I fling my arms around him, tackling him onto the couch. This is the most laid-back I’ve ever felt around him. It’s what I’ve always wanted for us. I often admired the way Molly and Noah interacted with each other. Tonight, I finally feel some of that with Wes. He’s right. We don’t need to know pointless facts about each other to know this will work. This is easy. It’s comfortable. It’s effortless.
“You better not. Don’t you ever lose that accent of yours.”
“You like my accent?” he asks, his sweet Georgia drawl even more pronounced.
I hover over him, biting my lower lip. “You have no idea what it does to me.”
“Well then…” He hooks a leg around my waist, pinning me against him and flipping me onto my back, his motions quick. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to let me see exactly what it does to you.”
The playfulness leaves, his eyes darkening with desire as his fingers dig into my sides. Keeping his gaze trained on me, he lowers my yoga pants down my legs, then stands, pushing down his jeans. After he fishes a condom out of his wallet, he returns to me. His mouth finds mine, his kiss soft, consuming me, exploring as if it were the first time our lips have met. Right now, it feels that way, like we’re able to put aside all the troubles we thought plagued our survival, basking in this connection. When he enters me, his motions slow, languid, loving, I lose myself in him, in this moment, forgetting about everything and everyone else.
Well, almost everyone. Everyone except the one person I wish I could forget, the one person I need to forget. The one person I want to forget. The one person I can’t forget.
Chapter Twenty-Six
BROOKLYN
This is a terrible idea, I think as I stare up at Drew’s house Sunday evening. My subconscious is telling me to turn around and go back home, but I need to talk to Molly about what happened at the shower yesterday. All last night, I lay awake as Wes slept beside me, his arm draped across my body. I should have found comfort in his embrace, but I didn’t. His touch bothered me. I don’t want that to be the case. After his beautiful words, I should want…no, crave that man’s touch. I shouldn’t look into his eyes and wish they were brown, deep, and penetrating. It’s time to leave the past in the past.
Lively voices fill the open space as I let myself into the house. It reminds me of so many other Sunday nights. No matter what’s going on in our lives, no matter how busy we are, we always take the time to get together every Sunday night. Even when Drew was playing professional hockey, he made a point to come to Sunday dinner when he was in town. Back then, it was held at his father’s house, but once he got sick and had to be put in a long-term care facility, Drew took over so the tradition didn’t die. And it’s a tradition I love, one I’ve missed over the past few weeks.
Drawing in a deep breath, I steel myself for what needs to be done and continue toward the frivolity. The instant I step into the kitchen, the boisterous voices quiet, several pairs of eyes looking my way. My heart rate picks up and I immediately regret coming. Then I remind myself why I’m here and offer a smile, pretending this is like every other Sunday dinner. By this point, I’ve mastered the art of pretending.
“Auntie Brook!” Alyssa’s excited voice cuts through the awkward tension. I look in her direction to see two little girls running toward me. “You made it!”
“Of course I did.” I crouch to their level, giving both girls a hug and a kiss.
“And you’re wearing pants!” Charlotte says.
I furrow my brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You weren’t yesterday. You wore a dress. You don’t like dresses.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s what Daddy said when I told him you were wearing a princess dress.”
“Is that right?” I tear my eyes from Charlotte, meeting Drew’s gaze.
“Glad you could finally fit us into your busy schedule.” His tone is sardonic and biting.
“Yes.” I straighten. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’ll try to be better about managing my time.” I look around the room, surveying all the familiar faces—Molly, Noah, Gigi, Leo. These people love and support me, even if they don’t agree with all my decisions. “You’re all very important to me. No matter what, you always will be.”
“And you’re important to us, Brook.” Molly slings her arm across my shoulders, squeezing me. “More than you realize,” she murmurs in a low voice. “Especially to some people.”
I sigh, stepping back. This is precisely the kind of comment I’ve come here to stop. Keeping up this charade isn’t fair to me, to Drew, to Wes.
“What is it?” Molly asks as the normal Sunday ritual of Gigi kicking Drew out of his own kitchen resumes. It’s like I wasn’t even missing over the past few weeks. Life went on without me. And it will go on without me again. It has to.
“Can we go out back and talk for a second?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just…” I chew on my bottom lip, fidgeting with my hands. My mouth suddenly feels dry, my heart racing. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
“Okay.” Her response is guarded, but she still loops her arm through mine.
We step out of the French doors into the cool air, heading toward the unlit fire pit. The final remnants of the day are visible, the sun casting an orange hue in the sky, a few birds chirping before settling in for the night. I sit on one of the cement benches surrounding the fire pit and Molly lowers herself beside me.
“What’s going on, Brook?”
I draw in a deep breath as I turn my eyes toward hers. “Did you know what Mrs. Bradford was trying to do yesterday?”
She straightens her spine, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. The Newlywed Game. I’m getting married in a month. Married. And you should be supporting me, telling me how excited you are, not doing everything in your power to convince me it’s a bad idea.”
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” she asks, not answering my question.
“Of course not.” My response is quick. Perhaps a little too quick. “But it’s obvious you do. Why else would you concoct that game unless you wanted to remind me that I don’t know who Wes is? Don’t you think I already know that? I do! I get it. You think we’re rushing into this. And maybe we are. But you can support me at least.”
“I do support you, Brooklyn. And for the record, I honestly thought you’d know the answers to those questions. There was no ill-intent on my part. It’s all stuff I know about Noah. But maybe you should consider the fact you might be rushing into this. It’s obvious you don’t even know him. Not like you should if you’re willing to give him your future.”
“Wes said he doesn’t care about that stuff. And he’s right. A relationship isn’t built on knowing the other’s likes and dislikes. It’s built on love.”
“That’s true. And I’d gladly accept that if I were convinced you loved him.” She assesses me, her gaze unnerving. “I don’t think you do.”
I shoot to my feet, glaring at her, my mouth agape. “How could you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s true,” she responds, standing, her eyes fierce. “You may think you’re great at reading people, but so am I. I know what love looks like. I ran from it for years. Wes loves you. I’ll admit that.” She pauses, her lips pinching into a tight line. “But you don’t love him. There’s no spark, no gleam, no excitement. And I can’t understand why you would marry someone you don’t love.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head, tears welling behind my lids. I refuse to say the words, even though she’s right. You don’t need to be a genius to see my feelings for Wes aren’t as strong as they should be. But I appreciate him. I respect him. I admire him. Can’t that be enough for us? Can’t I learn to love him?
“Why?” she presses when I remain silent. “Why would you give up on the one thing you’ve always dreamed of?” Molly’s voice grows louder with e
ach word she speaks, leaning into me.
It doesn’t matter that I’m outside in the open air, acres upon acres of trees and space surrounding me. I feel trapped, the world closing in, suffocating me. We’re alone, but I feel the burn of a thousand eyes, threatening to expose the secret I’ve kept from everyone for years. There have been so many times I’ve almost told Molly everything, stopping at the last second. The pain of all those chances I gave him. The repeated rejections. The heart-shattering truth it’s taken me years to learn. I’ve kept it buried. I need it to stay buried, not resurrect it for all to see. Everyone has a chapter they don’t want to read out loud. Drew is mine.
“Why would you settle for anything less than what you deserve?” she continues. “What reason could you have for marrying someone who doesn’t make your heart do somersaults whenever you see him? Why, Brooklyn? Please, tell me why so I can understand what’s going on with you!”
Still vehemently shaking my head, I attempt to sidestep around her. “You’d never understand, Molly. You—”
“Just tell me!” she shrieks, gripping my biceps with a force I’m not expecting.
My face flames, all the stress, confusion, and despair that’s been building since I agreed to marry Wes reaching a boiling point. My muscles tense, my nostrils flare as the words slip out far too easily.
“Because I’m in love with Drew!” I shout, then gasp, covering my mouth, just as surprised by my revelation as Molly.
She stares at me with wide eyes, her jaw dropping as my words ring in the air. I’ve kept it in so long, refused to admit it, even with all her teasing and prodding over the years. I’ve always been able to remain firm, claim I value my friendship with her above everything. But that’s not the entire story. No one knows the entire story…even Drew.
“You mean you love him as friends, right? Like you’ve always said?”
I shake my head, collapsing onto one of the cement benches. “No, Molly. Not as a friend. I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been in love with him.”
She sits beside me, bringing her hand to my arm. I peer into her questioning eyes.
“But Drew doesn’t love me.” My voice shakes as I struggle to speak through the lump in my throat. It’s one thing to think those words. To say them out loud gives them meaning, a truth it’s time I learn to accept.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. He’s made that abundantly clear.”
“When? Did something happen at the museum?” she asks, then lowers her voice. “Was it because of Carla? Drew said you ran into her.”
I laugh sarcastically at the irony of her question, raising myself back to my feet. “It’s always been because of Carla.” I fight to stop my chin from quivering, the memories leaving me raw and gutted. “Or whatever other woman had his attention at the time. I just…” I inhale deeply, collecting my thoughts. “He never saw me, and it’s taken me years to finally wake up and realize it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.” I start back toward the house, wanting to get out of this place and turn back the clock to my younger days. There are so many things I’d do differently. I never would have given Drew my first kiss. I never would have allowed him to flirt with me over the years, to get my hopes up, only to have him forget about me the next day. And I never would have allowed a very drunk version of him into my bedroom seven years ago.
Molly grips my arm, preventing me from walking away. “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then what did Drew say to you?”
I snort a laugh. “It’s what he didn’t say, Molly. It’s what he never says.”
“Please, Brooklyn. I’m sick of all this talking in code bullshit. Just fucking tell me what happened, what Carla or Drew did to turn you into this.” She gestures at me, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“This?”
“Yes.” She straightens her spine. “This. This woman who, over the past few years, exhibited my friend less and less. This woman who used to believe in the concept of love so fiercely, she made me believe in it, too.” She pauses, her tone softening. “Do you remember what you said when I tried to deny I was falling for Noah?”
I blink, remaining mute.
“You said it was in our DNA to want to share our lives with someone, to fall in love, but not the kind of love I used to write about in my books. What did you call it?”
“The gritty kind of love,” I answer, my voice barely audible, worried she would hear my truth in them.
“That’s right, Brook. The kind of love you have to work for, that doesn’t come easily, that has absolutely zero resemblance to a fucking fairy tale. The love that hurts, rips out your soul, stomping on it and bringing you to the lowest of your lows. The old Brooklyn would have crossed oceans and climbed mountains to find that kind of love. Where did that girl go?”
“She was forced to realize it wasn’t in the cards for her to have what you have. Look at me, Molly.” I gesture at my tall body. “I’m not the type of girl a guy like Drew will ever love. You’ve seen the girls he’s dated, slept with. I’m not it. I’ll always just be his sister’s best friend. Nothing more.”
I wipe at the tears streaming down my face, surprised at my sudden candor with her. For the longest time, I put her needs ahead of my own, never wanting her to pry too much into my personal life. Now everything I’ve kept from her for years is spewing forth like molten lava, burning and destroying everything in its path…burning and destroying me.
“Yes, you are, Brooklyn,” she assures me with more compassion than I deserve, especially once she learns the truth. “You’re so much more than that. Drew loves you. I know it. I see it in his eyes. I can feel his heart breaking at the idea of you marrying someone else. If you’ll just give him a chance to prove this to you—”
“I did.”
Molly steps back, a blank look on her face. “When?”
I blow out a laugh at how stupid and naïve I’ve been. “So many times.”
“Give me an example.”
I zero in on her, studying her hardened stare. I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this. But I came here tonight to explain why marrying Wes is so important. This is a big part of that.
“One stands out, although I can bore you for hours with instances where Drew broke his promises me. But this one…” My voice wavers as I’m transported back to that night. “After finishing grad school, I was living with my dad so I could save money for my own place. I’d just dropped you off at your apartment from a night at the bars. When I was about to turn down the street, I saw Drew stumbling around the park. He could barely walk, and I was worried something would happen if I left him. I pretty much had to carry him to my car, which you can imagine was quite the feat with how tall and strong he is.
“I asked what he was doing back in the old neighborhood and that’s when he told me Carla had filed for a divorce. He didn’t know where else to go, so he went to the only place that felt like home. When I started to drive him to your dad’s place, he told me I was the only place that felt like home, that he was there to see me.”
I pause, leaving out the other things he said, namely how he wanted to make amends for standing me up the morning he left for college. I never told Molly about Drew being my first kiss. After the pain he caused, I didn’t want anyone to know, wanted to forget about it.
“I knew he was drunk and hurting so I shouldn’t believe a single word that came out of his mouth, but I wanted to.” I look to the sky, tears streaming down my cheeks, before returning my eyes to hers. “God, Molly. I’d been waiting years to hear him say something like that. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to watch him date woman after woman after woman, then learn he got married?”
Molly remains stunned mute by my story, the words I’ve been too scared to speak for years spilling forward.
“It was fucking torture. But what could I do? Tell him?” I swipe at my tears, wrapping my arm
s around my stomach. “He’d never choose me over the models he dated.”
“What happened?”
“He made so many promises, told me he loved me, how it’s only ever been me. We didn’t sleep together, as much as I wanted to. We did…other things. A lot of other things. Everything except…” My face heats from the memory alone, but I push it down. “He said he wanted to be sober when he made love to me.” The little composure I have left cracks, a new wave of tears spilling forward. I meet Molly’s eyes and repeat the words he said, as if it happened just days ago, not years. “Because, with me, it would be so much more than sex. I was stupid and believed him when I should have been smart enough to know they were just the drunken ramblings of a man scared of losing everything.”
She looks at me with an unfocused gaze. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t he say anything?”
A sudden chill envelopes me and I run my hands along my arms. “Because he doesn’t know.” I’m not sure what’s worse. The fact that I kept this from Molly…or from Drew.
Her eyes widen, her jaw becoming slack. “What? How?”
“He was drunk. Really drunk.”
Understanding washes over her expression. “And with his head injuries, excessive amounts of alcohol can severely impact his memory.”
I nod. “When I was making breakfast the next morning, I overheard him talking on the phone. A few things he said piqued my curiosity, so I crept down the hall and eavesdropped. I only heard his side of the conversation, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was talking to Carla, that she told him she was pregnant, that she wanted to work things out for their kids’ sakes. As much as I wanted to be angry, I couldn’t, not when he was trying to do right by Alyssa and the baby on the way. He finished the phone call, then came into the living room and looked at me with so much guilt. I wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. That’s when he said he couldn’t remember much of the night before and asked if we slept together. It was a logical assumption, I suppose, especially when you wake up in a girl’s bed. God, it hurt so much to know he couldn’t remember, to know I was that forgettable, even if there was a medical reason for it.”
Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire Page 112