On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [118]
Devon could barely force a nod, but Lilah pressed a hand to Paolo’s arm and said, “Thanks. It’s going to be okay, Paolo. We’ll find him.”
Even in the midst of the worst day of his life, Devon heard that. “We,” united. The two of them against the world, neither one alone anymore.
It actually accomplished the impossible; it made the unbearable ache of the last few hours slightly more tolerable.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“If we were down South, where I grew up, we’d be swimming in casseroles right about now.”
They’d finally gotten the terrifying news that Heather Sorensen was, indeed, missing from the Sunny Valley Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center. It took about an hour of concerted effort, but Lilah had at last gotten Devon to stop pacing, stop calling his brother every few minutes, and stretch out on the leather couch with his head in her lap.
She tried to soothe the lines of tension from his face, but no amount of petting was going to relax him. She knew that. Nothing but the sight of Tucker all in one piece was going to make either of them feel better. And as much as Devon burned to be out there scouring the city for any trace of his ex, Connor was very clear about the fact that the best thing they could do would be to sit tight.
So Lilah talked. To distract him, and herself, from the grinding misery of waiting for news.
“That’s the Southerner’s answer to any calamity,” she continued. “Casserole. Preferably the kind that freezes beautifully and can be reheated later when the afflicted family gets around to it.”
“Yeah. That doesn’t really happen in New York.”
“Have you even met your neighbors?”
“Only passed them in the elevator, the mail room. You know.”
Lilah didn’t know; it sounded insane to her, not knowing your neighbors’ names, or where their kids went to school, or anything. But she made a noncommittal sound and kept stroking Devon’s hair.
They were silent for long moments where, Lilah was sure, Devon’s thoughts drifted to Tucker just as inevitably as hers did.
He proved it a minute later by saying, “I’m so fucking scared right now, Lilah Jane.”
“I know. Me, too.” She swallowed hard. “You know, I was coming back. I was halfway out the door when Grant called. For Tucker, because I didn’t want him to think I didn’t care enough about him to stick it out.”
Devon closed his eyes. “I didn’t know it was possible to care this much about another person.”
“Then why weren’t you prepared to fight to keep him with you? How could you even contemplate letting him walk out of your life when this is what it feels like?” She wanted so badly to understand.
“I do want him here,” Devon said, his voice fierce with longing. “Not just so I know he’s safe and not off somewhere getting in a car with his drunk-ass mother—” he choked and stopped talking for a second.
Lilah tangled her fingers in his hair and held on tight, working to regulate her breathing.
When he found his voice again, it was halting and rough, as if every word were difficult to form. “But before—God, was it only yesterday?—before, when we had that fight, I thought . . . I don’t know. That letting you both go would be the right thing. Because Tucker deserves better than me. You both do. There’s something wrong with me, Lilah. I mean, my parents were wonderful with Connor; they just didn’t know what to do with me. I’m not like them. Never was.”
“What are you like, then?” Lilah kept her voice soft, kept her hands moving. They were approaching the heart of Devon’s swirling pool of strange self-hatred. What would she find there?
“I’m . . . driven, I guess. To succeed. You know, I didn’t get into the restaurant business because I was so great at it—I chose it because I was good enough at it that I knew I could make money, enough to get out of New Jersey. That’s all I wanted.”
Such an innocent, childish wish, to be rich and famous. Was it still all he wanted?
“And once you made it to New York, once you landed four stars from The New York Times and