Page 38 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

RHYS

R unning had become my vice these last six months. Life hadn’t been kind. But running was something I could control. And control was a positive thing for me these days.

Clay, my ex-assistant and now partner, jogged alongside me. His pants swished, his arms pumped, and his breathing was ragged, but he was improving with every run we took.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Clay asked.

He meant Vanny.

I shook my head and spoke between breaths. “No. She won’t talk to me. It’s been six months. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, man. I know how much you cared about her.”

Cared about her? Fuck. I more than cared about her. I loved her. And I hadn’t truly realized it until that night at her reunion when she’d walked away from me and nothing I said could make her stop.

Chris didn’t talk to me for a while after that night, either. He kept his distance. He was pissed. And I understood where he was coming from. But he didn’t have the whole story. After a lot of pushing, I finally managed to get him to come over.

Well, not just pushing.

My dad’s death played a factor in my oldest friend coming around again. He was there for the funeral. He helped me make arrangements. And he was there for the nights where I got blackout drunk to cope with all the guilt and the memories I could never fix or forget.

For all the things I never said to him and the things I did say. Both were equally bad.

Chris had tried to convince Vanny to talk to me, but she’d never been one to do what she was told, especially not when it was her big brother doing the telling. He told her I’d been jumped and that my late arrival had been out of my control. It didn’t sway her. She was done with me. Done with us.

Not that there ever had been an ‘us’ to begin with. Just a charade of what could have been.

There was a lot of regret tied up in my father’s passing. My mother hadn’t taken it well, either. She was back in rehab. It was just me and Gigi living at the house. It wasn’t such a bad deal. At least Gigi was stable and sane and a happy presence in the house.

She also made killer pancakes on Sunday mornings.

“At least you have your business to focus on.” Clay’s breathing was getting even more ragged. We were closing in on the tail end of our final mile. We just had to push a little harder.

“True.”

I’d been slammed with work. Launching the new chai moonshine had been an even more successful release than I expected.

I hated that a lot of the profit was pity money.

The public was very aware of the passing of my father.

His funeral had been photographed and slapped on magazines, for crying out loud, and I’d been asked about him in seventy-five percent of all the press conferences I did for the launch as well as some of the interviews I did for media outlets.

To call it frustrating was downplaying it.

I did not care to be reminded of my father’s passing around every corner. But I couldn’t escape it. He was everywhere.

We finished our final mile and slowed to a light jog and then eventually to a walk. My muscles ached, and my lungs screamed, but my body felt good. Strong. Stronger than my heart and mind, at least.

“I’m heading straight to the office. I’ll shower there. You coming with?”

I shook my head. “No. I have to stop by the house and check in on Gigi. Her arthritis is flaring up these days with all the rain we’ve been getting, so I want to make sure she’s comfortable. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Don’t forget we have that meeting at—”

“At two. I know. I’ll be there.”

We parted ways. I made for home and Clay headed to the office.

I drove through the city and away from all the hustle and bustle to the road the estate was on.

It used to be my father’s home, but it was mine now even though initially I hadn’t wanted it, the estate held no happy memories for me, but it was more of a home than any other place I’d lived, and it was Gigi’s home.

So, begrudgingly, I’d sold my penthouse and moved back to the place I never thought I’d come back to.

In the months leading up to his passing, my father and I had talked through some things.

We hadn’t bonded as some people suggested we might when confronting our own mortality, but we had forgiven each other, and that was more than I could ask for.

Gigi had been right.

Had my father passed without us having had those important conversations, I would have been angry for a very long time.

As it was, I was still angry. I was angry that my mother was sick and there was nothing I could do to help her, other than see her in and out of rehab until it finally stuck.

And I could pray that eventually, it would.

I was angry that Gigi was hurting and that she was burdened with taking care of my mother because of her disease.

I was angry that my father died and that chapter of my life was closed forever.

There was nothing in my past with my father I could ever change or redeem.

It was done. And lastly, I was angry that I’d lost the only woman I’d ever truly loved.

I dreamed of Vanessa every night. I thought I saw her everywhere I went. I couldn’t count how many strangers I’d tapped on the shoulder, hoping it would be her.

It never was.

When I got home later that morning, I found Gigi in her favorite spot by the window in the living room. She had a blanket draped over her lap. There was a steaming mug of tea on the table at her side that smelled like blueberries and mint. She picked it up and sipped it as I walked into the room.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she said.

“I thought I’d come home and shower before I went to the office.”

“Oh? You’re sure it has nothing to do with checking in on your old grandmother?”

“Perhaps.”

She smiled. Her lips were thinner than I remembered.

And she had more wrinkles, too. I was sure of it.

“Rhys. Sweet boy. I may be old, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

” She lifted her mug of tea like it proved she was fit as a fiddle and physically able to do anything she set her mind to.

“I know you are. I just can’t help but worry.”

I couldn’t help it. I’d lost too much in the last six months not to worry about losing the one person who would never turn her back on me. I couldn’t bear the thought.

Gigi swirled her tea. “I listened to that radio show last night. Nessa Night. She’s quite good.”

My heart dropped at the sound of Vanny’s on-air name. “Yes. She is.”

“Why haven’t you called her?”

“She won’t take my calls. No matter what I do. She won’t even talk to me when I go to see her at her apartment. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. So I think I should respect that and leave well enough alone.”

“That’s horse shit and you know it.”

My eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“Rhys. Come now. You love this girl. You’ve been pining over her for half a year. And I find it very hard to believe she doesn’t miss you, too.”

“Then why won’t she take my calls?”

“She’s scared.” Gigi shrugged like this was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Your girl comes from a different world than you do. Change is scary. For some more than others. She ran at the first sight of trouble and she ran hard. But I don’t think you’ve lost her for good.

Not yet. I think you just need to get creative. ”

I waited for her to say more. She didn’t. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. “All right. I’m listening. What’s your bright idea?”

“Call her station.”

“No. It’s her work. I don’t want to—”

“Hush. Call her work. That’s how the two of you first started talking. It was easy. Effortless, even. Go back to that. To the basics. Give it one last shot and put it all out on the line and see what happens. If she still says no, then it’s time to wipe your hands of it and move on.”

It all sounded so much simpler than it was.

“How will I get her to pick up the phone?”

“Lie about who you are.”

“Gigi. That hardly sounds ethical.”

“So what? All is fair in love and war, isn’t it? Or has your generation shit all over that, too?”

A grin tugged at my lips.

Gigi smiled. “Go. Your old Gran is happy here with her book and her tea. I promise.”