The Lemon Sisters

by Jill Shalvis

  “Brooke—”

  “No, it’s good to know, and I hear you. Loud and clear. Kids!” she called. “Let’s go!”

  Garrett scooped up Maddox and helped them all into the house, in spite of Brooke not wanting him to.

  There they found a surprise in the kitchen.

  Linc.

  He’d removed his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and kicked off his shoes, and was drinking Brooke’s lemonade right from the pitcher she’d had in the fridge.

  “Daddy!” Millie cried, and flung herself at him. He set down the pitcher—and just in time, because Mason was right behind her, with Maddox closing up the parade. Linc caught Millie, hugged her, and slung her around his back so she was hanging from his neck. Mason went into one arm and Maddox into the other.

  “Hey, big man,” he said, giving each of his babies a squeeze and a kiss. He palmed Maddox’s tush. “No more diapers?”

  Maddox grinned.

  Linc shifted Mason onto the same arm as Maddox so he and Garrett could bump fists and do one of those half man-hugs, aka slapping each other on the back.

  “Daddy, Maddox doesn’t understand the lid-up rule,” Millie said. “I fell into the toilet last night!”

  “We’ll have to work on that if any of us wants to live,” Linc said, but his attention was now on Brooke, his eyes full of questions. “Not that it’s not great to see you, but where’s Min?”

  “Still in LA,” Brooke said. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No. Granted, I had terrible reception, so we only texted. What’s wrong?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Hey, kids,” Garrett said. “Let’s go build a fort.” Loading them up on him one by one, he then pretended to stagger to the door, making monster sounds. The kids were squealing in delight as they all left the kitchen.

  “Is she okay?” Linc asked the minute they were alone.

  “Physically, yes. Mentally? I don’t think so. She lost her collective shit, Linc. And I’m about to lose mine on you.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re freaking me out. Talk faster.”

  She blew out a breath. “She had a meltdown of epic proportions on the way home from Palm Springs. She showed up on my doorstep and fell in love with my bed. She was sad, over whelmed, and exhausted. Long story short, she stayed in LA, and I brought the kids home. She needed some time off.”

  Linc looked surprised. “From the kids?”

  Brooke gave him a long look.

  “From me, too?” He seemed stricken by this. “Why? And what do you mean, she’s sad?” He pulled out his phone, but Brooke put her hand over his.

  “Before you call her, I need you to tell me you’re still in this marriage.”

  Linc met her gaze, his own not defensive or guilty, but utterly shocked. “Of course I’m in this marriage. What the hell’s going on?”

  His reaction was real. She knew him well enough to know it deep in her gut. “She feels alone.”

  He inhaled a deep, shaky breath and nodded, like he’d absorbed the situation and made an assessment. “Okay, I’m going to LA. I’ll see if Garrett can watch the kids so you can leave—”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not leaving until she’s home and okay.”

  He looked both hugely relieved and touched by this. It had always been incredibly difficult to be mad at Linc for anything. For one, he was fun and charismatic as hell and, though somewhat softer than Garrett given the differences in the physicality of their jobs, still very fit. And two, he’d been her friend for as long as she could remember, and there’d been some really good times before she’d screwed up her entire life and left everyone and everything behind in Wildstone.

  “I don’t think you should go after her,” Brooke said. “She knows you planned on being here today. She’ll come home when she’s ready.”

  Linc shook his head. “But—”

  “The best thing you can do for her right now is let her feel like she’s in control, Linc.”

  He ran his hands over his face. “What do you know that I don’t? Tell me all of it. Everything, Brooke.”

  “She said something about you and the cute, perfect Brittney. And then some hot doctor she thought was a guy, but is really a woman. And oh yeah, you don’t ‘see’ her anymore. Or”—she grimaced—“do things to her anymore, including using the costumes from your secret sex chest. And I’m never going to forgive you for making me say that.”

  Linc let out a breath. “I see her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever seen or wanted. And as for Brittney, she’s gay. And a child,” he added, sounding horrified at the accusation.

  “And Dr. Sam?”

  “She’s a professional associate.”

  “With breasts,” Brooke pointed out. “Perky ones.”

  Linc grimaced. “She’s just a friend.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Linc, but good-looking husbands, especially husbands married to my sister, don’t get to have female friends with good breasts.”

  “You do realize that entire sentence is insulting.”

  “Good. Maybe it’ll wake you the hell up.”

  “Look, I know I’ve been busy—”

  “Nonexistent,” Brooke corrected, “and not there for your children and your wife. And that’s bullshit, Linc.”

  “I know it’s been crazy. I’ve been working at getting new partners for the practice, which would allow me to cut my hours. I tried to sell the practice to the hospital—they’ve made several great offers over the past few years—but Ethan won’t sell.”

  “Yeah, well, your brother’s a dumbass. And I don’t care about him. I care about Mindy and your kids.”

  Linc looked frustrated. “I know, but Ethan’s family, too.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” She waved her arm, gesturing to herself being in the kitchen. “People will do just about anything for family, dumbass or otherwise. But that isn’t going to help me help Mindy. I need you to wake the hell up.”

  A balloon floated into the room, attached to Ketchup the Tortoise.

  “What the hell?” Linc said.

  “We kept losing him, so we tied a balloon around his shell.”

  Linc gave a slow blink. “Somehow that makes perfect sense.”

  “Of course it does,” Brooke said. “You know what doesn’t? The fact that you work fourteen hours a day and leave before the kids get up, and then get home when there’s maybe half an hour before bedtime, and you think that’s okay.”

  “I’m a doctor,” he said. “You know my brother and I took over my dad’s practice. And Ethan’s marriage is falling apart, so I’ve been having to take up the slack.”

  She gave him a long look.

  He paused and then grimaced. “Okay, yeah, I heard it as I said it. I’m putting my own marriage at risk. I need to spend more time at home.”

  She sighed and softened slightly, knowing he was a good man in a tough spot. “These are your kids, Linc. Half an hour a day isn’t enough.” She poked her head out into the living room. Garrett’s long legs stuck out from under a big blanket tented between the back of the couch and a recliner. From inside came a bunch of giggles. “Hey,” she called out to the kids, “when’s the last time Daddy took you to the park?”

  They all stuck their heads out and blinked. Clearly no one could remember.

  “Well, guess what?” she asked brightly. “Daddy’s taking you to the park now. Aren’t you, Daddy?”

  “Daddy” looked a little nervous, but he smiled gamely. “Everyone load up!”

  Garrett stood. “I’ll be upstairs working on your tile.”

  “Or . . . ?” Linc asked meaningfully.

  “Or . . .”

  “Or you’ll be with us.”

  “Or I’ll be with you,” Garrett said smoothly.

  “Yay!” the kids yelled, and jumped up and down.

  “I’ve got to coach a soccer game at six,” Garrett warned.

  “You come with us and then we’ll go with you,” Linc sai
d.

  The two men bumped fists and Brooke rolled her eyes. “That was cheating,” she said to Linc. “But A-plus for effort and creativity.”

  Before they left, Linc stepped outside to call Mindy in private. Brooke pressed her ear to the window, but couldn’t hear a thing. “Dammit.”

  “Maybe you could trust him to do the right thing.”

  At the sound of Garrett’s voice in her ear, she jumped a mile in the air and sent him a baleful glance. “I’m not big on trust.”

  “No shit.”

  Linc came back in, and he and Garrett left for the park with the kids. Brooke left, too, and took herself on a drive around Wildstone, waiting for the urge to keep going on the highway heading south.

  The urge didn’t come, so she drove back to the beach, parked, and walked up the stairs. And then she forced herself to walk the bluffs again. This time she only flop-sweated half her body weight.

  Progress.

  She got home to a quiet house and took a long shower, thinking, damn, she was proud of herself.

  Linc and the kids came home a bit later. No Garrett.

  “He’s taking his team home,” Linc said. “He’ll feed them first, since most of them are without any adult supervision or authority figures.”

  Brooke tried to not let that into her heart and failed. Of course Garrett would take care of kids who had no one. Because he’d once been that kid himself.

  “It’s bedtime,” Linc said. “Right?”

  “Right,” Brooke said. “And you’re up at bat.”

  He nodded. “Sure,” he said, but didn’t move.

  “Are you kidding?” she asked. “You don’t know what to do?”

  He sighed. “Okay, I get it. I’m an asshole. But I know there’s a binder around here somewhere. Maybe you could get me the notes.”

  “No,” she said. “Pretend I’m not here. Consider it practice.”

  She stayed downstairs with a glass of wine—a big one. It wasn’t quiet, but Linc did the job, running the kids through a bath assembly line, getting them into pj’s with minimal meltdowns, supervising their teeth brushing, and tucking them into bed with somewhat decent efficiency. Which she knew because she tiptoed upstairs and snuck a peek. The house looked like a tornado had hit, but everyone was in their beds.

  “Impressive,” she said a few minutes later when she met him in the kitchen. He was looking like he’d been through a car wash. Without a car.

  “I bribed them,” he said. “With another trip to the park, God help me.”

  She laughed.

  Not Linc. He stumbled into the laundry room, stripping off his shirt as he went. Balling it up, he lifted the washing machine lid and tossed it in. Then he stared at the digital display.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to use a washing machine,” Brooke said.

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.” He touched the display and it lit up like the Fourth of July. “Want to know the things a guy doesn’t know he’s bad at until he’s married? Making the bed, laundry, being correct, and breathing.”

  “If you think I’m going to feel sorry for you—”

  “No. I needed my ass kicked, especially if it’s like this every night.” He shuddered. “Holy shit.”

  “It’s usually worse.”

  He looked sick. “I really fucked up.”

  “Yeah.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “But you’re going to fix it.”

  He slid her a look. “You think I can?”

  “Let’s put it this way—if you don’t, I’m going to kill you, so it doesn’t matter.”

  He nodded grimly. “And I’ll deserve it.”

  Dammit, it was no fun to kick a man when he was down. “I’m sorry it was so horrible today,” she said.

  “It wasn’t horrible. Not even close.” He gave what looked like a reluctant smile, flashing a sexy dimple that told her Maddox was going to kill it in the charm department someday. “You were right. I’ve been missing a lot.”

  “Yes,” she said. And because he was actually going to try, she pointed out the right settings on the washer.

  “Thanks.” They moved back to the living room. Linc headed straight to the couch and collapsed into it, looking a little shell-shocked. “So how did you potty train Maddox? We’ve been after him for a while now.”

  “‘We’?” she asked.

  “Fine. Mindy. Mindy’s been trying to potty train him for a while.”

  She shrugged. “I mentioned a few times how going without a diaper would make him a little man instead of a baby. And then the other day, he did his thing right before camp and brought me a diaper to change him. I told him he was going to have to wait a few minutes because I was helping Mason build a fort, and that only potty-trained kiddos could get inside it.”

  Linc stared at her. “You’re a little scary.”

  “And smart.”

  “And smart,” he agreed. “Smarter than Mindy and I put together. And we’ve got three degrees between the two of us.”

  Feeling a little sorry for him—a very little—she poured him a glass of wine, handed it over, and laughed as he gulped it like it was her lemonade.

  “Did you know that Maddox could talk?” he asked after a few moments of blessed silence.

  “I just learned that today, in fact.”

  He shook his head. “I thought we were still in the barking stage.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He told a lady in the park with two infant twins that she had nice puppies. Right after that, Millie kicked sand on a kid twice her size for making fun of Mason for wearing a girl’s dinosaur costume. The kid’s mother wanted me to make her apologize.”

  “Did you?”

  “Hell no. I told her my kid would apologize right after hers did the same for being a little asshole.”

  Brooke grinned. “You’ve got really great kids, you know.”

  “I know.” He sighed and closed his eyes, head back. “We went to McDonald’s on the way home. Even though Millie told me that Maddox always throws up McDonald’s. And guess what? Maddox threw up his McDonald’s. In my Mercedes. Everywhere.”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. His hair was standing on end. He was pale, and now that he mentioned it, he did smell vaguely of vomit.

  “I’ve got no idea how Mindy does this day in and day out,” he said quietly, eyes closed. “No wonder she went nuts. She’s lucky to have you. Do you think she’s ever coming back?”

  She’d better. “Maybe she just needs a few more naps and some carbs.”

  He laughed, but went serious again. “I want to help her through this.”

  “You tell her that?”

  “Yes. I’ve been an idiot.”

  “Yes. Now tell me you’ve got this.”

  “I’ve got this.”

  Dr. Linc wakes up, she thought.

  She just wished she could.

  Chapter 9

  “I love my kids. They’re . . . amazing. But holy shit, they’re also the cutest little soul-suckers I’ve ever seen.”

  A few days later, Mindy Lemon-Tennant pulled into Wildstone with a whole bunch of mixed emotions. She’d waited until dark to come home on purpose. She’d loved LA. She’d loved Brooke’s place, Tommy’s company, and how clearheaded she’d felt after catching up on her sleep. She’d also loved being away from the responsibility of the POP Smoothie Shop she’d once upon a time wanted to own with her whole heart.

  But she also loved Wildstone, and felt her heart clutch as she pulled into her driveway. And as much as she loved this house she’d grown up in, she’d missed what was inside it even more. Missing her kids and Linc was an actual physical ache in her chest that no amount of food or wine or antacids had been able to ease.

  But . . . she had no idea how to come home again. Especially to the sister who’d saved her life this past week, the same sister who’d pulled back so much emotionally that they were strangers.

  It was eight thirty, past the kids’ bedtime. The house was quiet, but
not dark. Someone was up. Brooke? Linc? On a normal workday, he never came home before nine, so she figured he was still at work. Taking a deep breath, she headed in, crossing through the dark living room to her favorite room in the house—her kitchen. She’d missed her kitchen. She’d missed her beloved appliances. She’d missed her oven. She’d missed baking . . .

  Brooke was sitting on the countertop drinking out of Mindy’s favorite mug. It was one of those mugs you could write your own slogan on. She’d always worked hard at finding just the right uplifting message to use every day. She’d written the last one on the morning she’d left, and it had read, Find the Calm in the Chaos.

  It now read, My sister went to LA and all I got was this lousy mug.

  Fair.

  “Hi, honey, I’m home,” she quipped.

  “Good. And I especially liked the way you timed your homecoming to miss bedtime,” Brooke said.

  Okay, not exactly a hug and kiss hello, but it was more than the usual silence she’d gotten from Brooke over the past few years. Mindy set her purse on the table. She wanted to see the kids more than anything, but she didn’t know where she and Brooke stood, and she wanted to. She’d been in freak-out mode when she’d showed up on Brooke’s LA doorstep, and though they’d texted multiple times a day since then, it had been all about the kids. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Brooke said, popping the P sound. She refilled the mug from a nearly empty wine bottle behind her, answering the mystery of what she was drinking. “Although I’ve been worried sick, and here you are, looking like a million damn bucks in new clothes and new hair and . . . wait—are those my shoes?”

  Mindy felt a warm glow that Brooke had been worried about her and looked down at the fabulous wedges she’d liberated from her sister’s closet. “They felt neglected.”

  Brooke looked her over. “New hair, new clothes, you’ve lost two pounds, and you’re wearing makeup. Tommy had the girls give you a makeover.”

  Mindy preened a little bit; she couldn’t help it. It was a thrill to not look half dead. “I’ve been working out, too. Weights and treadmill.”