“No,” is all I can force out. “I’m not even sure where I am.”
“Damn.” He whistles, the sound sending my head spinning. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left you two at the bar.”
“Jesus, keep it down.” There are a few seconds where all I hear is the clicking of his typing.
“Listen, you’re at Mathis’s condo. He said he dragged you into his guest room last night.”
I’m finally able to crack open one eye and recognize the room in my brother’s place. “That’s good.”
“Well, it’s about to get better. Grab some coffee and call me right back. You have five minutes.”
“What’s going on?”
“You’re going to need coffee. Mathis is already at the hospital, so you have the place to yourself. Five minutes. Move your ass!” He hangs up before I can tell him to screw off.
I hardly ever drink heavily during the season because it fucks with me too much. But with the reappearance of Grace, last night I decided to break my own rule and drank more than I’d like to admit. Jack Daniels pounds through my head, staying with me every step as I make my way to the bathroom and splash water on my face. My eyes finally clear, and I cringe at my reflection.
Wrinkled clothes, bloodshot eyes, and hair standing straight on top of my head. What a fucking winner.
I finish in the bathroom and head to Mathis’ kitchen, grateful for the simplicity of his coffee maker.
In exactly five minutes, Shaw calls back as I sink onto the couch.
“You feeling better?”
“Getting there.” I take my first sip and lean back. “Want to tell me what’s got you so worked up?”
“Mathis said his iPad is on the coffee table. Can you find it and log into your email?”
“What the hell is wrong with you this morning? Did you wake up with extra bossiness? If you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m hanging up and turning off my phone.”
“Get into your email, Nick, now.” His tone changes, and I suddenly know what this is about.
“You found her.”
He’s quiet as I grab the iPad and log into my email. The instant I open his message, my heartbeat speeds. Grace’s beautiful face appears on the screen.
“It’s her. This is Grace.” I tell him what he most likely already knows.
“Figured… Jesus, Nick, I can totally see it now. She’s stunning, and the eyes…”
Tinges of jealousy prickle my skin. “Watch it, Shaw.”
“Whoa, I’m obviously not a threat, but I can appreciate this woman’s beauty. She’s exactly as you described her.”
“Yeah, she is. How’d you find her?”
“The information came through early this morning. You obviously haven’t used Google in your searches, or you’d have found her, too. Grace Monroe is part owner of Monroe Gallery in South Beach. The gallery provided all the pieces and artwork for the event the other night.”
“That explains why she was there.”
“Monroe Gallery is owned by her and her brother, Logan Monroe. He started the process of opening the gallery eighteen months ago and has since made quite a name for himself in the art community. Grace joined him here a few months ago.”
Months? She’s been in Miami for months? Why didn’t she contact me? Maybe she’s not alone or she’s married. Maybe she’s involved in a serious relationship. The little sip of coffee starts to roll in my stomach.
I realize I’m being completely irrational. Two years is a long time. How stupid am I? What exactly was I expecting here?
“If she still goes by Monroe, I’d guess she’s not married.” Shaw answers my unspoken question. “You were right about her not having a social footprint. She’s nowhere online except her biography on the gallery’s website, which was only added last week.”