He finally sat again. “I’m waiting.”
She scooted her chair close enough that she never had to let go of his hand. “When we were growing up, Jaycie always wanted to be the princess, trapped in the tower, waiting for her prince.”
“Bullshit.” Despite his scowl, Ethan looked more relaxed than before.
“It’s true.” Jaycie checked the steaks and turned them. “The wicked witch had kidnapped me and was holding me hostage, and once my knight showed up, we’d fight our way out, side by side.”
Ethan almost smiled. “That, I believe.”
“And?” Brad still didn’t get the point. It was a cute story, but it wasn’t funny, and he didn’t see how it was relevant.
Gwen squeezed his hand. “I always used to ask Jaycie, why wait for the knight? If she could fight her way out, she should just do it.”
“And my counter was that I couldn’t do it alone.”
“But I always thought she was wrong. Never understood why she had to wait.”
“Ha.” Jaycie’s exclamation caught Brad off guard, making him jump. “I knew it.”
“I still don’t get it,” Brad said.
“We’re sitting here, watching the two of you thump your chests like cavemen.” Gwen met his gaze. “Ethan’s doing it because—I assume—Jaycie had problems with a stalker, and they both walked away with a few bruises before the guy was arrested, so he’s a little protective. But you…” A tiny smile played on her face. “You’re doing it for me.”
“Of course I am.”
“And it makes me realize Jaycie was right, way back when we were kids. Sometimes it’s nice to have a handsome knight fighting for me and beside me.”
Brad adored the way she phrased that. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He kissed her fingertips.
“You still need to watch yourself”—most of the animosity had vanished from Ethan’s voice—“or Gwen’ll kick your ass.”
“My favorite game so far, is a 3D fighter from Japan. The new Guardians of the Arena.” Jaycie’s sharp tone implied she wanted to move on
Brad knew the previous matter wasn’t completely resolved, but maybe now grievances were aired, he could try and get along with these people. Besides, this was what he hoped for. A topic he could pick up and run with. “I know the game. We just announced a contract with the license owners for an entire line based on the character’s outfits.”
Jaycie turned her attention from cooking long enough to meet his gaze. “Ooh. Are doing anything with Sayuri’s outfit?”
“It depends on what inspires Tori and what the client requests. I can point them in that direction.”
“Either that, or if Tori takes commissions, I need to talk to her, because Ethan—”
“La-la-la.” Gwen covered her ears loosely as she chanted, smiling the entire time. “No kink conversations at dinner. That’s the rule.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jaycie ducked back behind the grill. “I’ll wait until after desert to get details from you, then.”
Brad relaxed as the conversation progressed. As dinner was served, and the evening wore on, he couldn’t ignore the nagging question in the back of his head. How much was this going to hurt both him and Gwen, if the lie of the engagement clashed with the reality of what he felt for her?
Chapter Fourteen
Gwen felt like a giddy girl, unable to sit still before her date. Since it was a Monday, she couldn’t find enough to occupy her time, and arrived at the café early, where she was meeting Brad for lunch. She grabbed a table for them outside, and sipped her iced tea while she tried to convince herself she wasn’t watching the parking lot.
It had been a couple of days since dinner with Jaycie and Ethan, and what started out as a potential disaster of an evening, ending on a lovely note. Or rather, once her friends went home, the night carried on for a few more hours, with a few very vocal notes involved. It made her grateful she didn’t have shared walls, and neighbors who would bitch about her being too loud during sex.
Since then, she and Brad had spent most of their non-working time together. She could admit she was hooked.
When his familiar car turned into the parking lot, her pulse kicked up a notch. When he got out of the vehicle, a women stepped from the passenger side, and Gwen’s gut lurched. She didn’t like the instinct, but couldn’t squelch it.
Brad grinned as they approached, soothing her a tad. When he leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips before saying anything else, the rest of Gwen’s apprehension vanished.
The woman with him cleared her throat. He straightened, and nodded to her. “Gwen, this is my sister, Tori.”
Which would explain why she looked like him. Duh. Gwen shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same.” Tori took her seat.
Brad sat next to Gwen. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. She stopped by the office early, we’ve got a meeting this afternoon, and she’s been asking me to introduce you two.”
“I don’t mean to intrude.” Tori fiddled with the hem of her shorts, rather than making eye contact.
The contrast between their behaviors was almost startling. “It’s not an issue.” The truth of Gwen’s reassurance sank in. It was actually a bit of a relief. She knew from Brad’s stories he was close to Tori, and if he was okay with them meeting, it was a pleasant confirmation he was as happy with Gwen as she was with him.
Brad’s phone rang, and he grabbed for it without hesitation. He frowned when he checked the screen. “Drea’s school. I need to take this.”
“Absolutely.” Tori’s concerned expression matched his.
“Hello? Hey, hon. Are you all right?” Brad’s tone shifted to sympathetic.
Gwen wasn’t sure what was appropriate in a case like this. She didn’t want to eavesdrop on a call with who she assumed was his daughter, but as a good fiancée, she should be as drawn in as they were. And she was, she realized. Concern gnawed her gut, not just for Brad, but for Drea.
“For Astronauts’ Club? I thought Mom had you covered…. No, I know. No one’s to blame, things happen… Of course. I’ll be there after school, and I’ll have something for you… It’s a surprise. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He pocketed his phone with a quiet, “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Tori asked.
“Her Astronauts’ Club is holding a bake sale this afternoon, to raise money for season planetarium passes for the kids. Emily promised to make something, and she called the school about half an hour ago to tell them she couldn’t after all. Drea needs cookies or something in the next couple of hours.”
“Figures. God, can’t that woman be counted on for anything?” The quiet Tori who sat down at the start of lunch was gone, replaced with a scowling, irritated individual. “Is there any way I can help?”
“No. That’s the last thing the kids need, is food poisoning.” He managed a smile.
Tori slapped his arm playfully. “Jerk.”
The simple exchange settled into Gwen, leaving her with an empty ache for the relationship she used to share with George. She shoved the past aside. This was now, and she could help. As long as it didn’t mean drawing herself into Drea’s life. She and Brad still hadn’t dealt with how that was supposed to work, and she wasn’t ready to be a step-mom. Step-girlfriend? Was that a thing?
“I could ask Archer.” Tori reached for her phone.
Brad seemed to consider it for a moment. “He makes that Japanese stuff, right? I appreciate the thought, but I don’t know how well that’ll go over with a bunch of fourth graders. Acquired taste and all that.”
“I’ll handle it.” Gwen couldn’t keep quiet anymore. She needed a way to fill her afternoon anyway. “I’ll make cupcakes, and I’ll meet you in front of the school, and hand them off. I don’t have to stick around or anything.”
“Why wouldn’t you stick around?” Tori asked.
No answer flew to Gwen’s mind. Why had she said that?
“She’s meeting with a wedding planner.”
Brad’s response spilled out in a single word.
“Why are you, mister hands-on-with-everything hiring a wedding planner?”
“I’m not.” If Brad was flustered by the questions, he didn’t hesitate. The smooth answers were scary impressive. “A friend recommended her, and we’ve got to at least give it a try.”
Tori furrowed her brow as she studied him. “Since when do you do anything for show? Why didn’t you just tell her no?”
“Since when do you push back so hard?” Brad countered.
Tori stuck her tongue out. “Fine. I’ll drop it.”
The back and forth wasn’t as lighthearted as the previous one, and neither sibling smiled as big as before. Gwen sidestepped the awkwardness. “How many cupcakes does she need?”
“Four dozen. I can’t ask you to do that, though. I’ll call a bakery.”
“No.” Gwen shook her head. “I’ve got it, I promise. Text me her school address, and what time to meet you there, and I’ll take care of the rest, I promise. No arguments.”
Brad’s demeanor returned to pleasant. “Yes, Ma’am. And thank you.” He reached across the table and squeezed her fingers, and a pleasant rush flowed over her skin. It was a simple gesture, but so natural. She was definitely hooked on Brad.
****
When Brad’s weekend with the court-appointed observer rolled around, he and Gwen decided it would be better if they stayed at their own places the night before. The suggestion sank heavy in Gwen’s limbs, and she struggled to understand her reaction. They spent half their nights without each other, and she understood his reasoning, but the reminder this was one of the biggest parts of the show gnawed at her.
She had to have someone else watch the diner for her, something she’d never done on a Saturday before. This was important, though. She stopped by long enough to grab lunch, like she and Brad had discussed, and then headed to his condo. The carefully orchestrated plan had her arriving at his place by noon, and she pulled into his visitor parking spot right on time.
He greeted her at the door and gave her the most wooden peck on the cheek they’d ever exchanged. So much for looking natural. “Gwen, this is Ms. Miller. No first name, apparently.” His joke sounded light, but she heard the strain in his words.
The woman—probably only a few years older than Gwen—gave her a brief smile. “Pretend I’m not here.”
Right. Because that was an option.
“Gwen.” Drea’s excited shout cut through the molasses of tension. The girl skipped across the room, grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside. “Is that lunch? I’m hungry, and Dad said we couldn’t eat until you got here.”
Gwen set the bag of food on the table. “Yup. I even brought macaroni and cheese.”
“The cupcakes the other day were so good. Everyone said they were the best. Thank you for those. Did you make this yourself too?”
“Err… no. But my cook makes the best mac and cheese on the planet.”
Drea poked at the plastic bag and lifted a couple of the boxes. “There’s no milkshakes.”
“Those don’t travel well.” Brad nudged Drea toward the kitchen sink. “But there should be fries. Wash your hands, and we’ll eat.”
Gwen didn’t want to get sucked into the easy back-and-forth between father and daughter. She focused on keeping herself detached. Despite believing she wouldn’t be able to ignore Ms. Miller, as the afternoon ticked away, Gwen was draw into the fun. Playing Smash Brothers with Drea, getting her ass kicked worse than Jaycie had ever beaten her, and then introducing the girl to the Baby Sitters’ Club books. A text came in from Jaycie, and then another, but Gwen ignored them. They could wait.
When their not-so-invisible observer left that afternoon, Gwen was grinning and having a blast with Drea and Brad. They hadn’t discussed if Gwen would go home at the end of the day, but she didn’t see any reason to leave, and he wasn’t hinting at it either.
Night closed in, and it was Drea’s bedtime. Brad shooed her off with a kiss on the forehead. Drea stopped in front of Gwen, not doing a good job of hiding her yawn. “Will you be here tomorrow, too?”
Gwen almost choked on her yes. Partly because she didn’t know if she was welcome, but mostly because she realized she wanted to be. Damn it, she needed to step back from the situation. Brad wrapped an arm around her waist, and she started.
“She has to work,” he said. “But we’ll go see her and get milkshakes.”
“Score.” Drea did a fist pump, then trotted toward her bedroom.
Her door closed. Brad kissed up Gwen’s jaw to her ear and whispered, “I hope that was all right.”
She didn’t know if it was, but couldn’t put words to her reaction. “Of course.”
“Can you stay? I know you have to sneak out early, but…”
She should tell him no. If for no other reason than she needed her sleep. Instead, she heard herself say, “I’d love to.”
Brad’s phone rang, and he gave her an apologetic shrug. “Give me a minute. If it’s Emily, I should take it.”
“No problem.” She pulled out her own phone while he answered, and scrolled to the messages from Jaycie.
Were you hacked?
Gwen frowned at the first text and dread rushed in from nowhere. The next made it worse.
No, really. You need to check your site and pull it now.
“What?” Brad’s irritation added to Gwen’s mounting concern. “Of course she didn’t… Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t do that… I have to go.”
He turned to Gwen, concern and something else smoldering in his dark eyes. “Did you write a blog post about us?”
Oh, fuck. “Yes. But I never posted it. I deleted it.” Hadn’t she? She scrambled back through her memories, looking for the specific point where she deleted the draft from her site.
“Are you sure?” He scrolled through his phone, then paused. “One-hundred percent positive?”
“I’m not anymore.” She tried to laugh it off but fumbled with the words.
He held up the screen, and her familiar layout blinked back at her. The colors, the fonts, the headline she swore she got rid of. Casual Sex. Not the Cure-All I Expected. She knew how the rest went. The barely vague details of lying to his ex-wife about their engagement, the accusations that he’d set her up. All her frustrations from that morning after they met were spilled into that post, none of them true anymore, but almost all of them overwhelmingly incriminating.
“Shit.”
“You think?” He tossed the device on the couch, where it bounced without a sound. His face twisted into something she’d only seen once—in his office when she accused him of sabotaging her site—but this was far worse. “What did you do?”
Her insides twisted into an agonizing knot. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brad couldn’t ignore the fury spilling through him. “You didn’t mean to? Not quite an apology. Certainly not a solution. But at least you didn’t do it on purpose.” He fought to keep his voice low. To not disrupt Drea. The almost tangible glee in Emily’s voice still echoed in his skull, along with Jim’s statement it didn’t look good to introduce someone new into his life right now. “Not that it being an accident changes the fact you posted something so completely fucking incriminating. You all but admitted to the world exactly what we’re up to.”
“I thought I deleted it,” Gwen said again. “I meant to. This looks as bad for me as it does for you.”
“Except you lose money you’ve admitted you don’t need. I lose my child.” A new thought blinked into his thoughts, bright and glaring, taunting him with how ridiculous it was. At the same time, it made as much sense as anything. “Did Emily put you up to this?”
Gwen’s eyes grew wide, and she stared at him in shock. “Excuse me?”
The pieces snapped together, and he didn’t like the picture they showed. He knew that wasn’t Gwen, but at the same time, he hadn’t thought her capable of something like sabotaging them—him, her, all of
it—so completely. It might not have ever occurred to him, if she hadn’t made the accusations she did that morning in her diner, so many days ago. “Accusing me of tracking you down online because I knew who you were—are you sure that wasn’t you? Being at my house that morning, when she dropped Drea off? Proposing this entire fake engagement thing?”
“Do you know how insane and conspiracy-riddled that is?” The apology vanished from her voice.
He did, now that he thought about it, but he was too upset to ponder for long. “It all seems really convenient.”
“You’re the one who introduced me as your fiancée that first day. No prompting on my part. You tracked me down at the diner. And why the hell would I kick you out of my office if I wanted to keep you around?”
“You’re a good actor? I slipped once. You suggested we perpetuate the lie for everyone.” He was being unreasonable. He didn’t care. The next hearing was Monday, and it didn’t matter how well the observation went. If the judge saw Gwen’s blog post and decided everything was a bullshit act, he wouldn’t rule in Brad’s favor.
“I didn’t do it on purpose. This is really bad, and I know sorry doesn’t fix it, but I didn’t mean to.” Her voice rose in volume, but she snapped her jaw shut before she reached shouting levels.
A whisper in the back of his head told him not to burn this bridge. He squashed it. “I think you need to leave.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “I think you’re right. I’ll give you every I’m sorry I can, and then some. I’d do whatever I can to fix this, but I won’t be accused of–or verbally abused for–something I didn’t do, when the truth is bad enough.”
He growled at the door as it swung shut behind her, and was both relieved and irritated further that she didn’t slam it. It would be one last thing between them he could be pissed about. The finality of the thought rocked in his head and gnawed at his heart. That hurt needed to go away. What he had to focus on now was finding out if there was any way to make this right. Talk to Ned. Work up a story about how he hadn’t known what Gwen was up to. Thought she was sincere.
Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) Page 10