by Christi Snow
She looked over at Lily for instruction. Lily continued to fold the dough, but her eyes twinkled. “His diaper bag is on the other side of the bassinet. Can you handle it?”
“Yeah, it’s been a few years, but I think I can probably manage.” Once upon a time, she’d regularly volunteered to take care of her friends’ children so they could go out on date nights. She’d figured it was good practice for when she’d someday have kids of her own. Her throat tightened as she efficiently changed Barrett’s diaper. She may have fumbled a little bit with his tiny snaps, but that was more to do with her ricocheting emotions rather than inability.
Lily instructed her on how to use the bottle warmer—something she had a little bit less experience with. Then Emily sat down in one of the big barstools to feed the hungry baby. Lily had moved on to cutting up and peeling the apples. She glanced over and checking Emily’s progress every few seconds. “You’re a natural with kids,” Lily said.
“Thanks,” Emily choked out. The longer she held Barrett, the more her heart hurt.
“Brady was always like that, too. All the little ones adore him. I can’t wait until you two make me a grandmother.”
Children.
Her and Brady.
A cold sweat developed on her skin.
Of course, his mother would expect that. He was only twenty-four, but no matter how much Emily wanted them, she’d never be able to have children. She’d never be able to give him that.
But Brady was still so young. He could meet someone who could give him that. He deserved to have children of his own.
She’d been living in a fantasy world with him the last month, but in the last minute, reality had come crashing down around her. She knew the facts about her situation, but she’d been pretending she could be what Brady needed.
He deserved everything the future could give him, and that included a big family with little boys and girls who had dimples matching his. Her chest tightened.
She couldn’t stay with him. Oh, god.
Emily half-rose from the barstool, pretty sure she was going to be sick.
“Emily?”
She could hear the concern in Lily’s voice, but Emily had closed her eyes, swallowing hard, and willing the bile to stay down.
“What’s wrong?”
It sounded as if Lily’s voice came from a long ways away.
“I’m sorry,” Emily choked out. “I’m suddenly not feeling well.”
Luckily, Barrett had almost finished his bottle, burped, and was back asleep. Emily gently laid him back in the bassinet. “He should be set.” Her stomach churned. She had to get out of the house, before she lost it.
Outside the snow had stopped, and thick clouds hung low over the tops of the mountains, making it feel foggy. The sensation made Emily feel even more alone as she jogged back to Brady’s cabin.
When she arrived, a courier van was parked out front.
She dashed at her tears and climbed the stairs of the porch where the deliveryman was ringing the doorbell. “Can I help you?” Her voice sounded broken and choked.
He turned to her with a relieved sigh. “Ah, yes, good. I need a signature. It’s an urgent, overnight delivery for Brady Gresham.”
“I can sign for it, I think. I’m his wife.”
The man nodded. “That’s fine. Just sign his name.”
She signed, and he shoved a thick envelope into her icy grip.
“Happy New Year,” he said and then rushed back to his delivery truck.
Emily went into the cabin, dazed as she stared at the return label on the envelope. It was from the law firm handling their annulment. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten that everything was supposed to be processed and done this week.
She ripped at the pull string, and the annulment papers slid out.
Her tears flowed freely now.
The legal documents had little flags where they needed to sign for the annulment to be final. With a sob, she ransacked her purse, finding her favorite fountain pen.
Her heart screamed at her not to do this, but her head knew this is what she had to do. For Brady.
She signed, ignoring her shaking hands, and laid the papers on the counter along with her pen. She never wanted to see the pen again, either. She rushed upstairs to pack her bag. She couldn’t stay here any longer.
THE FIRST THING BRADY noticed when he entered the cabin were Emily’s bags by the front door. Foreboding settled over him. He found her sitting in front of the fireplace, her shoulders slumped. She looked so alone with her back to him. What had happened while he’d been skiing?
“Emily?”
She turned. Her eyes were red but clear of tears even thought she’d obviously been crying. She gave him a brittle smile. “Hi.”
He glanced down at her bags again. “What’s going on?”
“I need to go,” she said.
None of this made sense. Just last night, they’d agreed that they’d give their relationship more try.
“Did something happen?” he asked cautiously. No one had called or texted to tell him there’d been a problem.
She nodded. “I had an epiphany.” She rose from her seat and approached him, twisting her hands together like she was cold and couldn’t get warm. “Last night, you asked me for more time, but it occurred to me today that we’ve been living in a fantasy. The last month has been wonderful, but that’s because it’s not real.” Her voice broke, and she looked away from him for a moment and gathered her control.
“What I’m feeling for you is very real.” He clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to go to her and shake this nonsensical idea out of her. What in the world could have changed so much in the last couple of hours? He didn’t understand...at all.
She shook her head. “It’s been truly lovely, but it’s been like a honeymoon—lots of fabulous sex—which is great, but doesn’t work long-term. I’m not the long-term girl for you. I’m fun for a few months, but then the relationship will get old. I can’t do that anymore. It hurts. With you, I think it would hurt even more, so I need to walk away while I still can.”
She brushed a tear off her cheek. “You’re twenty-four years old. Your entire future is in front of you. And someday, that will mean a family. I can’t give you that.”
Family. Suddenly, things were making a little more sense. “This is about what your douche bag of an ex-husband did to you when you had a miscarriage.”
Tears spilled over her lashes. “No, not really. This is about me, my inability to stick, and yes, a little bit about what happened when I had that last miscarriage. Even before that, my marriage was in trouble. I had no doubt my husband had already fallen out of love with me. It happens. With me, it happens a lot.”
She blew out a breath. “But that’s not all. Brady, my uterus ruptured with that last pregnancy, and I had to have a complete hysterectomy. I can never have children.” She wrapped her arms around her waist.
He understood how that loss might feel huge to her, because she was obviously a person who thrived around children. “Emily, I’ve watched you with the kids this week and anyone can see how much you love them, but to me, kids aren’t a make or break thing. I like them fine, but my family is already so huge. Besides, we can adopt.”
He just had to make her see that. His nerves settled. He could fix this and get them back on the same page.
He shook his head at her and took her in his arms. “That doesn’t matter to me, Em. You’re all I want.”
Her back shook with her quiet tears before she pulled out of his arms. She wiped her tears and squared her shoulders before turning to him. “You can say that now, because you’re still so young. I doubt you’ve even given any real consideration to having kids, which is how it should be at this point in your life. You have so much time for all that. But time is the one thing I can’t give you. Any more time with you, and it will shatter me when we break up. I won’t do that. I can’t do that.”
“Dammit, Em.” He blew out a breath and ground
his teeth together, trying to keep hold of his temper. “You’re treating me like I’m a toddler and not old enough to know my own mind.” He threw his arms up, not sure how to make it any more clear. “I. Love. You.”
A sob broke from her throat.
“That isn’t going to change,” he said and even he could hear the pleading in his voice. “It’s not contingent on you being able to have babies or not. Hell, we can adopt or just enjoy all my cousins’ hordes and still have our nights completely our own to have wild, crazy sex in the living room if we want.”
He didn’t know how to get through to her. “You keep pushing me away, and I get that you’ve been hurt. You’ve been burned. No one can blame you for being cautious. But baby, I’m going to love you tomorrow and the day after that and the month after that and the year after that. My love isn’t going to change.”
She slowly backed away from him, shaking her head. “I wish I could believe that, could trust it. God, Brady, you’ve been amazing. But I know better. Give it time. You’ll see I’m right.”
“Emily—” This time, his voice broke on the emotion. She was slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He’d already laid all his heart and love on the floor in front of her, and she’d stomped on it like it was nothing.
“Is it okay if I take the rental to Denver?” she asked. “I’m assuming you can get a ride to the airport with some of your family.”
How could she be talking about normal things like driving arrangements when she was breaking his heart? He nodded, numbness beginning to sweep over him.
She gestured to an envelope on the counter of the kitchen. “The annulment papers arrived. I’ve signed them. All you have to do is sign, too, and you’re free to live your life. Go. Find someone better suited to give you what you need.”
She walked out the door and took his heart with her.
Chapter Eighteen
Three hours later, Brady hadn’t moved much except to grab the annulment papers—yep, Emily had signed them, dammit—and then the bottle of Scotch out of the cabinet.
He’d started out drinking from a lowball glass but had quickly devolved to drinking straight from the bottle. But no matter how fuzzy his vision and brain became, the pain radiating from his chest didn’t lessen.
A knock sounded at his door, and relief swept over him. He needed a diversion. Hopefully, one of his cousins could provide it.
When he opened his cabin door, his mother stood on the porch, fresh snow dusting her dark hair. Her eyes were filled with concern.
He swayed and grabbed the doorframe with the hand not clinging to the Scotch bottle.
“What happened?” Her eyes narrowed on him. “Why are you drunk in the middle of the day? Emily was upset earlier, wasn’t she?”
He honed in on her knowledge that Emily was upset, his suspicion growing even through the fog of alcohol.
“Yes,” he slurred. “What do you know about it? She was upset, but I don’t understand. She’s gone. She’s left me. I thought we were good, on the same page.” The suffocating weight on his chest radiated out, spreading to every nerve in his body like a fire frying his nerves, his ability to feel. He took another drink of the Scotch. He needed to be numb. “What happened?” he whispered, afraid to hear that he simply hadn’t been enough for Emily. There had to be more to the story.
His mother winced, but instead of answering, she grabbed him by the elbow and nudged him back into his cabin and onto his couch, taking his bottle of Scotch from him as he collapsed on the cushions.
The whole world spun, so he leaned back and closed his eyes on a groan.
“We’ll sort it out.” His mother sighed. “But right now, there won’t be any more talking until you sober up some.”
He opened his eyes. His mother glanced at him worriedly as she typed into her phone.
He must have passed out, because the next thing he knew, a cacophony of sound filled his cabin, rattling his head with the pounding of too many female voices in an enclosed space.
He rolled over on the couch. “Oh, god. Please be quiet. Why do you all have to be so loud?”
Someone bounced down on the cushions beside where his head rested, sending fireworks exploding in his head. Nausea rolled low in his gut. He glared up at the perpetrator.
Sabrina.
She gave him a wide smile. “Partying in the middle of the day without us, cuz? That’s not cool.” She pulled him up from his half-lying position.
His head swum at the change in elevation. “Please, just go away,” he slurred.
“Nope.” She shoved a coffee cup into his hand. “Drink. Get sobered up. We’re all here to help you make a plan to win your girl back.”
That got his attention, and he looked around the room. Most of the female members of his family were crowded into his cabin, all watching him with empathy and compassion.
His gaze jerked to the one male in the room, Daniel. Brady lifted his eyebrows in question.
Daniel shrugged. “I’m gay. For some reason, they thought that meant I might be able to help.”
Brady snorted out a laugh even though it made his head pound more. After watching Daniel screw any male that seemed halfway interested, there was no way he’d take relationship advice from him. However, he appreciated the commiserating bit of testosterone.
Gingerly, he sipped his coffee as reality swayed in the middle of his drunkenness.
Emily was gone, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to take a full breath again.
But his mother knew something. “Mom, you acted like you weren’t surprised Emily was upset. Did something happen?”
Another cousin shoved a cookie in his hand. “To soak up the alcohol.”
Not a bad idea. He nodded and took a bite before looking back at his mom for her answer.
She wrung her hands. “I think it’s my fault. I didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just so good with kids. She was feeding Barrett...”
Barrett, the newest Gresham baby. Brady groaned and closed his eyes.
“Mom...” His voice cracked. It wasn’t his mom’s fault. She hadn’t known, but he could see the scene now. His mom wanted grandchildren desperately.
“Tell me.” His mom’s voice dropped with guilt.
“Emily can’t have kids. She had a series of miscarriages during her last marriage. Something happened with the last one, and they had to do a total hysterectomy. While she was still in the hospital, the story broke about her famous husband’s infidelity. To make matters worse, his nineteen-year-old mistress was pregnant.”
There was an audible gasp of outrage in the room.
“Yeah. Exactly.” His heart shattered as he thought about how much her douche of an ex-husband had hurt her. Brady wanted nothing more than to fix that, but he had no idea how.
His mom looked devastated at her part in sending Emily fleeing, but that wouldn’t fix anything.
“Mom, it wasn’t your fault. There’s no way you could have known. Hell, I had no idea. What I have to do now is figure out how to fix this. She has it in her head that this is a deal breaker for us.”
“You love her,” Sabrina said.
“So much so,” Brady agreed.
“Could it be a deal breaker?” Barrett’s mom, Brynn asked.
Brady shook his head. “No, not even close. I love all of your kids, no doubt.” He looked around the room at all the moms. “But it’s different for me, I think. I’m not wired like most people. Yes, the idea of her having my baby is incredible, but only because it speaks to that caveman side of me that says by her having my baby she’s more mine.”
Several of the females gave him disapproving glares.
“Yes, I know. It’s a total misogynistic response. I can admit that. But for me, it’s about my love for her and not the baby. Without her, the babies mean nothing. At least, that’s the way it works for me.” He looked to Daniel, who nodded as if he got where Brady was coming from.
“That’s actually kind of beauti
ful, Brady,” his mom said as she dabbed her eyes. “No wonder you make such a good songwriter.”
Sabrina snapped her fingers. “That’s it. You can fix this. You just have to sober up, stop feeling sorry for yourself, and get your fucking act together. You’re a songwriter. Make the grand gesture. Show her through your music how much you love her. No woman could resist that.” All the Gresham brides nodded. A few had secret smiles and murmured about how that was what their husbands had done.
Okay, this might be the start of a plan. A song began to build in his mind...centered around hope. He could be patient. She’d asked for time. He could give it to her. In the meantime, he’d show her all the ways that he loved her. Maybe, slowly, he could wear her down and show her that when he asked for more time with her, he really meant forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Emily woke on the couch in her home office to find Mac beside her, reading a pile of papers. Her head pounded from crying so late into the night, and she could tell her eyes were swollen and red without even looking into a mirror. She wasn’t exactly in prime visitor mode.
She frowned as she sat up, running a hand over her rat’s nest of a hairstyle. “You know when I gave you a spare key, it was with the assumption you’d knock before you came in.”
He didn’t even look at her. He frowned down at the paper and flipped to the next page. “Yeah, well, when I became your best friend it was with the assumption you would call me when you were upset. Obviously, we were both set up to be disappointed in this arrangement.”
Guilt sank low in her gut, so she burrowed deeper into her quilt, not ready to face the real world yet. Tears filled her eyes...again. She sniffled.
Mac flipped another page, reading. He still didn’t look at her. “This is really good. When did you write it?”
She was so lost in her misery she hadn’t been really paying attention to what he was reading. She glanced down at it now. Her screenplay. Alarm propelled her into motion, and she yanked it out of his hands and leapt off the couch.
“Emily!” For the first time, his gaze shot to her. His frown lined his face and made him look much older. “What the hell?”