“Yeah,” I respond in a low voice. “Another time.” I would love to blow off Mrs. Bradford’s plans, but I vowed to make an effort with Wes. I can’t ignore my wedding responsibilities to spend time with Drew. What kind of message would that send? I already don’t want to consider how Wes will react to the idea of him being with me today.
Drew checks his watch, then sighs. “Well, I should go get the girls.”
When he leans toward me, I still, the warmth of him so close making me forget how to breathe, how to move, how to think. I wish I didn’t react this way every time he was near, but I can’t control the way my body is hyperaware of every expansion of his lungs, every beat of his heart, every dart of his eyes.
“I had fun today, Brooklyn,” he murmurs as he plants a soft kiss on my cheek. A shiver rolls down my spine, his scruff on my skin making me feel more alive than I ever have with Wes. God, I hate this. One minute, I’m convinced Wes is the man for me. The next, I’m trapped in Drew’s spell once more. A spell that’s only caused me heartache time and again.
“Me, too.”
He lingers for a moment longer, then steps back, heading toward his SUV.
As he’s about to get behind the wheel, I call out to him. “Hey, Drew?”
He meets my eyes, not saying a word.
“Thanks for buying me that dress.”
His brows scrunch together. “What are you talking about? Mrs. Bradford—”
“Didn’t pick out that dress for me to try on. There’s no way.” I smile. “I appreciate you wanting to make sure I’m able to wear the dress of my dreams on my wedding day. You really are a great friend.” I say the last part more for myself than anything else. A reminder. “Thank you.”
A thoughtful expression passes over his face, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “You deserve nothing less.” With that, he ducks into his car, a little sadder than he was moments ago.
A tightness settles in my chest as I watch him drive away, then stare into the distance after his car disappears from sight. I bring my hand up to my cheek, the feeling of his kiss still lingering on the skin. Will I ever stop doing this? Am I torturing myself by spending all this time with him?
My dinner date with Wes tonight can’t come at a more perfect time. A romantic night out is exactly what I need to remind me that marrying him is good, is right. I need to sit across the table from him at an exclusive restaurant as we dine on beautifully prepared dishes and drink exquisite wine. I need to feel his lips on mine as he makes love to me. I need to fall asleep in his arms, cocooned in his unwavering devotion, forgetting about whatever’s going on with Drew. What I don’t need is to fantasize about something that will never be a reality…at least not my reality.
I get behind the wheel of my car and turn the key. As I go to shift into drive, my phone rings. I reach into my purse, almost relieved when I see Wes’ name appear on the screen. It’s like he knows how much I need him right now.
“Hey,” I answer. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Oh really?” His tone becomes flirtatious, a huskiness in his timbre that makes my insides clench. “What exactly were you thinking about?”
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I smile coyly, even though he can’t see me. “About tonight. Maybe we skip dinner and order takeout instead. You can have me for dessert.”
“Actually…” He hesitates. “I hate to do this, but I have to cancel.”
“Oh.” My posture slumps. Wes has canceled on me before and it never upset me. But I’m finally willing to work on us, on rekindling the spark I’m sure we had at the beginning. If we didn’t, why did I date him for so long?
“I know, baby. I’m sorry. It’s just…” He trails off as a female voice I don’t recognize sounds in the background. It piques my curiosity. I know his secretary’s voice. She’s an older woman with a voice that evidences her lifelong cigarette habit. That voice does not belong to Susan. It belongs to someone younger, someone much more chipper.
“I’ll be right there,” I hear Wes say, his words muffled, as if he placed his hand over the speaker so I couldn’t hear. “Let me take care of this real quick.”
His tone sounds different, almost borderline sensual. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Wes has never shown me anything short of complete fidelity, even when I constantly fail to offer him the same. Am I so stressed that my brain is playing tricks on me, trying to convince me my devoted fiancé is cheating on me? Nothing could be more absurd.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he says, his voice clear once more. “One of our clients didn’t like the designs, so we’re scrambling to get something approved before they break ground on construction next week.”
I sigh, my shoulders sinking. I’m not sure if I’m more upset over the fact I won’t see Wes or because I hoped tonight would be the turning point in our relationship, the night I solidified my resolve that this is the path for me. I need that. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday morning when he asked me to drop off his dry-cleaning. Yes, it’s only been two days, but with each day I don’t see him and spend time with Drew, the fluctuation of my emotions becomes even more unstable.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. If it makes you feel any better, I’d much rather be with you than pull an all-nighter at the office. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
“When?” I press as that same female voice sounds in the background again.
“Soon,” he replies in haste. “Listen, I have to go.”
“Okay.” I pause. “What if I brought dinner and dessert to you? Or maybe just a quick dessert?” My tone is seductive.
“Baby, I wish I could. You have no idea how tempting that offer is. Any other time, I’d take you up on it, but this is a huge contract for our company. We could lose millions if we don’t get this done.”
“Of course.” I try to mask my disappointment. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Thanks, baby.”
I linger on the line for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll say he loves me. Nothing but dead air. When I glance at my screen, I see the call has disconnected. Doing my best to shake off the doubt filling me, I put my car in drive and pull away from Molly’s house.
As I sit at a stoplight on my way back to my place, I think of Wes and our relationship, how different it is from Molly and Noah’s. I can physically feel the love they have for each other. I have since the beginning. While Wes is courteous and affectionate around me, I’m not quite sure I feel his love. That’s probably why everyone was surprised to learn of our engagement, why I was surprised when he got down on one knee. We’re not the kind of people to show our affection through grand romantic gestures. But maybe we can be.
Pulling a U-turn, I head in the opposite direction of my house and back toward downtown Boston. Knowing Wes like I do, he hasn’t stopped to take a break to eat lunch or dinner, so I pick up sushi from one of his favorite places near his office in the Financial District, then walk the few blocks to his building. If I really wanted to surprise him, I should have gone home and grabbed one of my long trench coats, stripping off everything else except the coat. Heat rushes through me at the thought. Maybe another time.
I enter the large skyscraper, feeling dreadfully underdressed compared to everyone else coming and going, most of them wearing designer suits and expensive shoes. After signing in with the security guard in the lobby, I proceed to the elevators, wondering how Wes is going to react to seeing me. I’ve never done anything like this, never surprised him at work or at home. Noah surprises Molly all the time when she’s out at one of her favorite writing spots in the city. He brings her a chocolate chip muffin from the café or lunch he packed just for her. It’s such a simple gesture, but I know how much Molly loves and appreciates how he takes time out of his busy schedule to see her. Wes surprised me with flowers a few days ago. It’s time I return the favor.
When I reach the floor where his architecture firm is located, I step off the elevator and into the frenzied reception a
rea. The phone seems to ring incessantly as employees hurry by. I’ve been here before, but never unannounced. Wes was always expecting me. I’d even been marked in the receptionist’s calendar. I’m not sure how to feel about the idea that I’m just another item in Wes’ schedule. Will I always just be someone he has to make time for, not someone he genuinely wants to see?
“Can I help you, miss?” the bubbly, red-headed receptionist asks as I approach the front desk. I don’t recognize her from the few times I’ve been here.
“My name’s Brooklyn Tanner. I’m Wes Bradford’s girlfriend.”
She waggles her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean fiancée?”
I shake my head. “Yes. Sorry. I guess I’m still getting used to it. I know he’s busy on a project, but I wanted to stop by and bring him something to eat.” I hold up the bag.
“That’s sweet of you.” She frowns. “But Mr. Bradford isn’t here.”
I swallow hard, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. “What do you mean?”
She looks at the computer monitor in front of her. “Yes. It says right here that he signed out as unavailable for the rest of the day.”
“When?”
Hesitant, her eyes float back to mine. “I can’t be sure, but I haven’t seen him since I got back from lunch at one.”
“Did he go to a client meeting?” I start to grasp at straws.
“No. He wouldn’t mark himself out for something like that. It would say where he was and who he was meeting so we’d have it for our records.”
“Huh.” I stare off into space, wondering why Wes would lie…and who belonged to that voice on the other end of the phone. The thought of him cheating on me had crossed my mind earlier. Now it’s back. Why would he cancel our dinner and tell me he had to work late unless he’s doing something he shouldn’t be?
“I’m sorry,” the receptionist says, looking uneasy.
Smiling, I return my eyes to her. “Don’t be. I may have misunderstood when we spoke earlier. I’ve been so frazzled with planning the wedding, I’d forget my brain if it weren’t attached to my head.”
Her shoulders relax, relief seeming to wash over her. “If he pops back in, I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I turn, my mind reeling as I make my way out of the building.
The instant I’m outside, my eyes zero in on a nearby trash can and I head toward it, tossing Wes’ food into it. I look up at the cloudy sky, feeling like I’m at a crossroads. I never thought Wes to be the type of person to cheat on me, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’ve been wrong about him all along. No one can be that perfect all the time, can they? Truthfully, if I didn’t hear a female’s voice on the other end of the line, I wouldn’t be thinking this way. But the sensuality in her tone and huskiness in his response make me rethink everything.
I pull my phone out of my purse and dial his cell, hoping to give him a chance to explain. His voicemail kicks in on the second ring, indicating he purposely sent my call there instead of answering. I stare straight ahead at the busy city plaza, not really seeing anything.
Perhaps this all happened for a reason. Perhaps this is exactly the wake-up call I need. Perhaps this is the universe’s way of steering me in the direction I’ve been fighting against for years.
It feels like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. A smile crosses my lips at the thought, remembering something Aunt Gigi often said to me.
“You’ll know you made the right decision when you feel stress leaving your body.”
Her words pushing me forward, I glance back at my screen, dial another number, and bring my phone up to my ear.
After a few rings, the call is answered. “Brooklyn? Are you okay?”
“I’m great.” I pause, drawing in a deep breath. Shouldn’t I be upset over the idea that Wes could be cheating on me? Even if he isn’t, shouldn’t I be angry he lied, angry he canceled our date? But I’m not. I feel…free. “Is that invitation to go with you and the girls tomorrow still open?”
“I thought you had engagement photos and other wedding stuff.” I can hear the surprise in Drew’s tone.
“I do.”
“Then…”
“I’d rather spend the day with you.”
He exhales a short breath. I imagine a smile building on his lips, forcing his dimples to pop. Few people can make those dimples appear. His girls definitely can, but so can I. That has to be worth something, right?
“Want to meet at the café at nine? Gigi will throttle me if she finds out I took the girls to the city and didn’t stop by to see her.”
“Sounds perfect. See you then.”
As I’m about to end the call, Drew speaks once more. “Hey, Brooklyn?”
“Yes?”
“Is everything okay? I mean, is there a reason you’re skipping your engagement photos? Are you prepared for the potential backlash?”
“I don’t care about that anymore. The wedding is in less than three months. By the time the photos are ready, we’ll be married. It’s pointless.”
“And the caterer? Choosing the flowers?”
“Mrs. Bradford will choose what she wants regardless of what I say. So, please, let me spend the day with you. I need this.” More than you know.
“There’s no one I’d rather spend the day with.”
I clutch the phone tighter, allowing his words to bathe me in comfort.
“See you tomorrow?” he asks when I don’t respond.
“Of course. Have a good evening. And give those girls a big squeeze from their auntie Brook.”
“I will. Sweet dreams, Brooklyn.”
“Goodbye, Drew.”
Chapter Seventeen
DREW
“Good morning, Aunt Gigi,” I call out as I enter the café, Alyssa and Charlotte in tow.
She looks up from behind the counter where she’s taking a customer’s order. It doesn’t matter I officially handed her the reins of the café when I began coaching hockey again, even though I’m still technically the owner on paper. Like my father, she loves interacting with the people who come through that door, says the personal contact with the owners gives the place a feeling of familiarity and keeps them coming back, instead of going to Starbucks. With a quick look around the busy café to see nearly every table full and a line almost out the door, I have to admit she may be onto something.
“There are my little angels!” She beams, gesturing for one of our employees to take over for her. She makes her way out to the dining area and holds her arms out for Alyssa and Charlotte.
“I’m not that little anymore,” I joke, both of my girls giggling as they snuggle against Gigi’s petite frame.
“I wasn’t talking about you, Andrew.” She glares playfully at me. “I raised you. I know from experience you are no angel.” She shifts her eyes back to Alyssa and Charlotte. “But you two… Well, you certainly are angels, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Capisci?”
“Capisci!” they both respond.
Even though Gigi is second-generation American, certain phrases have stuck over the years. It doesn’t matter that my great-grandfather has been gone for quite some time now. We still hold dear many of the traditions he began when he came to this country with barely a penny to his name—from our weekly Sunday dinner, to treating everyone who walks in those doors like a long-lost relative, to calling a colander a “spaghetti-a-stoppa-da-water-go-through”, as I learned he did during his life. And we still say it in a thick Italian accent, imitating him as best we can.
I beam with pride at Alyssa and Charlotte, hoping they’ll someday pass our stories and traditions on to the next generation. As I see the bond they share with their great-aunt Gigi, I know I’ve already passed on how important family is.
“Do you girls want a chocolate chip muffin before you go?” Gigi asks, peering at them with all the love in her heart. Like the rest of us, my darling aunt can be hardheaded and stubborn, but she’s fiercely loyal to her family. It do
esn’t matter we aren’t technically her kids, that Alyssa and Charlotte aren’t technically her grandchildren. She still spoils them as any good grandmother would, with sweets, presents, and unrelenting adoration.
“Like they’ll say no to that,” I mumble as we follow her toward the display cases, showcasing every sugary concoction possible—muffins, pastries, cookies, cannolis. She ducks behind the counter and retrieves two muffins, handing one each to Alyssa and Charlotte.
“They need to enjoy their childhood. And that includes the occasional sweet.”
Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I roll my eyes. “It’s more than occasional around here.”
She shrugs, dismissing my comment as I glance around. There are several familiar faces, regulars who come to the café every day, even Saturdays. Some have been coming since my father ran the place before the Alzheimer’s took him. As grateful as I am for their loyalty, they’re not who I’m looking for. The only person I care about seeing is one stunningly beautiful brunette whose mere presence lately seems to make my heart beat a thunderous rhythm.
I look at my watch. 9:15. It’s not like Brooklyn to be late. She’s alarmingly punctual. Is she having second thoughts about ditching her wedding responsibilities today? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised that she not only called me yesterday afternoon, but is willing to put her relationship with her future mother-in-law and Wes at risk just to spend the day with me. This doesn’t sound like the Brooklyn I know. The one who always puts other people’s needs ahead of her own. Who always does what’s expected of her. I wonder what prompted the change.
“Everything okay, Andrew?”
Gigi’s voice pulls me from my thoughts and I snap my eyes back to hers. “Everything’s great.”
“Are you sure?” She looks at me through narrow eyes. I feel like she’s using her mystical aunt powers to penetrate my thoughts. When I was younger, I was convinced she was a witch. I’m not quite sure that juvenile thought ever died.
“Of course.” I retrieve my cell from my pocket and check my messages. Nothing. When I shove my phone back into my jeans, I meet Gigi’s eyes. “Has Brooklyn stopped by?” I ask, although I know I’ll regret it.
Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire Page 105