Someone Like You Page 3

  Pierce flicked a glance at him, gave a curt nod, and stepped back. The old familiar anger coursed through him, hot and bubbling, but he swallowed it.

  “Fine.” Charles II eyed his three grown children circling him, barely reining in his irritation. “Let’s all go toast the happy couple and hear about how they cared so much about our family that they denied us the pleasure of seeing them get married.”

  “It’s not about you or us!” Pierce cried in disgust. “It’s his life!”

  “I can hear you all,” Dane said dryly from a few feet away, where he and Julia sat at the long glass table. “And so can my wife.” She stared off into the distance, not wanting to make eye contact with the squabbling relatives. “So why don’t you just stop and come sit down? I’m not letting anything bring us down tonight. Not even another skirmish in the ongoing Harrison Family Wars.”

  Tess went over to Dane and Julia, offering apologies, while Pierce and his father stared each other down.

  “Cut the shit, gentlemen,” Charles III murmured, stern and cool as he looked from one to the other from behind his black-rimmed glasses. “For Dane.”

  Charles II snorted again and lifted his glass to his lips, looking away as if Pierce were a piece of garbage.

  Fuck you, old man, Pierce thought. I made a good life for myself, in spite of you.

  One he’d created for himself, through dedication, hard work, determination, and natural ability. One he’d created with very little help, financial or emotional. Pierce had spent most of his youth fighting to prove he was worthy. Eventually, he stopped fighting and simply left. But even if he’d left England in a cloud of controversy, what the hell had he been thinking, coming back here?

  Pierce shot back the rest of his champagne in one long gulp, put the glass on the table, and looked over at his two nephews and his niece. Charles’s kids were all under nine years old, and looked surly and bored. “Any of you like soccer?”

  Ava and the older boy, Thomas, both looked up and nodded.

  “Find a ball. Let’s go kick it around,” Pierce said. “We’ll play a little while the grown-ups have their talk.”

  “I don’t think—” Charles III started to say.

  “There’s one in the playroom,” said the youngest, five-year-old Myles. He carelessly dropped his iPad mini onto the sofa and jumped up. “I’ll go get it!”

  Five minutes later, Pierce was out on the lawn, kicking a soccer ball around with the kids. It was the best thing for him to do just then, and he was grateful for it. Family powwows had never been his thing, much less sharing space with his father for more than five minutes.

  * * *

  Abby grabbed two spoons from the drawer, a few napkins off the counter, and went to join her sister in the living room. Flopping down on the couch beside her, Abby simply said, “Gimme.”

  Fiona handed her a pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream, then took a spoon from her and dug into her own pint of mint chocolate chip. “We’re such rock stars, aren’t we?”

  “Ohhh yeah,” Abby snorted. “Ten o’clock on a Saturday night, and here we are. Party animals, that’s us.”

  Their parents had gone upstairs to watch TV in their room until they fell asleep, and Dylan had passed out in his bed at nine. “What movie do you want to watch?” Fiona asked. “Did we decide?”

  “Need a comedy tonight,” Abby said after another spoonful. “Maybe The Heat? Definitely not a romance.”

  Fiona frowned at her younger sister. “Something happen?”

  “Allison and Jeff got engaged. Another one down.” She told Fiona the few details she’d learned from Facebook earlier that day.

  “You need to start dating again,” Fiona announced. “It’s time.”

  Abby shook her head. “Nah.”

  “Yes. Your one-year dating sabbatical is just about up, isn’t it?” Fiona pointed with her spoon for emphasis. “It’s time for you to get back out there.”

  “No interest,” Abby said.

  “That’s just because you haven’t met anyone. And how can you? You’re always hiding behind my kid.”

  Abby froze as indignation washed over her. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Fiona said, digging her spoon back into her ice cream. “I’m beyond grateful for everything you do to help me with Dylan. But . . .” She shoveled a spoonful of mint chocolate chip into her mouth.

  “Say it,” Abby ground out, glaring. “But what?”

  “But . . .” Fiona reached for a lock of her long, blond hair and twirled it around her finger. “I worry that you’re hiding here. Using watching Dylan as an excuse not to go out anymore.”

  “You’ve got some nerve.” Abby slammed her pint of ice cream down on the coffee table. “I moved back here, for you and for him. I’ve been trying to help you, Mom, and Dad—”

  “I know!” Fiona said quickly. “I know, Abs! Didn’t you hear me? I’m so grateful, so appreciative. But Abby . . .” The lock of hair she twirled would be knotted soon. “I know Ewan hurt you, but not all men are lying sacks of shit. Honey, you’re twenty-eight. You should be out, meeting new guys.”

  “Oh, like you are?” Abby countered.

  “Don’t turn this around on me,” Fiona said. “I was married to a lying sack, and he’s loooong gone. I’d love to meet someone new, someone decent. I haven’t been laid in how long?” She grinned wryly, making Abby roll her eyes. “But I work all the time. And I do that so that I can move out of here one day and not make Mom and Dad feel like they have to take care of Dyllie and me forever. I’m not single and free like you are. It’s very different: I have a kid. I’m a package deal now. You . . . you have freedom to do whatever you want.”

  “No I don’t,” Abby groused, ignoring the twist of sympathy in her heart for her sister. “You all need my help. That’s why I moved back home.”

  “That, and because Ewan broke your heart and sent you reeling. You’ve been hiding while you heal. That’s normal.” Fiona shrugged and took another spoonful. “You were right to not want to date for a year, to get your head back together. I agreed with you a hundred percent. But that year’s just about over, and it’s time for you to—”

  “I’m putting my ice cream away, then starting the movie,” Abby huffed, her face heating as she stood. She stomped away into the kitchen, tossing her spoon into the sink with a loud clang before closing the pint and shoving it into the freezer. Her heart pounded and she took a few deep breaths. Crossing her arms, she stared out the kitchen window. The darkness was soothing as she searched for a star.

  Was she over Ewan? Yes. She’d fallen out of love with him soon after she’d realized what a conniving, manipulative liar he was. But was she over the anger, the betrayal? Not completely. Maybe she never would totally get over that, just past it. And the thought of opening herself up to someone new, a chance for getting hurt again, didn’t appeal to her whatsoever.

  Sighing, she leaned against the counter. She’d buy cats. She’d become a cat lady. If she was a crazy cat lady, people wouldn’t urge her to get back out there and start dating, they’d leave her alone. Her shoulders slumped. It had been almost a year since she’d found out the truth about Ewan. Her insides were finally numb instead of throbbing with heartache all the time, and she was glad for that. But she just wanted to be left alone. After a few months, when the initial heartache had started to subside, she’d discovered how to like being alone without being lonely. That’s how she’d known she’d truly started to heal.

  Besides, her track record with guys was pitiful.

  She looked out to the two stars she could find in the night sky and sighed again. Okay, she didn’t want to be alone forever, she could admit that. But for now, she was fine with it. She felt solid again. That was normal, right? What was with Fiona and her sudden insistence that she date again?

  Fiona. Ah boy. She’d snarled at her older sister. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Fi’s fault that she was turning into an uptight, iron-cast shell of who she onc
e was. Abby was just mad that Fi had called her on it.

  She took a few more deep breaths, and then went back into the living room. Fiona hadn’t moved. Abby sat down stiffly and reached for the remote.

  “I’m sorry I pissed you off,” Fiona said. “But I’m not sorry for what I said. Because I love you. I don’t want you to be alone forever, like I might be. One of us should find a good man and have a happy ending.”

  Abby turned to her with wide eyes. “First of all, we don’t need men to have a happy ending. We’re smart, strong, capable women.”

  “I know.” Fiona snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re getting so jaded, Abs.”

  “I am? Did you hear yourself just now? You’re not going to be alone forever!”

  “I might be,” Fiona said flatly. “Look. I’m thirty-two, a single mom to a young boy with ADHD. I work all the time. We live with my parents because my dirtbag ex-husband took off and left us with nothing. . . .” She shrugged. “Yes, I’m smart, strong, and capable. But I’m not exactly a catch.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Abby cried. “You’re all those things I said, not to mention hardworking, a great mom to a great kid, and drop-dead gorgeous. You’re a total catch.”

  Fiona smiled softly. “Thanks for that. But it’s hard to date once you have a kid. It’s just the truth. Guys my age . . . they can still find younger women, who can give them their own kids. Or at least, women who don’t have the baggage I have.”

  “I hate what I’m hearing,” Abby grumbled, fiddling with the remote control. “I really do, Fi.”

  “Know what I hate? That you’re free to do what you want, meet someone without strings, and you refuse to try.” Fiona pinned her sister with a sharp stare. “It’s a Saturday night, and you should be out with your friends.”

  “Shut up. I like hanging out here with you.” Abby’s anger had evaporated, leaving its usual tenderness for her big sister in its place. Even though they were four years apart, they’d always been close. They were more than sisters, they were best friends. They could finish each other’s sentences, had the same sense of humor, similar tastes in music and movies—they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. “Actually, I’m closer with you now than Allison, or Becca, or any of my girlfriends.”

  “That’s sweet. And I love you, too. But I’ll tell you what.” Fiona put what was left of her ice cream on the table and turned to face her sister. “Next Saturday, instead of ice cream and a movie here on the couch, we’re going out after I get home from work. To a bar, or a club. Like the fabulous young single women we are. We’re going to have drinks, maybe go dancing, and be out. We need it. We need to have fun.” Her eyes narrowed. “We’re doing that. Got me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Abby grumbled.

  Fiona snorted out a laugh. “Don’t get overly excited or anything.”

  “Starting the movie now.”

  “I’m holding you to this,” Fiona warned. “We’re going out next weekend.”

  “Starting the movie now,” Abby singsonged, aiming the remote at the TV to bring up Netflix. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was go out clubbing. That wasn’t her thing. And as for finding someone new? No thanks.

  Sometimes she didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for that. The thought of it exhausted her, frankly. She was in a good place now. At peace with being on her own. It’d certainly have to be a hell of an amazing man to change her mind about dating again—someone honest and trustworthy and solid, who could also make her burn with passion and shine with happiness. And she just wasn’t sure men like that really existed.

  Chapter Three

  Breathing heavily, Pierce slowed his pace as he eased into the last half mile of his run. He had to admit his morning run had been more enjoyable here, with the Long Island Sound as scenery, instead of the busy streets of London. It was quiet, the air was fresh instead of filled with diesel fumes, he could look out at the water instead of old buildings, and he felt calmer. Two towns over, in Edgewater, the biking/jogging trail that went along the coast of the Sound and ended at the park was a godsend.

  He’d spent some time in Edgewater in his teen years; a solid middle-class town with nice, normal people, it had seemed like a different world than Kingston Point. And he preferred it. His few friends came from the expensive private school he attended, and his best friend from there, Troy Jensen, had grown up in Edgewater and attended on scholarship. They’d been tight since the ninth grade, and ended up as co-captains of the soccer team by junior year. After graduation, Troy had gone to Dartmouth and Pierce had gone to England, but they’d stayed in touch.

  Pierce slowed to a jog as he neared the last quarter mile. Flicking a glance at his watch, he saw it was already close to eleven. He’d gotten a bit of a late start that morning due to the hangover he’d woken with. The night before, he’d gone into the city to check out the bar and lounge at Dane’s new hotel. He’d never hung out with his brother as if they were friends, but last night, they had.

  Pierce had to admit he’d had a great time. Dane was fun to hang with, doing his nickname “Golden Boy” justice. They caught up and then watched Julia sing. What a voice. She’d been fantastic, as good as any pro singer he’d heard. And he felt wrong thinking it about his sister-in-law, but she was sexy as hell. Her hourglass figure had been poured into a deep blue dress that shimmered under the lights and hugged every voluptuous curve. Coupled with the fact that she was nice, smart, and had a sharp edge, he could see why Dane had fallen so hard for her.

  And man, was Dane a goner. The guy could barely take his eyes off his wife. Pierce knew he would’ve made fun of him in years past for how obviously whipped Dane was over her . . . but he was happy for him. He never thought Dane would settle down with one woman, much less get married. But his brother was visibly, deeply happy. Maybe there was something to be said for how it could be if you found the right person . . . though God knew after the debacle in London, dating was far from his mind. And dragging some girl into his shitstorm of a life? He wasn’t cruel enough to do that, to subject some innocent person to the ruthless scrutiny of the media just to get laid.

  At the end of the night, Dane had called a car to take Pierce back to Tess’s house. Who knew how many vodka tonics he’d had in Dane’s bar? He’d stumbled up to bed around two A.M. This morning, he’d actually been able to smell the alcohol as it sweated out of his pores. The first mile had been damn rough, though. He was thirty-one years old; he had to stop doing this so often. He was getting too old for long nights out that left him demolished the next morning.

  As he slowed to a walk, he realized the other thing he had to get a grip on was that he wasn’t a football star anymore. And he wasn’t living that lifestyle anymore. Scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair, he looked up at the clear blue sky, wishing he had some answers. He didn’t know what the hell he’d do now, but he did know it was time to grow up. Getting away from his hard-partying friends in London had been a good start. Coming back to Long Island . . . well, he wasn’t sure about that decision yet, but the last week had been better than he’d thought it would be. As long as he kept away from his father, things could be fine, maybe even good.

  Getting to his Range Rover in the parking lot by the park, he grabbed his water bottle and gulped half of it down, leaning against the side of the truck. Tess had offered him free use of her BMW while he was staying with her, but he’d rented his own vehicle, not wanting to take too much from his generous sister.

  His eyes scanned the park. Troy, who’d moved back to Edgewater after his brief marriage had tanked, had asked Pierce to meet him there at noon. His six-year-old daughter’s team played then and Troy would be alone on the sidelines, so it was a good time for the guys to hang out and catch up. On the left, there were parents with young kids at the playground. He remembered getting drunk with Troy and a few others there in their late teens, and had to grin. Over on the largest expanse of green, a soccer game was in play. Judging from the size of the play
ers, the boys couldn’t be more than nine or ten years old. Pierce was early, but he’d take watching a live football game over going back to the Harrison estate any day. And he liked watching kids play. To them it was still fun, not a bloody stressful competition where the stakes were always high. Innocent fun, played for nothing but the love of the sport.

  Tossing his iPod onto the passenger seat, he finished the bottle of water and reached for the duffel bag in the back. It was a warm morning, had to be over eighty degrees already, and he was dripping. He peeled off his damp T-shirt and tossed it into the back of the truck, toweled himself off, then slid on a clean, sleeveless sky-blue tee. Grateful he’d thought to bring a second shirt despite his hangover, he grabbed a banana and another bottle of water from the bag, shoved the key into the deep pocket of his gray mesh shorts, and headed for the football field.

  Aaagh, it was soccer here, dammit. He’d have to get used to calling it that again if he was going to be back in the States. He huffed out a disgruntled breath. After over a decade abroad, that habit was going to be a hard one to break.

  The two teams were playing hard, with plenty of parents along the sidelines loudly cheering on their kids. Pierce sat on the grass by the far end, not wanting to be in anyone’s way or seem like a creeper as he watched the game. By the time he finished eating his banana, it was easy to see the red team was trouncing the blue team. The blue team was all over the place—missing shots, not making connections, and messing up plays. Lyndon’s soccer club was outplaying the Edgewater club by a mile.

  “Come ON, Nicky!” the Edgewater coach shouted. “Stay with the ball!”

  Pierce searched for the source of the insistent female voice, scanning across the field where the other members of the blue team were clustered. A woman with a short, blond ponytail and sunglasses, wearing the royal blue Edgewater gear, paced the sidelines frenetically, holding a clipboard. The corners of Pierce’s mouth quirked at the sight of that. What the hell was she marking down on that clipboard of hers? Couldn’t be plays—the kids weren’t making any. She had great legs, though. He could make out that much from where he sat. Her shorts revealed toned, shapely legs. Even from a distance, he could tell she was cute . . . especially as she barked out commands at her team throughout the game.