Twist of Fate: A Heartbreaker Bay Novella Read online

  “He’s all verklempt,” Tyler explained to Diego.

  Diego nodded. Same. “So…this wasn’t a wedding planning lunch,” he said, wishing he had more than a glass of water in front of him. “It’s what? An intervention?”

  Daisy met Diego’s gaze for the first time. Her eyes were still slay-me gray, framed by inky black lashes that drew a man in like she was the only warm haven in a world gone mad. “Diego,” she said softly.

  “Daisy.” Hey, look at that. His voice sounded perfectly calm. Casual. Not at all like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest. The heart she’d once slayed.

  “Diego.” She didn’t seem surprised to see him. As for what her thoughts might be, she kept them damn well hidden, though her voice when she spoke trembled a bit. “Thanks for coming,” she said, like this was a normal thing and not the first time they’d seen each other in ten years. “We’re all just hoping you and Rocco can talk out any…issues so we can make sure things are smooth for the wedding.”

  Her voice was still quiet but husky, just as it used to be, the same tone that had given him more sexual fantasies than any other.

  But these days, he no longer thought about her. At least, not that he’d admit. “And you’re here…why?”

  “Because I asked her,” Rocco said.

  At his older brother’s words, Diego cocked his head but didn’t take his eyes off Daisy. “Because…?”

  “She’s our wedding planner,” Tyler said smoothly, waving down a waiter and signaling for more wine. “The best in the business.”

  Daisy smiled at Tyler and then turned back to Diego. “It’s nice to see you.”

  What the hell? He’d fallen asleep on the boat and was dreaming this, right? Nice to see him? Was she kidding? He’d told her that he loved her, and then she’d left. Moved to New York for college without looking back. He opened his mouth to remind her of that fact, but Rocco stood up and tugged on his arm.

  “I think we should talk outside.”

  Diego wrenched free without looking at him and turned to Daisy. “I need to talk to you.” He had no idea what game she was playing, but he intended to find out.

  Daisy opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Rocco once again put a hand on him.

  Diego looked down at his arm. Rocco was older by two years, but at six foot four, Diego had four inches on his brother—most of them harder and leaner. Rocco with his bulkier mass outweighed Diego and was more badass when it came right down to it, but Diego was working on a lot of resentment and anger, so it’d be a solid match.

  And a fight long overdue.

  Rocco dropped his hand from Diego and shoved his fingers through his shaggy, black hair that was the same as Diego’s. Apparently, Rocco had learned some restraint over the years, but not too much as he jerked his head to the door and lumbered out.

  Diego followed without looking back.

  Which wasn’t easy because Daisy had looked…different. Among other things. She’d always been girl-next-door pretty. And part of what Diego had loved about her was that they’d had a lot in common. Both had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, the poor kids who didn’t have a penny to their name.

  She was still girl-next-door pretty, but there was a whole new air about her now, as well. She was dressed in a blue suit dress and matching heels, looking professional, smart, and incredibly sure of herself—which he had to admit, was attractive as hell.

  But she also looked like someone he didn’t know. Certainly not the type of woman who’d mesh with a guy who lived on a boat.

  “Well,” he heard her say to Tyler as he walked away. “That went about as well as expected.”

  In response, Tyler laughed softly, apparently unconcerned that his fiancé was about to get the pretty punched off his face.

  Ahead of him, Rocco pushed out the restaurant doors and walked down the pier to a relatively isolated spot. Instead of turning to face Diego, his brother leaned on the piling and let out a whoosh of air.

  Diego stood behind him, waiting.

  Finally, Rocco straightened and faced him.

  “Nice blind side,” Diego said.

  Rocco winced. “I knew you’d take it like that, but Tyler thought a neutral spot would be best.”

  “Since when is a place like The French House neutral?”

  “We both know you wouldn’t have come to Dad’s house or the tat shop, so I don’t know what the hell your problem is.”

  “My problem,” Diego said trying to temper himself, “is that you didn’t even try to contact me yourself. And then to sit there like we’re having tea with the queen, only it’s Daisy, my—” He broke off. First love? Hell, first everything. But he wasn’t about to say that. “You could have called me.”

  “You wouldn’t have come if I asked.” Rocco shook his head. “I should’ve told you to stay the hell away. Because telling you not to do something makes you do the opposite. You were like that as a kid, too. When Dad told you not to sneak out, you’d do it twice and take pictures.”

  True. And besides the point. “I agreed to be your best man,” Diego said. “Why wouldn’t I have come?”

  “Because we haven’t gotten along since the day you took off ten years ago.”

  “I took off?” Diego repeated in disbelief. “Are you serious? You’re rewriting history to suit yourself now.”

  Rocco took a step toward him and poked a finger in Diego’s pec. “You don’t know what it was like here alone after Dad died. You’re my brother, you should’ve—"

  Diego stepped into Rocco’s finger so that they were toe-to-toe, effectively cutting off Rocco’s words. “I’m the one who took care of him night and day for two years after his stroke. When he couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, couldn’t care for himself. I was eighteen and in my first semester at college—which I had to junk. Where were you then, brother?”

  Rocco didn’t say anything. Diego knew he couldn’t say much since it was all true.

  Growing up, Diego and their dad had fought. A lot. Diego got it. He’d been a handful and trouble-bound. Rocco had been just as wild, but he had a way of hiding it, and he’d definitely been the favored son. He and their dad had shared a real relationship that Diego had robbed himself of.

  He’d always planned to resolve their issues, he’d just never known how. But time had run out because after their dad’s stroke, the guy had been completely nonverbal, and they couldn’t resolve shit. At the time, Diego had wanted to keep him in hospice because all medical opinions led to one thing—his dad wasn’t going to come back from the stroke. The man had been fiercely proud, and Diego knew that being at home in that condition with his sons having to take care of his personal needs would have killed him even faster. He’d never have wanted to be that helpless in front of them.

  But Rocco had disagreed. Vehemently. And one night after Diego had left the hospital, Rocco had checked their dad out. It’d taken him half a day to realize his mistake. That in fact, he wasn’t capable of the level of care their dad required. But by then, the insurance wouldn’t cover the costs of readmittance—not unless their dad ended up back in the ICU.

  The next morning, Diego had woken to find Rocco gone. He’d left a note saying that he had to get away.

  Leaving Diego alone and in charge.

  And Rocco had stayed gone. Turned out he’d been in the Bahamas, falling in love and finding a life thousands of miles away.

  Their dad had died two years later. Diego had waited until the funeral, which Rocco had shown up for. He’d handed Rocco a stack of medical bills and the keys to the house and The Canvas Shop—the tattoo parlor that had been their dad’s legacy. “My turn,” he’d said and left town.

  That had been a decade ago.

  Now, they stared at each other until Diego shook his head. “You wanted me here, and I came. Let’s just do what has to be done.”

  That’s when Diego heard the click, click, clicking of high heels coming towards them, loud and clear. Even before t