12. Michelangelo

Iwas standing by the window, looking at the view of the gardens below, when I saw my Butterfly walk across the courtyard. Where was she off to at such a brisk pace? Meeting the person she’d been chatting with earlier when we left the airport? Did she assume I’d sleep for hours and would have no idea she’d left?

When she’d demanded we refrain from having sex, I knew what was behind it. She was terrified of relationships. Especially ones where she didn’t feel as though she was in control. I’d agreed to what she wanted, knowing, given time, I’d prove my love to her. I’d show her every day that I was a man she could rely on, not just now but for the rest of our lives.

Was whatever assignation she’d set out on one of the tactics she used when someone got too close? When she let fear take over?

As hard as it would be for me, I’d not confront her about the text messaging or her leaving the house. For now, we were friends, and I was in this for the long run. It killed me to think she was meeting another gent, maybe even for sex, but I’d have to set those feelings aside for the time being. I loved Penelope more than any other man ever could because she’d never let someone else get close enough to truly know her. Not like I did.

I grabbed the book I’d taken off the shelf, the fictionalized version of Michelangelo’s life, hoping it was boring enough that I’d drift to sleep.

When I openedmy eyes again, I knew from the change in light that I’d slept for a few hours, at least. I lay still, hoping I’d hear something to indicate Penelope had returned. Instead, the most divine scent wafted up the stairwell. Linguine alle Vongole. She was right when she said she knew my favorite. There was nothing I liked better.

I checked the time and saw it was a bit after four, which meant she was probably preparing the sauce now, but it would be a couple of hours before dinner was ready. Like most New Yorkers, Penelope rarely ate before seven or eight in the evening.

Rather than interrupt her, I reopened the book I’d only gotten a few pages into and kept reading.

“Brand? Time to wake up,”I heard a soft voice say.

I opened my eyes and looked into the beautiful face of the woman who appeared regularly in my dreams. I reached out, took the hand resting on my shoulder, and brought it to my lips, knowing that a simple kiss would prove to me being here with her was real.

“Dinner will be ready soon. I thought you might want to freshen up.”

I could hear her words, but my concentration was focused solely on the way her soft skin felt on my tongue. When I turned her hand over and kissed her palm, she gasped.

“Brand.”

Her tone drew me out of my stupor. Not because she sounded angry. Instead, my name on her lips came out like a plea. Harsh reality swept over me. Regardless of my longing or hers, I couldn’t give her what she might be asking for. I’d agreed. No sex. Until she declared our friends-only pact over, I’d respect her wishes.

I squeezed her hand and let go. “Give me fifteen minutes or so?”

“Take all the time you need. Well, no more than a half hour. Okay?”

When she stepped back, I sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be down in half that time. By the way, whatever you’re preparing smells fabulous.”

“Guaranteed to taste even better.” She winked, then left the room.

I found towels in the bathroom and turned on the shower. While it was spotless, creaky pipes led me to believe it hadn’t been used in some time. The water pressure was good, and it was plenty hot enough, although I could use a stream of cold to quell the desire I felt whenever I thought of Penelope. Her name alone made me hard.

After doing what was necessary to sit comfortably at dinner, I toweled off and put on a pair of trousers and a pullover. While I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t celebrate my birthday, I appreciated Penelope wanting to do something special for me. Typically, the only person I heard from was my mum, like I had earlier, due to the simple fact I’d rarely shared the date with anyone. No doubt Penelope had found out from Tara, who had found out from my mother.

I could hear jazz playing when I descended the final staircase from the second floor to the first, and the additional aromas wafting from the kitchen made my stomach rumble with hunger.

As I turned the corner, I was met with a resounding, “Surprise!” from people I was stunned to see. My mum, Tara, and her husband, Knox, were there, along with Doc and Merrigan, Ava and Aine, and their respective husbands, Razor and Striker. The only person who caused me discomfort to see was Richard Emsworth, my father.

While in prison, I’d come to grips with my resentment of the man who didn’t reveal himself as my parent until I was over eighteen. That was when I learned about the trust fund he’d set up in my name, which I saw as regret money. Rather than allow myself to rehash the negative feelings I’d felt then, I squared my shoulders and went about hugging everyone in the room and thanking them for coming.

When I got to him, I did the same, except rather than using the honorific one usually employed with a parent, I referred to him as Richard. I could not bring myself to do otherwise, no matter how many times he said he wished I’d call him Dad.

I eased out of his embrace and approached my Butterfly. “You’ve been busy. Thank you.”

She beamed. “It wasn’t easy to put this all together. I couldn’t respond to any of Tara’s questions on the plane for fear you’d peek over and see, which meant by the time we landed, I had at least twenty texts from her piled up. The main thing was to say Kade arranged for them to travel via one of K19’s planes and that they were in the air.”

At least twenty texts piled up.Is that what the giggling and lagging behind me was about? And when she left the town house earlier, believing I was asleep, had she been out gathering the elements of the spread laid out on the massive kitchen island? God, I was a wanker for the things I’d thought instead.

Her eyes scrunched. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing at all,” I responded, smiling down at her and wishing I could cup her cheek and kiss her for this wonderful surprise.

“Something is.”

Unable to stop myself, I put my hand on her shoulder and rested my forehead against hers. “This is the nicest, sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

She leaned closer so her mouth was near my ear. “Is Richard being here what’s bothering you? Tara insisted on inviting him.”

I shook my head. No, my issue was with the illogical assumptions I’d made about the woman I loved with all my heart without being able to share those feelings with.

“Everything is fine,” I responded.

“We’ll talk later.”

Per usual, Penelope wouldn’t relent until I fessed up to my discomfort, but could I be honest with her? What would she think of me if I told her the horrible things that had played through my mind? She deserved so much better. Thinking about it now brought me shame. She would never have done the things that, in my thoughts, I’d accused her of.

“Can I get you a glass of wine?” she asked.

“That would be lovely. I can get it, though.”

“Let me. You’re the birthday boy. And you’re crossing a milestone.”

She was right. I’d turned thirty yesterday. On one hand, I fretted about the lack of things I’d done with my life. On the other, I’d never been in a better place mentally or physically. I crossed the room to thank the man who’d played a big part in me turning my life around.

“I understand you arranged to get everyone here. Many thanks,” I said, shaking Kade’s hand since we’d embraced earlier.

“I wish we would’ve known it was your birthday when you were at the house,” said Merrigan. “We would’ve celebrated.”

“No offense meant, but I’m glad you didn’t. I loved seeing the tribe together, and that was for Pen. I wouldn’t have wanted to take anything away from the moment.”

I smiled at the woman walking toward me, carrying a glass of white wine. “Thank you, Butterfly.”

I turned back to Merrigan, who had an odd but not unpleasant look on her face. “They’re lovely together,” I overheard her say when Pen led me over to the island full of appetizers.

“I may have overdone it a bit,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I really wanted to make this special.”

Each plate had an identifier card. There were smoked-trout croquettes, goat-cheese-and-pistachio-stuffed dates, figs wrapped in pastry with goat cheese, brie-and-prosciutto shortbread, and a trio of shrimp—cocktail, pepper-marinated, and pickled.

“Wow! This all looks fabulous,” I exclaimed.

“Remember to save room for the main course and dessert.” She winked.

I felt a hand on my arm and turned to face my mother.

“I am so happy for you, my darling boy,” she said, leaning forward so we could cheek-kiss. “And so proud.”

I hadn’t given her many occasions in the last eight years to say those words. First, I’d rebelled against her and everything else in my life after learning Richard Emsworth, a man who’d been her boss for decades, was my father. Then, my arrest and subsequent incarceration.

“I hope I’m able to give you cause for it.”

“You will,” she said, patting my cheek.

I stiffened when Richard approached behind her and said, “I wasn’t aware you were working for Butler’s firm.”

“It’s a recent development.”

“But is it what you want to be doing? If he’s coerced you?—”

“Would you excuse me for a moment? My apologies, but Penelope is signaling for my help.” I looked over my shoulder to find her, then made a beeline in her direction. “What can I do to assist?”

She raised a brow but smiled. “Shall I assume you need a task to explain why you just rushed away from your mother and father?”

I leaned closer. “Please.”

“You can encourage everyone to eat. If they don’t, what you see before you will constitute every meal for the next couple of days.”

“Right. Good. And thanks.” I asked for everyone’s attention, repeated how much I appreciated their being here, and advised them to eat up before I consumed all the delectable appetizers Penelope had prepared.

All the while, I did my level best to avoid making eye contact with Richard. At some point, if I could get her off on her own, I intended to have a chat with Tara about her suggesting Penelope invite him. Yes, things between us were more cordial than they had been, but it didn’t mean I believed we’d ever have a familial relationship. Not like the one I had with her.

As I filled my plate with hors d’oeuvres, I thought again about the wildly inappropriate assumptions I’d made about Pen’s actions. Perhaps it was time I faced my own insecurities rather than dwell on hers.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.” The woman who was always on my mind sidled up next to me and plucked a shrimp from my plate.

“I most certainly am. This is lovely. Truly.”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“That isn’t it?—”

She giggled. “Liar. Just so you know, it’s about to get worse.”

My eyes opened wide. Who else had she invited? My prior cellmate?

“Everyone, since I know you’re flying back to California later tonight, I think we should have Brand open his gifts now rather than wait.”

“Gifts?” I muttered.

“Yes, Brand. It’s your birthday.”

One by one, the guests set them on the counter near me, and I opened them. Most were of the gag variety. Tara and Knox gave me a pint glass that read, “I’m twenty-nine.” Underneath it was a plus sign and a drawing of a raised middle finger. In it was a gift certificate for a beer-of-the-month club. I also received a T-shirt that read, “It took me thirty years to look this good.”

Kade and Merrigan gave me a lovely book on Italian modern art that, I suppose, had a bit of tongue-in-cheek behind it. However, skimming the pages, I realized it was something I might’ve purchased for myself.

My mum gave me a pair of cuff links she said had once belonged to her father.

When Richard approached holding an envelope he suggested I open in private, I was happy to set it aside. I had an idea of what was in it, and the last thing I wanted was to share its contents with a room full of people.

Penelope walked over and opened the door leading to the garden and motioned for me to join her. “You’ll have to follow me to see my gift to you.”

“The party alone was more than enough, Butterfly.”

She smiled. “You’ll like this better. Close your eyes.”

When she put her hand in mine, I wanted to tell her that her touch was all I needed or wanted for my birthday. In fact, it was all I needed for the rest of my life.

We took a couple of steps. “Okay, open.”

In front of me, under an overhang, sat an easel, a folding seat, and an open box with a collection of some of the nicest brushes I’d ever seen. Beside it sat another open box full of paints, and behind them were stacks of canvases of different sizes and sheets of watercolor paper.

“I didn’t know which you preferred, so I asked Tara to pick out an assortment for a variety of mediums.”

Before I could talk myself out of it, I put my arm around her waist. “This is the nicest, most thoughtful, and most extravagant gift I’ve ever received, and if you think for one minute that I can force myself to resist kissing you, you don’t know me at all. If you don’t want me to, you must tell me right now.”

When she wound her arms around my neck and looked at me with wide eyes, I crashed my mouth into hers. Was it an appropriate “thanks so much for the gift” kiss? Of course it wasn’t. When she mewled in pleasure, I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her so her body rested against mine. My desire flamed when I felt her hardened nipples poking into my flesh.

Whether anyone had followed us into the garden, it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care who saw or what they thought of my impassioned gratitude to the woman I held in my arms. She literally made my life worth living, worth turning around and vowing to be a better man.

I broke the kiss and slid her down my front. “Two things,” I whispered. “One, I’ll not apologize for this. Two, there aren’t words to tell you how much you, this night, and your many gifts mean to me.”

She brought her fingertips to her lips. “I think the kiss said all that and more. And if you apologized, I’d smack you.”

“Smack me?” I said, laughing when she did. “Well now, that’s an entirely different kind of gift.”

Her cheeks flushed. “We should probably return inside before dinner is no longer edible.”

“It is quite a conundrum. Should I remain out here with you in my arms or return inside and partake in my very favorite meal?” I closed my eyes and raised my face to the night sky. “I suppose I’ve broken the friendship pact.”

I looked down when Penelope twisted from my arms. Just as she reached the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. “It lasted longer than I thought it might.”

Before I could respond, she was out of reach and too far away for me to ask if her words meant what I hoped they did without everyone else hearing.

The dinner and dessert ahead, while I’m sure delectable, would be the longest of my life.