I remind him, “We did.”
“Peeking in the window so you could check in on her does not count.” He adds, “Chicken,” complete with a deadpan look.
Clearing my throat, I remind him that she told me it was fine not to come and that she’d be busy. I got back into town early this morning and slept most of the day away, so everything here was behind schedule. Still … he’s right, we could have dropped in for at least a look around, but the damn place was crowded.
“She’ll be here,” I repeat.
“The gala ended close to an hour ago,” is Griffin’s rebuttal.
“They said they’d be here,” I tell him to soothe his nerves, but I might as well be talking to a mirror. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m nervous to see them too. I thought for a half second earlier Magnolia would walk in while my mother was here, checking out the place. My own nerves were shot to hell at the thought of them bumping into each other. Obviously I knew that wasn’t possible, since I was stuck here setting up and she was handling her business down the way.
There’s a popular alternative station booming from the newly installed speakers, the ever-thickening crowd is chatting while drinking and we’ve got a bonfire in the back that most of the town seems to be drawn to. I’m surprised it all got approved so easily. Even the bonfire, which Griffin was worried about because of some law down here about open burning and recreational fires. With every mention of a paper that needed to be filled out, all I could hear was Robert’s threat about how he’s taking Magnolia away from me. Even if she says otherwise. The more I think about those two, the more Magnolia’s resistance to me makes sense.
She loves him.
The unsettling feeling at that thought forces me to adopt Griffin’s bad habit.
Tap, tap, tap. Our fingers don’t quit fidgeting. Even as an older gentleman tips his hat to us before starting a conversation about the menu of the bar and how we should use local vendors, my thumb carries on in time with the beat of the music.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Griffin says, maintaining the conversation well enough without me doing much of anything but nodding along.
My gaze is focused past the man’s jean jacket to the sidewalk where crowds come and go. The weather’s perfect, the atmosphere is just right, the beer’s damn good, and the town’s filtering in, making itself right at home for a night out in our bar.
But one thing, one woman, is missing.
As if on cue, her sweet voice comes from behind me and breaks up the conversation. “There you are.” Turning on my heel, I catch sight of Magnolia.
She must’ve come in through the back.
The cream silk top flows loosely down her front until it meets a high-waisted, pleated navy skirt. Her smile is shy as she tucks a strand of her hair, loose from the updo she’s got it in, behind her ear. The perfect accessory isn’t those fuck me heels she’s wearing, it’s the blush that creeps up her cheeks when she sees me. It does something to me, something soothing, yet enthralling at the same time.
She may have loved Robert once but, at the very least, she wants me right now.
“There you are,” I say, giving her those words right back to her and she brightens, her simper blooming into a full-blown grin.
She’s like sunshine. I remember thinking that years ago, when I was waiting at the bar but she never came. It was like I had a taste of sunshine for a single night. Since then it’s been only gray skies until recently.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she says and her statement is tinged with a shy nervousness. Even her smile that I love so much wavers. I don’t like the feeling it gives me.
Before I can even say hello to Renee beside her, Griffin’s already directing her to the bar. He didn’t waste any time at all. Judging by her smirk, Renee doesn’t mind in the slightest.
Although she glances at Magnolia, who nods slightly, as if it’s a covert signal, before allowing Griffin to lead the way away from us.
Again, that nagging feeling that something’s off comes back.
“Everything go as planned tonight?”
“Yeah,” she answers while glancing down at her hands. Her fingers wring around one another. It reminds me of how she was that night four years ago.
Some things are the same about her, while others are different … and I’ve fallen for both versions.
“We swung by earlier,” I admit to her and her blue eyes widen like she’s sorry she didn’t see us when she asks, “You did?”
“We didn’t go inside to say hello. Griffin wanted—”
She waves off my apology before I can even finish. “Don’t be,” she says, breathing out and a soft blush rises to her cheeks. It’s accompanied by a nervous huff and a seemingly forced smile.
“You all right?” I ask her, feeling the slight chill of the night. With the front doors wide open, the breeze blows in easily enough. Most of the crowd has filtered to the back, where the bonfire is raging and the makeshift dance floor is packed.
It’s then I notice the goosebumps on Magnolia’s arms. I wish I had a jacket to offer her. Thinking of the setup I have in the back, maybe I’ve got something better.
“I have to tell you something.” Magnolia’s ever-sweet simper fades and as her lips part, I stop her.
“Let’s go to my office so I can hear you.”
Biting down on her lower lip, she nods as I wrap my arm around her waist. It feels right there, and as she walks close to me, I savor the feel of her warmth.
“That’s something I never thought I’d say,” I add in an attempt to ease whatever is bothering her.
“What?”
“My office,” I clarify.
A genuine smile lights up her face, but it only lasts a moment as I lead her through the crowd to the back. If she cares about anyone seeing us, she doesn’t let it show. As I take a second look at her, I note that she doesn’t seem to see them at all. Whatever she’s thinking about has my girl in her own little world.
When I shut the door with a soft click, the music still filters through but it’s quieter back here and warmer. The cameras are all set up so I can see if anyone comes down the slim hall to get back here.
I lock the door to make sure no one interrupts her and then I think maybe I should ask her if she minds, but she’s busy admiring the barely furnished office.
The walls are devoid of decoration and it still smells like fresh paint. The closet door opens with a creak and I pull out a blanket, laying it down on the floor.
Besides the expensive-ass desk, there are only two cheap foldout steel chairs in the corner of the room. When I reach for the two glasses, my heart races. It’s not much. Just a cozy blanket and champagne. I thought maybe no one from the town would bother to show and we could head out back, enjoy the fire together. It’s insanity that the idea of no one coming didn’t matter when I came up with this plan.
“I love the floors,” Magnolia says and then turns, finally seeing the blanket as I pop open the bottle. “I don’t think I told you.” Her last words escape one by one, each one slower than the last.
Her fingers play with the ends of her hair. I’ve noticed it’s a nervous habit of hers.
“A glass to celebrate,” I say and lick my lower lip, pausing to remember how I was going to say it. Celebrate her success, my success … But more so to celebrate us. The way shock stays on her expression and the happiness I thought would light her eyes is absent keeps those words from coming.
“Thanks,” she replies and a nervous prick tickles the back of my throat. I clear it before pouring us each a glass. It fizzes just right.
“I’m always open to decorating advice if you have any,” I offer, feeling my heartbeat pick up. That same nervousness that I’m going to lose her before we even get started clings to me as I offer her my hand to sit and then take my place beside her.
Tucking her skirt under her, she backs up to lean against the wall.
“Is this all right?” I ask her and she only nods. Both of he
r hands are wrapped around that glass like she’s holding on to it for dear life.
There’s something off. I know it. A crease settles in her brow before she says again that she has something to tell me, not taking a sip of the champagne.
I swear I can hear her heart pounding even though I’m a good two feet away from her. My first thought is that it has to do with the paternity test, but I would get those results same as she would and my phone hasn’t gone off to notify me that I got an email.
She makes me nervous. No woman has ever gotten to me the way Magnolia does.
I blurt out, “Why does it feel like you’re breaking up with me?”
“You didn’t say I was your girlfriend,” she says nearly defensively, but not quite. It’s more with a knowing sadness and I hate it. Is that what’s bothering her?
“You want me to put a label on it?” I nearly offer up the second option, “Or do you want to wait until the results come in?”, but I swallow the words down. Damn do they taste bitter.
“Do you?” she asks back, but then shakes her head, gripping the edge of her chair and a seriousness playing on her expression. “I have to tell you something first.”
“What’s that?” The second I ask, a somber air takes over and I can’t fucking stand being so far away from her. She parts her lips, heaving in a deep breath, but I stop her. “Hold that thought.”
I scoot closer to her, setting my glass on the floor and leaving it there. Then I lean forward and when I’m close enough, I brush my lips against hers in a peck of a kiss.
I know I have her when she tilts up her head, accepting it and then deepening it. When I pull back, her eyes are still closed, like she’s still living in that moment.
She doesn’t dare open them, even when she whispers something that tears at my insides. “I’m scared you aren’t going to want me.”
“Of course I want you.”
“Not when—”
She starts to say something but I cut her off, hating the way her insecurity makes me feel. “What does your heart want?” I know what mine wants. I want her. Exactly how she is. I don’t give a damn if it’s not perfect like love is in the movies. Or if she had something going on with Robert and he thinks he has some claim to her. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.
“To be happy and to make sure my little girl is happy and loved.”
“If I’m her dad, I’ll be here for her to make sure she’s happy.” If I’m her dad … The second statement of the night I never thought I’d utter.
“And if you’re not?” she asks softly, her eyes finally opening. She swallows thickly and before she can repeat herself, I answer honestly. It’s something that’s kept me up at night, thinking that maybe I’m wrong, and Bridget isn’t mine.
“I’ll be here.” I strengthen my voice and add, “I’m not leaving.”
“Let me—” she stops and starts to put her glass down, like it overwhelms her that I admitted I want to be there regardless. Hell, her insecurity is contagious. It creeps up on me. “I have to tell you something and you’re probably going to hate me for it.”
It’s not just that she frowns or that her voice hitches with anxiousness. It’s the look in her eyes. There’s fear and sadness and she’s looking at me like that’s what she expects from me. As if I’d ever want anything other than to see her smile.
“There’s nothing you could say—”
“I slept with Robert.”
Magnolia
“I slept with him … last night.” The confession burns its way through me and there’s not an ounce of relief once it’s spoken. I feel like I could both cry and die at the same time.
No man has ever owned my emotions like he does. There’s an intense fear of disappointing him or hurting him, a fear of losing him that I can’t escape.
Brody’s silent at first, taking a moment to absorb what I just said. All the while I shrink down in size. Not because I’m ashamed of sleeping with two men, but because I’m worried that doing so hurt him.
I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It’s been one reckless moment after another. “I’m sorry.”
The small office feels hot in an instant. I keep reminding myself that I made my bed and I’m happy to lie in it, but without Brody giving me any kind of signal about how he feels, I’m dying inside.
“Can I be honest?” Brody asks and every red alert goes off as the anxious heat rises, and I prepare myself for whatever he has in store for me.
“Of course.”
There’s no judgment in his tone, only sincerity when he says, “I know you and him have something going on and—”
Cutting Brody off, I explain, “We have for years.” All the memories bombard me. My exhale is shaky and I run my hands through my hair. “I didn’t mean to last night, and I know since you’ve ... been here … I’ve felt torn.”
“Torn.” He repeats that word, his gaze penetrating mine, holding me hostage.
“Yes,” I answer softly.
“Because you love him?” he questions and I nod.
“I love him but in a way where I want him to be happy. I want him to be loved. I just know I’m not that person.”
“Cause he broke your heart?”
“No. It’s not that. It’s just ... I don’t see myself with him for always. I don’t see myself growing old with him. But I still want that for him.”
“But you also … feel something for me too?” he asks and there’s a hopeful spark in his eyes. It threatens to give me relief.
Again, I nod and whisper my answer.
“What are you and Robert?” he asks carefully and then reaches for his champagne. I didn’t give him a moment to toast in celebration. His gaze drops for a moment, but rises with more hunger and seriousness than it had before. His fingers play at the rim of the champagne glass.
“We’ve always been good friends,” I start, then pause to take in a deep, steadying breath.
“Could that be all you two will be?”
“Just friends?” I clarify and as he nods, he swallows, the cords of his neck tightening. There’s a heated tension between us as I pick up my champagne glass too and take a sip before answering honestly, “Yes.”
“What happened last night?”
“It’s complicated.” I wish I could tell him everything, but no one in this town knows what Robert’s mother is going through. “It’s not all my story to tell,” I add.
“You could let me in, you know?”
“I want to,” I admit to him and a wave of longing meets something else inside of me. This deep-seated fear that I’m already in too deep with Brody. It’s hot and burns me from the inside out. I’m ready to give my love, all of it, to one man and the truth is, I trust Brody to take my heart fully, but once I give it to him, I don’t know what will become of it if he were ever to give it back.
“So you slept with him?” Brody asks like it’s a casual conversation and not our hearts on the line.
My throat’s tight as I nod.
“And he knows … he knows we …?” He leaves the bit about the two of us being intimate unspoken.
“He does, yes.” I’m quick to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It wasn’t about us and—”
“I want to call you Rose so bad right now,” he says, cutting me off and then huffs a small laugh, repositioning on the blanket next to me so he’s closer and leans against the wall.
“Rose?”
“Because there’s so much about you that’s the same since that night I met you.” His nostalgic comment is warm and calms me slightly. “We weren’t in a committed, monogamous relationship. I didn’t put a label on it, as you pointed out.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“I could never hate you. And it’s easy to see you have feelings for him, since you two have history … but he knows I want you, and you know I want you. I don’t give a damn who you’ve been with before tonight, but I want you all to myself.” A vulnerability shines in his doe eyes. �
��Are you good with that? That you’re my girlfriend. And mine alone.”
I nearly tell him I love him. I catch the words on their way up my throat and nearly choke on them. My smile hides behind the champagne glass as I take a gulp, but he must see it because he smiles broadly at the sight of me.
“I take it that’s a yes?” he says, toying with me.
“Yes. I’d like to be your girlfriend,” I answer him and my shoulders relax, my heart seems to dance in my chest and everything feels lighter at the thought. It feels right.
“How many men have you been with?” he asks me and I know I must turn fire-engine red given the heat that floods my cheeks.
“Two.” I don’t expect the shock that widens his eyes. “I’m a bit sheltered.”
“A bit?” he jokes and I have to laugh at his expression before leaning into him. He takes a sip of champagne and then wraps his arm around my waist, bringing me in closer to him. He’s warm and I lay my cheek on his shoulder.
“So let’s just take it easy and slow then,” he suggests.
My comment has more to do with what I have to tell Robert than it does with Brody, but it comes nonetheless, “None of this feels easy.”
“It feels easy for me when I’m with you,” he says and his admission is accompanied by a warmth that flows through my chest. “I think when you let me kiss you … it’s easy for you, isn’t it?”
With my hand resting against his knee, my thumb rubbing back and forth along his jeans, I confess, “Yes. It’s all easy when you kiss me.”
“Let me take over then,” he whispers and closes his eyes, leaning forward for a kiss.
“Wait,” I say, barely getting out the word, remembering it was only one night ago that I was with Robert. Brody’s eyes stare back at me, his body still as I tell him, “It’s inappropriate.”
A beat passes, only a single one before Brody lifts his lips in an asymmetric smile that puts me at ease, while simultaneously lighting my entire being on fire. “What part of me loving on my girlfriend is inappropriate?” he questions and my heart flutters like I’ve never felt. His gaze turns hot as he shifts me beneath him, his hand splayed on my back.
Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose Book 2) Page 11