Just thinking of Brody makes my heart hum in this delicious way. I make the pancakes I promised, texting him all the while.
He makes me smile. He makes me laugh. He makes me want to share everything with him … except the thoughts of Robert.
With a burst of courage, I ask him if he wants to go to lunch. It seems like the perfect way to mark the occasion, which is that we’re together. Together, together. I wonder if it’ll feel like a special occasion forever.
I hope it does.
Are you asking me out on a date? he texts and I huff a small laugh.
“What’s funny?” Bridget questions me, a chunk of pancake speared on her fork.
I wonder what she’ll think of him. There are so many obstacles still to come.
I’m going to take Bridget out, I message Brody. So it’ll be the three of us for lunch.
He was so careful around Bridget when I made lasagna. He was quiet, awkward even but then again, so was I. This morning enough weight has been lifted from my shoulders to step into the next part of this. Bridget needs time to meet her father and really get to know him, and Brody needs time with her too. Not with Renee and Griffin. Today is as good a day as any, if he’s up for it.
He’s more than up for it. Brody messages back without letting a second pass that of course, wherever we want to go is fine. There’s an undertone of affection with his message that heats up my chest. Taking my two ladies out to town sounds like the perfect way to spend the day.
We have a morning of cartoons during which my mind is occupied with a million possibilities, and then we pick out “almost matching” blue dresses to wear, according to Bridget. Technically she’s in a Snow White dress and I’m wearing a simple navy number, but I go along with what she says and we head downtown to meet Brody. The Blue Sail is a place we don’t go often, but I know Bridget loves the menu and they have little coloring books that will keep her butt in a seat longer than other places.
Normally, I have to eat quickly, but for this … I want us to have time.
My heart picks up the moment I see him, as if it’s racing me to the restaurant. Brody is waiting for us out front on the sidewalk in a pair of jeans and a white button-down that makes his tanned skin seem even tanner. The sight of him makes my heart go pitter-patter. He has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and looks so perfectly casual and strong. Stubble that leaves a light burn on my skin when we kiss covers his chin.
But the best part is the way his whole face lights up when he sees us. “You look beautiful.” He bends down and kisses my cheeks, and Bridget pulls on my hand.
“Am I beautiful?” she chimes in, twisting on her feet a bit.
Brody’s eyes go wide. “The most beautiful little princess I’ve ever seen.”
Brody’s eyes follow every movement of her face as Bridget lifts a pudgy hand to touch his chin. “You’re poky.” She scrunches up her nose and he laughs. His laugh makes her smile, her biggest grin, and the three of us go into the restaurant floating on that feeling.
It’s just too good to be true. Nervousness makes me feel like the other shoe is bound to drop.
It gets more real as we take a booth in the front. Bridget tucks herself in by my side and Brody sits across from us. “My mom’s headed to the airport today.” Brody looks into my eyes although his fingers fidget with the napkin wrapped around the silverware, and I see more of that guarded longing. He wants this as much as I do. “She’ll want to meet Bridget before she goes.”
My heart slams up into my throat. It’s nerve wracking, getting what you want. It’s painful and strange and exciting. Being with Brody is going to mean letting new people into Bridget’s life, starting today. “Did you tell her?”
“Not yet, but I want to ask her to come down later … if you’re all right with that.”
Before I can answer, he stumbles over his next words. “I just feel like it wouldn’t be right to not tell her.”
“Of course,” I reply, but I have to clear my throat and repeat myself. “Of course she can come.” At that moment, Bridget drops a sugar packet and I bend to pick it up, taking a moment to calm myself down as he texts his mother.
The anxiousness is in full force, my nerves running a mile a minute.
The waitress swings by and drops menus onto the edge of the table. “Can I get everybody something to drink?”
“Chocolate milk for this one,” I answer automatically, “and an iced tea for me, please.” Brody orders a Coke, and when the waitress bustles away I turn back to him and tuck an arm around Bridget.
“Where did you want your mom to meet her?” I ask him, barely able to breathe at the thought. I’m caught up in him. I’m caught up in them … adding another person, another change. It feels so fast.
“Down here?”
“Down to where?” My mind’s not fully grasping what he’s saying.
“To here, the restaurant. She already ate, or—”
Oh, no. “Did you already eat?” I say, cutting him off without meaning to. The rain-washed feeling from this morning is wearing off. Couples talk over each other and negotiate and screw up. It’s one thing to fantasize about a person. It’s another thing to be muddling through a shared life with them. Then again, Brody is a fantasy all by himself.
His expression turns sheepish. “I ate, but—”
“I’m sorry. If I’d known—”
“Like I was going to say no.” His smirk is comforting. “You can relax, I can always eat.” He reaches across the table and his strong hand covers mine. Brody’s skin is always warm, and I can feel the calluses left from his years of hard work. “I’ve been dying to see you guys anyway.” He pauses and seems to consider something before adding, “Any time I can get with her, really. I know I’ve missed a lot and I don’t know the best way …”
His voice trails off and I don’t know the right words either, but I know what he’s getting at so I simply answer, “I know.”
The waitress comes by again and this time she drops a paper place mat with a bucket of crayons and a sheet of stickers for Bridget. My baby girl is up on her knees right away, digging through the bucket and picking out her favorites. She’s so serious about it. Her tongue sticks out from between her teeth as she draws. Her scribbles are serious art and the stickers, she says, are the price tags. “I could sell that in the gallery,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head.
Brody watches her color with the same attentiveness he had the other night. I’m caught off guard when he asks, “You think she’ll call me Dad?”
My throat goes tight with emotion, but the rest of my body goes stiff. I’ve been responsible for keeping Bridget safe since the day she was born. Since before she was born, actually. I don’t know why Brody’s question makes that protective instinct flare up in me.
Well … yes I do. It’s because I know how it feels to have a man walk out of your life. On top of that, I know how it feels to have your own dad turn out to be a totally different person than you thought he was. I don’t want that for Bridget.
His baby blue eyes stare back at me, vulnerable and sincere. My heart pounds, reminding me of what’s between us and that even if it’s scary, that raging storm and chaos I feel around him is because I’m falling for him. I have fallen for him already.
Love is scary. But if another person can love my daughter the way I do, I want that for her.
I take a deep breath to calm the pounding in my veins. “She’s your daughter, so … whatever you like.”
“I’ll leave it up to her.” Brody clears his throat, and I can see him trying to keep his emotions in check. She is his baby girl too, and he’s missed out on most of her life so far. We’re just out to lunch at a restaurant I’ve been to a hundred times, but this time is different. It has a feeling to it that I can’t place. It’s hard to breathe, wanting everything to go perfectly.
Bridget sticks her tongue between her lips and blows a raspberry.
“Bridgey,” I scold, laughing. “Not in the restaurant.�
�
She giggles at me, tossing her head back which makes her laugh sound even louder. I catch Brody’s eye over her head. He doesn’t hold my gaze for very long because he’s too busy looking at her. Our daughter. I’m not sure why I tense up when he inches closer to connecting with Bridget. The truth is that she wouldn’t exist without him. If I hadn’t met this gorgeous stranger in the bar that night, I wouldn’t have my Bridget.
Bridget draws a fat red line across her paper. Her head pops up, and I know instantly she wants Brody’s approval.
“What do you think?”
“It’s stunning,” he says with his brow raised and then smiles back at her. It’s almost overwhelming how natural it feels.
“Are you ready to order?” Margorie, our waitress with tight red curls, startles me and Brody smiles at my yelp. His laid-back attitude eases something in me.
I let out a small laugh and nod. “I think we’re ready. You?”
“Yeah,” Brody agrees, “we’re ready.”
Scanning us all carefully, probably for tidbits of gossip, the waitress leans in and takes our order.
As soon as she’s gone again, Brody settles back into his seat. “Is mac and cheese her favorite?”
“Always. Anything pasta,” I answer him.
“I love berries too. Strawberries,” she says with a little kid slur. “Blueberries, raspberries.”
“Yes, she does,” I say and nod in agreement, smiling at my little girl.
“Berries, got it. What else should I know?” he asks her, genuinely engaging her in conversation and I can’t help how I feel. I love him even more.
So many things had to happen for the two of us to be sitting across from each other in this booth.
It’s beginning to feel like it was supposed to happen this way with Brody. We had to meet in the bar by chance that night four years ago. I had to make my way back home to this town. And he had to make his way here too.
It’s not until our meals are here that I ask him a question I’ve been wondering since the moment I saw him on the patio at Charlie’s Bar and Grill weeks ago. “What made you come here?”
Brody rubs his knuckles against his chest, a sad smile curving his lips. “My grandfather talked about this place. He …” His sentence trails off, but he might as well have continued speaking for all the love in his voice. “I liked to listen to his stories, and he mentioned it one time. Visiting the places he talked about makes it feel like he’s still close by. Plus, Griffin grew up near here, so it was a bit of a homecoming for him too.”
Tears sting my eyes and emotions swell like the tide coming in. Brody and I have had threads connecting us running through our lives for longer than we’ve known. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that we ended up here together. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” Brody tells me, a half grin on his face like this is no big deal. Like our lives aren’t changed forever … and for the first time in so long, for the better.
Magnolia
I can’t say it surprises me when Brody doesn’t want our lunch date to end. He has asked Bridget practically a million questions, and she’s asked him that same number times two.
By the time we finish our lunch, followed by root beer floats —a true treat for my little one — Bridget is on his side of the booth. She draws something unrecognizable, saying it’s Kitty’s house, shows it off to him, then colors some more. It’s a dream come true, seeing them together like that. Father and daughter sit side by side. Brody is a strong, calm presence, and Bridget is light and free.
This is how it’s supposed to be. I still have that feeling, though, like the other shoe is going to fall.
I’m also far too aware that his mother is going to come by at some point.
“We should probably get going,” he comments, checking his phone after paying the bill. I wish I could see the texts, my curiosity rampant at wondering what his mother is like … it’s all so nerve wracking.
“She should be here soon, though.” He swallows thickly.
“How soon?”
“Like an hour?” he guesses.
“We don’t have to go home,” I proclaim, needing fresh air myself.
“She could meet us at the park?” I offer and he nods away, texting his mother to do just that.
It’s then that I get a message, and then another.
“Brody, how about you and Bridget head to the playground for a bit?” There’s a small, but really nice playground next to the public library just down the block. Bridget likes to play there when I have time, which hasn’t been often enough lately.
“Just us?” he questions and I don’t know if there’s a sense of fear there or surprise.
“I’ll stand back a bit … I have a little something to do, if you don’t mind. And it’ll let you have a moment with her,” I tell him although it comes out as half a question.
“You’d be okay with that?” Brody arches an eyebrow at me, looking so hopeful it squeezes my heart. “What is it you need to do?”
There is something important I need to do. If there’s anything my life has taught me, it’s not to leave things unresolved with people. That’s a good recipe for losing them entirely.
“I think I have something I have to tell someone,” I say and then close my eyes, hating that for even a second I considered keeping it from Brody. My fingernails dig into my palm and I swallow down the fear of what being honest could do to us. “I want to reach out to—”
“Robert?” he guesses and although there’s a flash of uncertainty in his gaze, when I nod, he nods in return.
“Is it okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I get it,” he answers and those nervous butterflies rev up in the pit of my stomach. He doesn’t ask me what I need to say. He doesn’t ask me anything at all.
“It shouldn’t take long. If you’re up for this, I mean. If you’re not—”
“I am.” He cuts me off with a masculine confidence that sends shivers down my spine. Brody pulls back, his face softening. “I mean, I’m more than good. What do you like to do at the playground, Bridget? Swings? Merry-go-round?”
“Swings,” she tells him, abandoning her crayons on the table in front of her. “I want to go on the swings.”
“It’s settled, then.” We make our way out of the restaurant and into the golden afternoon sunlight. It’s one of my most favorite times of day, when there’s still enough daylight left for seemingly infinite possibilities. I pull Bridget in for a hug. “Go to the playground and have fun, okay? I’ll be right there.”
Bridgey squirms out of my arms and goes straight to Brody. He laughs, surprised, but he holds her hand like he’s done it for years. “Tell your mama goodbye.” He can’t wipe the grin off his face when he says the words. His voice brings a new depth to them.
My daughter waves to me and twists in Brody’s grip. “Playground,” she says. “I want to go on the swings.”
“Your wish is my command,” Brody tells her, and he swings her up onto his shoulders. Oh, goodness. Maybe I should buy stock in tissues. I could cry all the happy tears right now.
I watch Brody and Bridget walk away together until they cross the street, and then I pull out my phone. The answer doesn’t take long to come.
Robert’s waiting for me at the corner of the park ten minutes later. He looks put together and professional, the way he always does when he’s working. This is who Robert is. He drops everything to meet me whenever I ask him.
“Hey, Mags.” He greets me with his hands in his pockets, a nervous look in his gaze. “I’m surprised you wanted to talk.”
“I couldn’t leave things with you the way we left them the other night. Not after everything we’ve shared.”
Cool breezes move under the canopy of leaves that haven’t already started to turn to shades of auburn, surrounding us like an old friend. We’ve stood here so many times before. “I wanted to say—”
Robert cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Let me go first. There’s�
�there’s something I need to get off my chest.”
Emotions threaten to overwhelm me again, bumping together until they’re tough to name. Fear at what he might say. Sorrow that it didn’t work between us after all. I’m grateful we’re having this conversation. I’m relieved and nervous all at once.
“I didn’t want to break up with you.” Robert looks me square in the eye.
“What?” I can’t disguise the surprise in my tone.
He continues. “Back then, when it all …”
I try to stop him, his name a plea on my lips, but he says, “Please, I just have to tell you.”
With a nod of understanding, I let him get out what he wants, and then I’ll get out what I need to.
“It was my father’s idea. He stood over me while I was on the phone with you to make sure I didn’t back out. And Mags, I shouldn’t have. I should have told you beforehand that it wasn’t me, and I didn’t want it.”
My throat goes so tight it aches, remembering how it felt to have that call years ago but I swallow down the urge to become emotional. I’ve had enough of that already.
“I’m not sure what I should say.” Comforting him still feels like the right thing to do, but I’m not sure if I’m the right person to do it.
“You don’t have to say anything, Mags,” Robert tells me, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted you to know.”
Anger tightens my chest. Or is it just sadness that we couldn’t have been more honest before?
“I have something to get off my chest too,” I admit to him. “You knew you weren’t Bridget’s father. You never told me, and you know I spent so many nights—”
He looks away. “You don’t understand, I didn’t want it to be true.”
“Didn’t want what to be true?” I get that he must’ve been hurt, but it’s no excuse. Frustration rises up in me and I take a deep breath to try and calm it down. “Explain it to me. I’m here to listen.”
He runs both hands down his face and drops them back to his sides. “You weren’t supposed to come back,” Robert clarifies. “That week, when things were exposed, you weren’t supposed to be here.”
Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose Book 2) Page 15