Okay, what’s going on?”

  It took Gemma a minute to get the words out. Every time she said them or thought them, it seemed to make them more real, more irrevocable, something she’d never be able to undo.

  “Dad’s selling the bar.”

  Gemma waited for Jess’s outraged explosion, for the hysterics, but it never came. When she looked up at her baby sister, Jess was watching her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not even a little bit upset?”

  Jess bit her lip and looked down. “I’m devastated, of course. The bar is like home. But I’m also not surprised. Gem, I keep the books, remember? I’m amazed you guys have kept it going this long.”

  For the first time since Dad dropped the bomb on her, it occurred to her that he might have had a point. Maybe all the determination and fight in the world wouldn’t have been enough to save it. If anybody would know the truth of their situation, it was Jess. The thought gave her no comfort. It just made the whole thing feel more final, like the door had just been slammed and locked, and there was no opening it again. Her eyes burned with yet more tears. Right now, it felt like they’d never stop falling.

  “He’s selling the building, too.”

  Jess nodded sagely. “Makes sense. It needs so much work, and with only the one rental unit upstairs, it can barely pay for itself.”

  “But...they’re going to tear it down, J
ess. It’ll be gone.”

  At that, Jess’s features crumpled slightly. “I know. And it’s going to kill me to see it go, but nothing lasts forever.”

  “You sound just like Dad.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t take the news well?”

  Gemma thought back to that horrible confrontation in the bar... She’d yelled at Dad. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done that before. And she’d told him she hated him. A sob rose up and choked her.

  Jess reached for her, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, sweets, I’m so sorry. This is going to be hardest on you.”

  “I’m just so mad.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “I can’t even look at Dad right now. If I do, I’ll start screaming, or I’ll say something I’ll regret later.”

  “So maybe stay here for a couple of days. Or you could go to Brendan’s.”

  The mention of his name was like a punch in the gut. “He’s gone,” she whispered. Then another wrenching sob wracked her chest.

  “Gem, what happened?”

  “He’s the one buying the building. He knew! He knew how much it meant to me, but at the first chance he got, he swept in and scooped it up. And now it’s all gone. And everywhere I turn, there’s somebody who helped take it from me. Dad and Brendan and...”

  She couldn’t finish, bending over until her face was against her knees, letting the sobs roll through her unabated. Jess was silent at her side, just rubbing her back. Then abruptly, she stood and walked away.

  Gemma sat up. “Jess?”

  But she was turned away, her cell phone against her ear. “Hey. Gemma’s here and there’s, well, there’s a situation. I know I’ve never asked you for this before, but I need a favor from your dad.”

  Gemma listened to Jess’s one-sided conversation for a moment in confusion. Then Jess hung up and turned back to face her. “Okay, we’re going to St. Croix.”

  “I...what?”

  “Dan’s estate in St. Croix. We’re borrowing it for a few days. And his private plane. We’re leaving as soon as the pilot can file the flight plan.”