‘You’re late,’ Luke said, as his kid brother Jack strolled into the small bar in Les Halles. Tucked in a side street, the dark interior smelled of stale beer and garlic and was crammed with tiny tables full of burly guys who looked as if they’d just finished unpacking truckloads of fresh fruit and vegetables as Paris’s premiere market, probably because they had.
‘I didn’t come all the way from Manhattan to see you, just to get blown off for …’ Luke checked his watch. ‘Close to forty-five minutes.’
He’d made the last-minute decision to come to Paris yesterday, after only five days back in New York, when he’d received the text from his brother saying he was going to be hanging out in the City of Lights for the summer. But now Luke was here, he didn’t know why he’d bothered. Sure, his penthouse had felt like a prison the last five nights, and he hadn’t seen his brother in a while, but he had a ton of work to do in New York and Jack clearly did not appreciate his efforts to totally rearrange his schedule just to make this meet-up happen.
‘Stop pissing and moaning and give me a hug, man,’ Jack said, then tugged him out of his chair and pulled him into his embrace.
Luke hugged him back, the irritation subsiding as he absorbed the smell of motor oil and leather and soap that clung to his brother’s standard uniform of battered jeans, T-shirt and biker jacket.
Standing back, Jack gripped Luke’s shoulders. ‘Good to see you, too, big bro,’ he said, still smiling that killer smile, then signalled to the bartender.
Luke sat, fighting the dumb lump of something closing his throat.
Jack was a pain in the butt, he always had been, and after this afternoon he probably wouldn’t see him again for another year, because his brother was currently drifting his way through Europe doing odd jobs, as far as he knew.
‘What you having?’ Jack asked, as if the last time they’d seen each other had been a week ago, instead of close to twelve months by Luke’s count.
The barmaid, who’d been super surly when Luke had walked in forty-five minutes ago, hurried over to take Jack’s order as if someone had lit a fire under her butt.
Funny that. But then, Jack tended to have that effect on women. The more laid-back he was, the more attentive they became.
‘A Stella, I guess,’ he said.
‘Not a Sam?’ Jack asked, surprising Luke by remembering the brand of bottled beer he drank. He shook his head. The last Sam Adams he’d had was in Brynn’s, with Ruby crooning to him.
He cut off the thought. Not going there.
‘They don’t have the Boston Lager here,’ he murmured, knowing that wasn’t the real reason. He was avoiding anything that reminded him of her. Unfortunately, that was turning out to be pretty much everything from his empty minimalist penthouse in the Meatpacking District – because it wasn’t her cramped apartment above The Royale – to his favourite craft beer.
‘Such a purist,’ Jack mocked, then ordered from the waitress. His brother bantered back and forth with the punky girl in perfect French for a moment, then she headed off to get their order, all the time grinning at his brother as if he were cuter than Ryan Reynolds.
‘Looks like you scored,’ Luke mumbled, as Jack pulled out the chair opposite, flipped it round, then straddled it. What was it about Jack that he could never sit on a chair properly?
Jack watched the woman leave, his gaze lingering on her butt. ‘Nah, she was just being friendly.’
‘She wasn’t as friendly to me,’ Luke said.
‘You speak any French?’ his brother countered.
‘Not a lot,’ he had to concede.
‘Then there’s your answer, French women prefer to converse in their native tongue. Go figure,’ his brother replied.
They both knew that wasn’t the reason for the girl’s attentiveness, but Luke had to admit that was one of Jack’s few endearing features. He loved women, but he never took for granted all the attention he’d been receiving from the opposite sex since hitting puberty.
Unlike you.
Luke dispelled the unpleasant thought. And the memory of Ruby’s devastated face on their last morning together when she’d told him she loved him. And he’d had no reply.
Not your responsibility. She told you so.
‘So, what you doing in Paris?’ Luke asked.
‘Looking for a job,’ his brother replied as he popped an olive in his mouth from the dish the bargirl had brought to their table.
‘Do you need any money?’ Luke asked, out of habit as much as anything else. ‘Or a place to stay? I’ve got a company apartment a couple of blocks from here?’
Jack’s smile became rueful. ‘Nope. I’m good.’
He bristled at the easy refusal. He had no idea how his brother survived. As far as Luke knew, Jack hadn’t had a steady job since he’d dropped out of art college age eighteen. He didn’t own any property or have any possessions other than what he could fit on the back of his bike. But he hadn’t asked Luke for money for years now. So whatever he was doing, it must be working for him.
‘Still no plans to settle down and live a normal life?’ he asked, not quite able to stop himself from needling Jack anyway.
His brother just grinned some more, then thanked the bartender for his beer.
‘Nuh-uh,’ he said, after the girl had left. He took a long gulp of the cold beer, then smacked his lips, still smiling. ‘I left that to you, remember?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Luke snapped.
How the hell did his brother do that, look super smug and super could-not-give-a-shit at the same time? It was a gift his brother had possessed which reeled in women by the dozen and allowed him to be rootless and without a care in the world. And while he had always tried to take Jack’s attitude problem in stride when they met up, today it was bugging him. Big time.
‘You did the settling down thing so well, bro, I’d feel kind of outclassed before I even started. And I’m just not the competitive type.’
‘You mean you’re not the mature type,’ Luke countered, knowing he was going to lose this argument, but unable to let it drop.
‘That too.’ Jack took another sip as if he’d just been complimented not insulted. Another of Jack’s irritating life skills: to piss on criticism with charm and bonhomie. ‘So enough about me,’ Jack said easily, because he was well used to deflecting Luke’s attempts to get him to grow up. He dumped the bottle back on the table and stabbed another olive with a cocktail stick. ‘How’s tricks in the world of property development and gazillionaire-domination?’ he said before eating the olive.
Luke gave a strained laugh. The distraction this meet-up had offered yesterday wasn’t looking so good anymore.
He usually enjoyed hanging out with Jack. Jack was the original good-time guy, who could make any problem seem small and unimportant. But all he felt was irritable and out of sorts. And Jack seemed to have picked up on it.
Terrific.
‘Great, I guess,’ Luke said. ‘I’m seeing a couple of sites in France, thinking of investing in a new project in Lille to make this trip worthwhile. Then I’m heading home in a couple of days.’ Even if home didn’t feel like home, anymore.
‘So the stories aren’t true,’ Jack said. ‘I figured they had to be BS.’
‘What stories?’
‘That you were moving to London full time to run a movie theatre with some British chick.’
‘Who told you that?’ Luke’s insides churned, and the vice around his ribs which had been there for days – ever since he’d walked away from Ruby – tightened.
‘Mom by way of Becca. For the record, kid sis didn’t believe it either.’ Jack’s gaze narrowed.
‘Is that why you got in touch?’ Luke said, annoyed all over again. What the fuck? Why couldn’t his family butt the hell out of his business? He’d come to Paris to get away from thoughts of Ruby and now he was having to talk about her with his kid brother, who had never even met her.
‘Maybe,’ Jack said, still nonchalant and unconcerned. ‘Okay, now I’m confused, because you’re blushing.’
Luke could feel his face glowing under Jack’s stare. ‘I’m not blushing.’
‘Yeah, you are, bro. Then it’s true?’
‘No, it’s not true. I got served with community service over there so I had to …’
‘Whoa.’ Jack spurted out the mouthful of beer he’d just necked. ‘You? You got served by a judge? You have got to be shitting me,’ he said, looking more animated than Luke had seen him in years. Probably ever. ‘What the hell did you do? Lecture someone to death?’
‘Is it really that hard to believe I’d break a law?’ Luke asked, indignant now as well as annoyed. Was he really that much of a stuffed shirt?
‘Hell, yeah. Luke, you’re the dude who came out in a rash when I dissed the on-set tutor. What law did you break? ’Cos this I’ve gotta hear.’
‘Trespassing in a Royal Park.’ He decided to leave out the part about disturbing the peace, because that would require him mentioning singing with Ruby. And he was not going there. Jack would probably choke. And he wasn’t sure his ribs would survive the recollection of Ruby standing on the jetty, her sweet soulful voice drifting into the night as she scattered his uncle’s ashes.
‘No shit,’ Jack said, sounding genuinely impressed with Luke for the first time in his life. ‘They have laws about that stuff in London?’
‘They have laws about that stuff everywhere Jack. Just because you chose to ignore them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there …’ He trailed off, because railing on Jack just didn’t seem worth it anymore.
‘And you broke them.’ Jack let out a laugh. ‘Awesome. So what does you breaking into a Royal Park have to do with the British chick and the movie theatre?’ Jack added, getting straight to the point.
‘I was required to do community service at the theatre. Three hundred hours. So I decided to take a break from Mom and relocate to London for six weeks to get it done. The Royale used to belong to our Uncle Matty. He left me half of it in his will. And the other half to a British chick whose name is Ruby. Ruby Graham …’ He paused. Why was it so damn hard to say her name? Would it always be this hard? ‘Anyway, the theatre needed a lot of work. It was kind of run down.’
‘Hold up. Uncle Matty? You mean Mom’s long-lost brother she doesn’t speak to? He died?’
‘Yes, he died Jack, months ago. How do you not know this?’ Exactly how clueless was his brother about family affairs? And why did Jack’s cavalier approach to life seem even less charming all of a sudden?
‘I guess Mom must have mentioned it in one of her texts,’ Jack said, still clueless.
‘Ya think?’ Luke said, his tone cutting.
‘Damn, now I feel bad for never reading her texts,’ he said, not sounding that cut up about his complete inability to pay attention. ‘But those things are like novels,’ he added, as if that was an excuse. Jack really was a self-centred asshole – why had he never noticed that before? ‘But anyway, so you own half the theatre now? And the British chick owns the other half.’
‘The British chick has a name. It’s Ruby.’
‘Is Ruby hot?’
It was Luke’s turn to choke on his beer. He slapped the glass down on the table. ‘That’s a dumb sexist question.’
‘Uh-huh? You’re blushing again. So I’m going to take that as a yes.’ Jack’s gaze narrowed and Luke’s non-blush ignited. ‘Damn, you hooked up with her, didn’t you?’
He could have lied, he wanted to lie. Whatever he’d had with Ruby was over.
I love you, Luke.
The simple words echoed in his head again. Crushing his ribcage a little bit more.
Totally over.
Talking about the affair with Jack was not going to change that. But somehow the denial wouldn’t come out of his mouth. So he sat dumbly in front of Jack as his face incinerated.
‘Yeah, we hooked up. But it wasn’t a big deal …’ The words clogged his throat. ‘And the theatre is being sold to pay off Uncle Matty’s debts, so we don’t own it anymore.’
Being sold off in approximately twenty hours’ time, if the timetable Jacie had given him a week ago was still true.
Get over it. She didn’t want your help. She said so. You don’t love her. End of.
‘You were into her, weren’t you?’ Jack said, the non sequitur throwing Luke off course.
‘Yeah.’ Why lie about it? ‘She was a nice lady. Smart, compassionate, creative, funny …’ He took a swallow of beer – why did that description sound so inadequate. ‘And yeah, she was hot.’ So hot. Hot enough to haunt his dreams every night since he’d left her.
‘That sounds like a heck of a lot more than nice.’
Luke glared at his brother. So now Jack was intuitive? Give me damn break. ‘It doesn’t really matter whether or not she was nice or more than nice because it’s over.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it is – because it was – just a casual hook-up.’
For me, at least. I never lied to her.
‘It doesn’t sound casual to me,’ Jack said. ‘The woman made you blush, that’s got to be a first.’
‘Whatever, it was never gonna work long term.’ He took another long swallow of his beer, his throat so dry he could probably sandpaper a wall with it.
‘Why not?’ Jack asked.
Luke intensified his glare. Why wouldn’t Jack drop this? Couldn’t he see he did not want to talk about it? ‘Because she’s a nice person and I’m not.’
‘Bullshit.’ Jack’s forceful reply gave Luke pause. His brother wasn’t smiling anymore.
‘She needs someone who can settle down,’ he replied. ‘Who wants to settle down. Who can commit to a long-term relationship. Who wants to commit to a long-term relationship. That’s not me, I’m not the settling down type.’
Ruby had got that much at least. She would never even have told him she loved him if he hadn’t made the dumb decision to go back for Babs and Bob night.
‘Are you actually serious right now?’ Jack replied.
‘Of course I’m serious,’ Luke said, shocked by the look on Jack’s face, because all traces of his usual super-relaxed, couldn’t-give-a-shit charm had disappeared.
‘Luke, you’re the most settled person I know,’ his brother said, sounding more serious than a traffic accident for the first time in his life. ‘You live for fucking commitment. Or you wouldn’t have been riding herd on me and Becca ever since we were born … And Mom ever since you were born.’
‘That’s not the same. You guys are family, I’m stuck with you.’
‘You mean like your old man was stuck with us. Like mine was? Like Becca’s father was?’ Jack’s voice had an edge to it Luke had never heard before. This wasn’t the Jack he knew, not at all. This Jack sounded angry. And also weirdly supportive.
‘What are you trying to say?’ he said, feeling like he was seeing the real Jack for the first time in his life. Where had this guy been hiding? And why?
‘They all bailed on us, in their own way,’ Jack said, his expression tense. ‘The men who should have cared about us and kept us safe and put us first. But you never did. Not even when you could have. Even when it was never your responsibility. You shouldered it anyway. Getting me to do my homework and not hang out with the wrong kids, getting Becca to brush her teeth each night and letting her cling on to you when she came back from her dad’s place, and keeping Mom afloat when she had one of her wild moods.’
‘You were just a kid, you needed someone to guide you and we all knew that wasn’t gonna be Mom,’ he said. ‘Becca’s dad was an alcoholic and a massive dick, she should never have had to spend summers with him in the first place. And Mom had issues, you know that,’ he said, in his defence, disconcerted to hear Jack of all people talk about him in this way. Jack has always hated it when Luke told him what to do, or how to do it. His kid brother had rebelled against every rule, every suggestion, every offer of help. Had he admired him all along? Because that was so messed up he didn’t even know what to do with it. It would change the whole dynamic of their sibling relationship and he wasn’t ready to deal with that right now.
Not after Ruby.
‘You were a kid too, Luke. You’re only three years older than I am,’ Jack said, finally winding down. ‘And Mom’s issues weren’t your problem, but you took them on. So don’t tell me you’re not the settling down type. You are. You always have been. And you want to know why?’
Luke just stared, not sure if he did or didn’t want the answer. Getting relationship advice from his kid brother had to be a low point in his life. The fact the advice was actually making some sense made it even lower.
‘Tough shit, because I’m gonna tell you anyway,’ Jack said, taking the choice away from him. ‘You’re the settling down type not because you had to be, but because you’re good at it. And you like it, or you wouldn’t have spent the last ten years making a killing building other people homes. You say this Ruby chick is smart and creative and compassionate and funny? Well, you’re all those things too.’ Jack gave him a deliberate once over. ‘I don’t find you hot, but I guess it’s not outside the realms of possibility she might think you are. Women can be screwy like that or they wouldn’t get crushes on douchebags like Ross Barlett.’
‘Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore because it’s over,’ he said, suddenly feeling defeated. ‘I left and Ruby decided to sell the theatre rather than take my money to save it, so I think we can safely say she was not that into me.’
It was a lie, because Ruby had been pretty into him. But her being in love with him didn’t change anything. Not if he couldn’t love her back. Ruby got that, and she was a hopeless romantic, so it was a lie he could live with.
‘You offered her money to save the theatre?’ Jack asked.
‘That’s what I just said isn’t it?’
‘I guess you can add pride to your list of her good qualities then. And self-respect.’
‘What?’
‘Come on, Luke, would you have taken your money? To save something that means so much to you?’
‘I wouldn’t have said no. That’s just dumb. She’s gotta close the theatre now and sell it, just because she didn’t want my help.’
‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘How could she accept your money if she loved you?’
‘How did you know that?’ Luke blurted out, so shocked Jack had figured it out he felt like he’d just leapt into a parallel universe.
‘She told you she loved you, then,’ Jack said, but it wasn’t really a question, as his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line, and Luke said nothing.
‘And I’m guessing you didn’t say the same to her,’ his brother said, reading his mind again.
‘No,’ Luke managed at last.
Jack took a long draft of his beer. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t love her, obviously,’ Luke snapped.
‘You sure about that?’ Jack said, only pissing him off more.
‘Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure? I’d know if I was in love or not, wouldn’t I?’ Luke said.
Why was he having to argue with his brother about this? And why was having to think about what he had, or rather hadn’t, said to Ruby, turning the weight in his gut into a super nova?
‘Would you? Because you’ve always been real good at avoiding those conversations.’
‘What conversations?’
‘The ones where people talk about their feelings.’
‘Uh-huh. Since when do you like talking about feelings?’ he asked. Getting relationship advice from Jack was bad enough, being told he should talk about his feelings was just plain wrong. If there was ever a guy who didn’t talk about his feelings it was Jack. Except now, for some whacked out reason he couldn’t figure.
‘Since never,’ Jack conceded. ‘But we’re not talking about me. This is about you and Ruby Graham, who is smart and funny and compassionate and super-hot and loves you. And who you’ve talked about more than I’ve ever heard you talk about any woman you’ve ever dated. Even that super model you were hooking up with on a regular basis for two years.’
‘Fuck …’ The beer started to bubble in his belly, his throat felt raw and achy and he wasn’t going down with anything.
Was Jack right? Why hadn’t he even been able to have the conversation with Ruby? Why had he let her tell him he didn’t love her. He cared about her, but what if this was more than that, and he hadn’t even asked himself how much more? Had he blown it? How did he really feel about her? Did he want to go back to London? To figure it out?
Yes, I damn well do.
And how could he let her lose The Royale when the reason she was selling the place was nothing to do with the theatre, but simply because she didn’t want to leave him beholden to her?
‘Fuck and double fuck. She’s selling the place. Signing the papers tomorrow morning, the final screening is tonight.’ He leapt out of his chair and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, then checked his watch. ‘I’ve got to get back to London, talk to Mom, and then get to The Royale before the final screening finishes.’
‘Hey, what about our bar crawl through Paris?’ Jack asked, but he was grinning.
‘We’ll have to take a rain check.’ Leaning over the table he grabbed Jack by the cheeks and planted a smacker on his brother’s lips. ‘Thanks, bro. For once, I think you actually might be talking sense.’
Jack laughed as he scrubbed his lips with the back of his hand. ‘I always talk sense – you just don’t listen.’
Luke whipped his jacket off the back of his chair.
‘What’s the final show?’ Jack asked.
‘Last of the Mohicans,’ he murmured, as he clicked through the apps on his phone to book a ticket on the next Eurostar train. ‘It’s the last film in the Matty’s Classics season, apparently it was one of our uncle’s favourite movies.’
‘Sounds like the guy had great taste,’ Jack said. ‘I loved that movie as a kid. All the running and shooting and shit – although it’s kind of a downer, doesn’t everyone end up dead?’
‘Not everyone …’ He clicked the pay now button, then tucked the phone back into his jacket pocket. ‘Not this time. I’ll see you around Jack, keep in touch.’
Jack saluted him as he turned to dash off, then shouted. ‘Go for it Hawkeye, go save your girl, before she saves herself.’
***
‘Hi, I’m trying to locate Helena Devlin’s dressing room.’ Four hours later, Luke stopped a young man laden with an armful of evening gowns in dry-cleaner bags in the busy backstage area behind the Cottosloe’s stage.
The guy stopped, then did a double-take.
‘I’m her son,’ Luke added, although from the young man’s heightened colour he suspected the information was unnecessary.
‘Oh my, yes you are,’ the dresser said with a purr that could mean only one thing. He was a Falcone nut. ‘Wow, you really are the spit of him, aren’t you?’
For once, Luke didn’t find the provocative stare or the unfiltered comments uncomfortable. He’d figure out why that was later, much later. He had to talk to his mom about saving The Royale before he saw Ruby. And while that should be fairly straightforward, getting his mother to cooperate was never a walk in the park.
‘I can’t imagine why Hell on Wheels ever tried to deny it,’ the guy said.
Hell on Wheels? Was that what the backstage crew called his mom?
Luke would have laughed, if his guts weren’t tied in knots.
‘Me, either,’ Luke said.
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, it occurred to him, it was the first time he’d ever acknowledged his relation to Falcone to someone he wasn’t closely related to … or Ruby. He tensed, bracing for a backlash. But the guy just grinned, as if they were sharing a particularly naughty joke.
Hell, maybe they were. Why had he always been so scared to talk about his father? His mom had always refused to talk about Falcone to the press when he was a kid, and now he knew the reason why was much more complex than he’d ever thought. She hadn’t done it to be coy, or stoke the gossip, but because she’d always been conflicted, maybe even ashamed, about having a child with the man her brother had loved. But he could have owned the truth about his parentage himself as an adult. And he never had.
‘Mind you, Helena is nothing if not capricious, right?’ the young man said, sending Luke a conspiratorial wink. Juggling the garments in his arms, he pointed towards a hallway at the back of the stage area. ‘Her dressing room is that way. You can’t miss it. It’s got a star on the door the size of a small planet.’ Giving Luke a wave he rushed off in the opposite direction.
Luke headed towards the dressing room feeling weirdly deflated by the encounter.
Jesus, he’d been kind of a jerk about his old man. And the Falcone nuts.
What was so terrible about being Falcone’s son? And dealing with his battalion of fans? After all, Ruby had been one of them. If it weren’t for this face – his father’s face – she might never have wanted him. So when he thought about it that way, he had quite a lot to thank the guy for.
He reached a door at the end of a corridor with a large gold star on it. Scribbled underneath on a chalk board in his mother’s handwriting were the words:
Helena Devlin aka Hell on Wheels.
Do Not Disturb unless you’re bearing gifts or uncritical adoration. Preferably both.
Both was underlined twice.
So his mom had embraced her nickname – possibly even coined it.
He tapped his knuckles above the star, oddly charmed by the sign. How come he had never realized his mom had a sense of humour about her diva-ishness?
Perhaps because he’d never had a sense of humour about it himself.
‘Danny, if that’s you run away and get us both a quick curtain-up mimosa, I’m gasping, sweetheart. And beg Megan for a new pair of stockings but don’t tell her I’ve laddered another pair though or she’ll probably chop my legs off.’
His mother’s voice rang through the door, rich and fluid, professional and yet full of affection. He’d always known she loved the sound of her own voice – funny that he’d never realized he liked the sound of it quite a lot, too.
He opened the door to find her sitting at a dressing table laden with powders and perfumes and a host of other potions, the traditional light bulbs surrounded the mirror’s frame. The room was small for a diva, crammed with rails full of clothing, a day bed, a spray of potted plants and flowers and a huge basket of cellophane wrapped fruit. It looked like a thousand other dressing rooms he’d visited her in over the years.
But for the first time, instead of feeling tense and on edge, the knots of stress in his stomach relaxed.
She glanced round, her hair tied back in a wig net, her face covered in the sculptured foundation she used to make her look a least ten years younger than she actually was.
‘Luke? You came to see the show again, how marvellous.’
She bounced off the chair and crossed the room to give him a hug.
She enveloped him with her signature perfume and he took a deep breath in, for once appreciating the exotic scent of wild flowers and patchouli.
‘Hi, Mom,’ he said, having to clear his throat as she held him.
She stepped back, holding his shoulders, and smiled a guileless smile of pure pleasure, that wasn’t faked. ‘I’m so pleased you’re here,’ she said, the genuine affection in her voice tearing at something inside him.
He swallowed.
Jesus, why was he suddenly choking up?
‘I can’t stay for the show, I came because I need your help with something.’
‘You do?’ She seemed astonished. And it occurred to him he’d probably never said those words to her before. She’d asked for his help a million times, but when had he ever straight out asked for hers? He guessed that was pretty messed up, considering who the parent was here.
‘Yeah, I do,’ he said, trying not to dwell on the novelty of the situation.
‘Tell me what you need me to do?’ she said, without even blinking.
Taken aback by the eager, unequivocal response, he forced himself not to dwell on that either.
‘I want you to buy my share of The Royale. Ruby’s gonna have to sell the theatre to pay the debts – and she won’t take my money – but if you’ll agree to buy it, I could give you a loan. No interest, no need to repay it.’ It was the only solution he could come up with, that would save The Royale and give him a chance to figure things out with Ruby at the same time.
His mother’s eyes took on a curious gleam.
‘That sounds a bit sneaky,’ she said. ‘If you’re loaning me the money to pay for your share and I don’t have to pay it back, how is it even mine?’
‘Mom, could you just not argue about—’
‘Why won’t she accept your money?’ she interrupted him.
‘Because she’s got some dumb idea into her head that it would be going against Matty’s dying wish.’ Which wasn’t completely a lie. Maybe this situation was more about them than Matty, but his mom did not need to know that. ‘But I figured if you offered to become The Royale’s patron, it’s benefactor, she’d accept that.’ He sunk his hands into his pockets, feeling exposed under his mother’s inquisitive gaze, but determined to make this happen. It would work, it was a great plan. He couldn’t work things out with Ruby if she lost The Royale because of him.
‘You want me to lie to Ruby about your involvement?’ his mother said. ‘You want me to trick her into defying Matty’s dying wish?’
‘What? No, dammit, that’s not it at all.’
Why was he not surprised his mom was going to make this perfectly simple plan complicated?
‘That wasn’t Matty’s dying wish,’ he said.
Just this once. Please don’t let her flake out on me.
‘Ruby’s misunderstood it,’ he continued. Shit, he had to make this happen. And to do that he had to get his mom on board. ‘He left me half The Royale because he wanted me to help her out. And now she won’t let me. But if you help me I can still save the movie theatre for her— For Matty,’ he corrected himself.
Too late.
His mother’s eyes took on a speculative gleam. She’d figured out the truth. About him and Ruby.
She took his elbow, led him to the day bed. ‘I think you better sit down, Luke, and explain everything.’
He perched on the edge of the mattress. He was shaking, he realized, as she sat beside him on the bed and touched his knee. ‘It’s okay, Luke. Everything will be okay.’
The softly spoken words propelled him back in time. To another day.
The smell of perfume and hydrangeas was replaced with the hideous scent of death. Cloying, vulgar, suffocating.
He stared at her fingers on his knee, the heavy rings she wore, the skin still smooth in her fifties but speckled now with sun blemishes, and remembered her sitting beside him that day too, sixteen years ago, in his father’s open-plan living room in Montecito. The patrolman’s questions that he couldn’t answer. The panic tightening around his throat, threatening to choke him. And her voice, like now. Rich, resonant, reassuring, answering the questions for him and dragging him back from the edge.
Funny he’d never remembered that until now.
She had been there beside him through the very worst of that day. She’d arrived like the cavalry, before the cops and the EMTs, minutes after he’d called her to tell her what he’d found.
He shoved the memories back, made himself breathe. In One-two-three. Out one-two-three.
For fuck’s sake, Devlin. Don’t start reminiscing about the worst day of your life. You don’t have time.
He took the breaths he needed to stave off the panic attack. His palms remained clammy, the tension and stress still there punching a hole in his ribcage.
But all he could really feel now was the fear.
That he could never deserve Ruby if he couldn’t give her The Royale.
‘Tell me about Ruby?’ his mother said gently.
He glanced at his mother’s face. He didn’t want to talk about Ruby.
‘There’s not much to tell,’ he murmured, evasively.
‘Are you sure?’ she said, not buying the denial. ‘It seems to me she matters to you quite a lot. Or why would you be so determined to save her cinema?’
She had him there.
If he wanted her help he was going to have to break one of his golden rules – and talk to her about his love life. Great.
He rocked back, the knots in his gut tightening, then stood and paced over to the chair she’d been seated in, buying time, trying to figure out what to say without encouraging too much intrusion. He wasn’t sure there was a way to do that anymore. And maybe talking to her would help. He’d never asked for her advice, but she was the queen of surviving messed up relationships.
‘She’s nothing like any of the other women I’ve ever dated,’ he said, sitting down in the chair his mother had vacated. ‘She’s smart and sweet and so hot it hurts.’ He cringed inwardly. Jesus, he was losing it, had he just told his mom his lover was …
‘How long have you been dating?’ his mother asked.
‘For three weeks.’ Did it even qualify as dating? ‘We broke up nearly a week ago.’
‘And you want her back,’ his mother said. ‘And that’s why you think you have to save The Royale?’
‘Yes … No,’ he said, he tugged his fingers through his hair, feeling like a total dumbass. ‘I don’t know.’
Jesus, could he sound any more clueless about his own life? How could he not know if he loved her? His mom was going to have a field day with this.
He stole a look at her, expecting to see a gleam in her eye because she was finally going to get the ‘deep and meaningful’ conversation about his commitment issues she’d been wanting to have with him ever since he could remember – and which he’d been avoiding just as long – but instead of the gotcha expression, what he saw was something else.
She didn’t look happy or smug – she looked devastated.
And all he felt was more confused. How could every single thing he thought he knew about his relationship with Jack and now his mom be so screwed up all of a sudden?
‘Oh, Luke,’ she said, the pity in her tone scrambling his guts. ‘I’m so sorry I failed you so spectacularly.’
He blinked. And for once he had not one clue what to say to her, or how to avoid this conversation, or even if he wanted to anymore.
‘Mom, I never said you failed me—’
‘But I did, because you wanted stability,’ she said. ‘And I didn’t give it to you. And for once I’m not being melodramatic. I knew how anxious you always got, even before …’ She stopped. ‘Even before what happened with your father.’
He searched his mother’s face. And realized she was serious. This wasn’t her ‘serious moment’ face, the one she wore when she was playing Anna Karenina.
And suddenly, he wanted to know, seeing as they were definitely having this conversation now, something that had always bugged him.
‘Then why did you keep us, Mom? Why did drag us all over creation with you? Jack could have stayed with his dad, so could I. I liked Bill, we got along, he was a steady, dependable guy.’ Unlike Falcone.
‘I kept you with me, because I loved you to bits. Both of you. And Rebecca when she came along. You were my babies. And I was selfish. But it hurts now to know you were so scared of stuff I never even thought about.’
She sucked in a heavy breath.
‘Love is a wonderful gift, Luke,’ she said. ‘Mostly because it’s never ever what you expect it to be. Sometimes it’s fleeting, sometimes it lasts, sometimes it can’t. But each time you unwrap it, it’s entirely unique. Ruby wants to give you that gift, and it breaks my heart to know that something I did – and all the things I didn’t do – makes you think you have to save Ruby’s theatre to deserve it.’
He frowned. He wanted to be angry with her, wanted to dismiss her little speech as his mom at her cheesy, melodramatic best. But he couldn’t say anything, because all he felt was numb.
‘You were forced to be old before your time Luke, long before you discovered Rafe’s body.’
He didn’t feel numb anymore, he felt fragile. And still so confused.
‘You had to keep everything in order to cope with all the disorder I threw at you. But now you have to let go of that and let the chaos in a little bit. I promise it won’t hurt you again. Not this time. Not if she really loves you. Do you think she does?’
He nodded, feeling choked, but weirdly not caring. Ruby did love him, that wasn’t in any doubt. Because Ruby knew what she wanted and what she needed. And she wasn’t afraid to say it. Unlike him.
But it hurt, he discovered, to know his mother understood. May have always understood.
Had he really let all this stuff from his childhood have such a hold over him that he couldn’t see what was right before his eyes?
‘Are you saying you think I’m a control freak?’ he asked.
His mother smiled, moisture making her eyes sparkle. Either she was giving the performance of her career, or she was on the verge of tears. And for once he could see it was definitely the latter.
‘Maybe a little bit,’ she said on a huff of breath. ‘But thank god for it, or I’m not sure Jack and Rebecca would ever have kept all of their teeth, let alone learned how to function in the adult world.’
‘I’m not sure Jack does, actually.’
They both laughed, the dry ripple of amusement easing the tension in the room.
Reaching over, his mother took his hands in hers and smoothed her thumbs over the skin, stroking his wrists, and the pulse which had started to beat double time.
Suddenly, he felt like crying, too. For a guy who was not emotional and tended to shun any kind of melodrama, it was not a good feeling. Especially in the presence of his mom, who would never let him forget it.
‘Would you do me one favour Luke?’
‘I guess, as long as it isn’t illegal,’ he said.
She laughed again, the sound bright and full-bodied, suddenly reminding him of all the times during his childhood when she’d been the one to make it better.
How had he managed to forget that, too?
For all of her irresponsibility and her selfishness, his mother, like Ruby, was an irrepressible optimist. She was always willing to see the good, the bright, the best in any disastrous situation.
The fact that Helena Devlin had been the cause of most of those disasters didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.
‘Don’t nit-pick and over-analyse this situation,’ she said. ‘Just tell her how you feel and take your chances. You’re actually quite a catch, you know. Ruby has already figured that out, now all you have to do is figure it out, too.’
‘Five minutes to curtain, Ms Devlin.’ The loud rap on the door and the shout from the stage manager startled them both.
His mother smiled and shook her head, then released his hands.
He missed the connection instantly.
‘Now scoot,’ she said, as she nudged him out of her chair. She sat down and lifted a powder puff to finish off her make-up.
He planted his hands back into his pockets. ‘So you won’t front the deal to save The Royale?’ he asked, remembering why he’d come.
She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Of course not, darling. That would be dishonest,’ she said. ‘And anyway, it’s not the theatre Ruby needs, now is it?’
He wanted to say more, to push her, to beg if necessary. Still not entirely convinced he could be enough, not without The Royale. But he could see from the stubborn tilt of her chin she wasn’t going to budge on this. And he’d been trained never to distract her when she had only minutes until curtain-up.
He headed towards the door. ‘Break a leg, Mom, I’ll see you around.’
His mother lifted her hand in a dismissive wave, but as he shut the door, he heard her murmur: ‘Listen to your heart, Luke. Everything else is white noise.’