Bed Buddies: Puck Buddies, Book Three

by Tara Brown

  “You’re chipper again this morning.” I narrow my gaze. “I honestly thought you’d be psychotic, especially with Brady sleeping over.”

  “What? I don't hate Brady. He’s a nice guy. And he loves you—how could I hate that?” She scoffs. “I’m cool as a cucumber. What’s there to stress over? Our company goes live in a few days. Everyone under the sun has tried to book us for TV interviews. My dad is so proud of me, he can’t stand it. He hasn’t been back to London in two months. He’s working so much here. My mom’s quit drinking, which is insane. And she’s upstairs right now, probably Googling other baby shit. She’s obsessed. My stupid morning sickness is finally over. My baby is healthy. I get to have an ultrasound in a few weeks and find out the gender. I don't have to have the little weasel until the end of November which means I won’t be huge pregnant in the summer. I might not be really showing. I’m fifteen weeks and you can’t even tell.” She turns sideways and she’s right. She’s still incredibly lean. “Liz and Mike are getting married, which is insane and yet I kinda dig it. She’s a great addition to our company. And he’s genuinely awesome. He’s not even speaking to—anyway, I offered them my parents’ castle to get married. Which I had no idea was her dream wedding. We are going to do it up. It’ll be the best wedding ever and our show is going to kill that setting. I can already see the setup and design. I offered to just plan it for her and it has been a great distraction. Things are good.” At the end of the little motivational speech, which I suspect she’s been chanting for the last couple of weeks, I see the glint of agony.

  It’s always there, just below the surface. Sometimes it escapes and she spends the day crying. Her not being a crier makes it that much more intense. But also just knowing how much pain she’s in.

  “I’m glad you’re helping them plan their wedding. I’m glad it’s good for the company. And I’m really glad it’s distracting. But I want you to be careful, if it makes you sad to see this romance.”

  “I’m fine.” It’s a horrid lie. As Asshat has grieved for his brother and father, she has grieved for him. The first week was awful. Her fits of rage, packing his things, and sobbing endlessly broke me. I won’t recover from seeing that. And she won’t recover from doing it.

  The second week wasn't better. She was calm, creepy calm, and detached. We did all the photo shoots for the entire year that week. She was like a blank slate, on autopilot and doing whatever we told her to. She posed, she smiled, she pretended. She was old Sami.

  The third week was our hardest. I think it hit her that week. I caught her sitting alone in the park across from his building. I asked her what she was doing and she said she needed to see him. She was hoping he was with someone else. It would be easier for her. So I sat there with her, until my butt went numb. She fell asleep; Sami Ford fell asleep in the park. When I forced her to come home she broke down, crying in her closet holding his stupid fucking coat. I sent it to his house that day. Honestly, I wanted to burn the stupid thing.

  She grieved hard for a month.

  But the second doctor’s appointment saved us all.

  She heard the tiny heartbeat for the first time and she snapped out of it.

  Her grief for him ended too abruptly for me to trust it, but it’s been two weeks of her being better.

  I wish he had died, I wish it all the time. It would make her pain more bearable and worthy to the people who don't know she’s pregnant and not just sad about some guy.

  “Sami, did you remember your fish oil?” Mrs. Ford comes clicking into the room. It’s eight in the morning and she’s already dressed and looking beautiful, with her hair in a twist and dark reading glasses on. She’s like a young Eva Gabor.

  “I did.” Sami rolls her eyes. “As if Nadia didn't force them on me this morning.”

  We’re a team.

  Sami and I have become bed buddies and working buddies on top of already being hanging together buddies. It’s just like old times. Before Brady and Asshat. Her mom and Nadia are the bosses of the team, making sure every aspect of Sami’s life is focused on a healthy baby. And Sami’s dad is the head of the team for our careers, ensuring the company going live will be spectacular. He still doesn't know about the baby though.

  “There’s a select group of Lamaze classes you can take, either one-on-one coaching so no one knows you’re pregnant or with other wealthy celebrities who prefer privacy. You just need to choose which, and I will have that booked. You need to start around twenty weeks with the meditation aspects of it.”

  “There’s a Miss Beverly at the door,” Nadia interrupts Sami’s mom.

  “Beverly?” Sami scowls. “I don't know a—” She pales. “Show her into the sitting room.” She swallows hard and gives me a look. “Cousin Bev.”

  My heart stops. Asshat’s Cousin Bev?

  Sami walks from the kitchen and instinctively I climb off the chair to follow her. “Who’s Cousin Bev?” her mom asks.

  “She’s a Brimley.” I force myself to say the name we never say.

  “Oh.” Her mom gets a hopeful look on her face. I want to slap it off every time I see it. Now that Matt’s the head of the Brimley companies and fortune, she longs for reconciliation between them. She doesn't care that he’s killed off pieces of Sami, whole chunks of her.

  Her parents piss me off sometimes.

  Every footstep is forced and painful, and as we round the corner I expect something I don't get.

  Instead of some posh girl in a suit, we get a girl about our age with dark hair and glasses and a soft smile. She looks nice, actually. Like Liz, sort of, sort of geeky and down to earth.

  “Hi, I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I kind of thought you might not want to see me if I called ahead.” She walks to Sami, holding a hand out. “I’m Bev. Matt’s cousin.”

  Sami finches slightly when his name’s mentioned and doesn't take her hand or introduce any of us.

  “Hi.” I take her hand. Sami’s frozen. “I’m Natalie, her best friend.”

  “Of course you are. You’re the one Coldwell doesn't stop crying about.” She grins. “I’ve wanted to shake your hand for a while, the girl who turned God’s gift to women into a weepy schoolgirl.”

  We all laugh, except Sami. I like Bev, it’s instant.

  “I haven’t seen him in a while, but he was a mess the last time. It was fairly awesome. Pretty sure you ruined him.” Her accent is soft. She stops smiling and glances at Sami. “Can we talk, privately?”

  Sami shakes her head. “They can hear whatever you have to say.”

  “Okay.” She turns and looks at the sofas. “Do you mind if I sit?”

  “No.” Sami sounds funny again. It’s taken her weeks to get here, and this one visit could have her back in her room, crying in the dark.

  “The reason I came—”

  “I sent all his stuff back,” Sami blurts.

  “Oh, that’s not why I’m here. I wouldn't have cared if you burned his shit and made art out of the ashes.” Her tone loses some of the kindness she’s clearly putting on. “I came because I needed to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine.” Sami’s “fine” is the least convincing thing I’ve ever seen. It cuts into me.

  “I can tell.” Bev nods, obviously not believing the lie. “He’s not. I know you don't care, I know you probably hate him more than you hate anyone, but he’s a mess.”

  “You’re right, we don't care,” I blurt, not trying to be rude but this is all about survival now.

  “There’s something I think you don't know. You were the stipulation, Sami. My uncle had lawyers come to the hospital as he was dying and rewrite the will. And you and hockey were the stipulations. Matty wasn't allowed to see you or be with you. He wasn't allowed to have contact with you at all. He had to break things off via lawyers or be written out completely, nothing. No money at all.”

  “What?” I gasp but Sami sits and stares, stoic.

  “It’s disgusting. I always hated my uncle; he was a
douche. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but he was. And I don't give a shit. He wrote my aunt out of the will, almost completely. He left nothing for his own family. Everything, every tiny penny except Matty’s trust fund, was going to Tony, that dick. So when Tony died, Uncle had to redo the will immediately. But he hated you and thought you were a bad influence on Matt.” She lowers her gaze. “He hated you and hockey.”

  “Why didn't he just agree, walk away with his trust fund, and say fuck it?” I have to ask how he could have possibly chosen money over Sami.

  “Because my uncle was a jerk. He made it so Tony’s pregnant wife would have been out in the cold. Not a penny to her. Her and my aunt. They would have been evicted from the properties, shamed and left with nothing but what they had brought into the marriages. And nothing to Matt but his trust fund.”

  “He chose to protect them all instead of being happy?” Sami’s mom slumps onto a cushion next to me, shifting the couch.

  “Yup. That’s Matt.” Bev sighs, seeming close to tears. “He’s the dumbest asshole in the world. But he would take his coat off in a snowstorm and go cold, to make sure you were warm.”

  Sami breaks. She slumps, sobbing, and then runs from the room.

  Her mom follows her, but I just stare at Bev, not sure if she realizes what she’s said, not sure if she knows the story about Matt giving Sami his coat.

  “Oh fuck. I didn't mean to come and upset her. I wanted her to know. I would have wanted to know why, if I were her. And I knew none of the chickenshits in your life would tell you. I know how the fancy world works and how everything is a big secret.”

  “Does Brady know this?” My insides are on fire.

  “Yeah, Brady and me and the lawyers are the only ones. The lawyers don't give a shit about you girls but Brady and Matt do. And they still haven’t told.”

  “Holy shit.” I sit back. “Holy shit.” I don't know what else to say. Asshat is still an asshat but it makes sense at least. I feel like one weight has left my shoulders but then another has slumped onto them and crushed me. “She’s fifteen weeks pregnant.” I have to say it. “You can’t tell him or anyone else. It’s why she’s taking this so hard. She’s not usually this weak over some fucking guy.”

  “Oh God.” Bev lifts her hand to her mouth.

  “She found out the day his dad and brother died. We came to the hospital in Boston but he wouldn't see her. He wouldn't even speak to her. And she knew she was pregnant.” I need someone to see why this is so hard for Sami, that she isn’t just in love with a guy who refuses to love her back.

  “Oh God.” Her eyes dart in the direction Sami fled. “I shouldn't have come here.” She stands.

  “No. I’m glad you did. She needed to know.”

  “Is she going to tell him?” Her eyes glisten with tears.

  “No.” I shake my head. “She doesn't want anything from him.”

  “He loves her.” Bev starts to cry. “He’s a mess. He’s horrible actually. He lives in his office and stares out the window and snaps all the time when people try to talk to him. I’ve never seen him like this. I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s exactly like his dad.”

  “He chose wrong.”

  “He couldn't let Tony’s pregnant wife and his mom have nothing. My aunt’s family is land rich but they’re cash poor. Marrying my uncle was her way of making money and he got her connections. She’s got very little.”

  “In rich people’s terms but both of those women would have been fine in the real world’s standards. And surely there’s a loophole now that his dad’s dead.” I can’t believe this bullshit.

  “Matt’s the head now, he can do whatever he wants.” Again, her red and puffy gaze darts in the direction Sami went. “But I think he believes he’s blown his chance.”

  “He has. But I don't understand why he didn't just wait for the dad to die, settle the paperwork, and then disregard the entire will?” There has to be a solution to this agony.

  “I don't know. He won’t talk about it. He won’t talk to anyone except Brady and the lawyers and other business people. He’s handling the business and nothing else. He paid out his contract and didn't finish the season of hockey. He never got to play his last game.” She sighs. “I was hoping if she knew, she might go to him—”

  “She won’t.”

  “I don't blame her. He left her pregnant and alone. I only hoped. Maybe.”

  “No.” I remain firm. “She’s done with him.”

  “When he finds out about the baby, he might want to see it.” She gives me a hopeful look.

  “Then I guess he’ll have to go to court like all the other deadbeat dads in the world and try to make it happen.” She flinches when I say it but I don't care. He’s dead to me and to Sami.

  “Tell Sami I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of bad news, but when the baby’s born, I’d like to be able to see her again. If it’s okay with her. And Gran will want to as well.”

  “I’ll ask her but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “That’s fair.” Bev stands, motioning her head at the door. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “Thanks for not being a chickenshit like the other chickenshits in our lives.” I can’t believe Brady never told me this.

  “Hopefully I’ll see you again under better circumstances.” She smiles and shows herself out.

  I cover my face, unable to even process this. Then I grab my phone and call Brady.

  “Hey, babe.”

  “You knew his dad made him leave Sami and you couldn't tell her that? You couldn’t spare her feelings or put her out of her misery?” I don't bother with niceties.

  He’s silent for a moment. “We made a deal, Nat. We’re not going to let their shit break us up.” He sounds worried. He should be.

  “This isn’t their shit, this is yours. You lied, to me and to Sami.”

  “I never lied!” he raises his voice.

  “OMISSION IS LYING, BRADY!” I scream into the phone. I want so badly to tell him she’s pregnant. I want him to know how much this has damaged Sami, and why. I want him to know what kind of horrors this will bring her and the setback we’ll be looking at. “Do you know how much this information might have helped her?”

  “Nat, don't! Just stop! We can’t let them drag us in!”

  “That’s the difference between you and me—she isn’t dragging me in. I’m here because I want to be.” I hang up the phone and slump into my hands. My heart is breaking for us all.

  Chapter 26

  Weakness

  May 28, 2016

  Sami

  My phone rings again but I look the other way, refusing to let Nat talk me out of this.

  Vincenzo parks the car in front of the Brimley building. I jump out before he gets the door, storming for the building. The doorman flinches when he sees me, but he gets the door. I walk to the desk, scowling. “You tell Matt Brimley he better be downstairs to see me in the next five minutes.” I point at the car. “I’ll wait in my car.” The words are growled. I turn on my heel and head back to the car. Vincenzo gets the door for me, with a worried expression. “Don't.” I point at him and climb in.

  The only reason he drove me was because I tried to drive myself. It didn’t go well.

  I slump into the leather seats and wait. I don't look at his building or the door or for him. I stare out the other window, watching the traffic go by.

  I cannot believe this is my life. My gratitude, that tiny heartbeat, isn’t getting me through. I hold my hands over my stomach, begging it to make this okay, to make me stronger.

  My entire body tightens when the door to the limo opens. It takes everything inside me to keep watching the traffic when the smell of his cologne hits the car. I wish it made me sick, instead of what it makes me feel.

  He doesn't speak. He sits and the door closes and we’re alone. Vincenzo drives, taking us nowhere and everywhere.

  I refuse to cry, even though everything in me wants to. I swallow the lu
mp in my throat and glance his way. “I want to hear it from your lips.” I’m not prepared for how he looks. It’s the opposite of what I expected. He’s in a suit with his hair still long, but it’s slicked back, styled by someone other than him. He’s clean-shaven and perfect. Horribly perfect. He so still that he reminds me of the wax people in Madame Tussauds.

  “Beverly?” he asks softly and without emotion.

  “Just tell me the truth. You owe it to me.” I’m calm too. I don't know how. Or why. But we’re frozen in these icy shells.

  “She must have told you everything if you’re here. What else is there to say?”

  “I want to hear it from your fucking lips!” I shout, breaking my icy crust but desperately keeping my tears at bay.

  He cringes.

  “I want to hear that you traded me for money. I need to hear you say it.”

  “I traded you for money.” His voice doesn't crack. He doesn't crack.

  “I hate you,” my voice cracks.

  “I know. But you have to get over it.”

  “Like you have?” I laugh at him, losing my cool.

  “It doesn't matter about me.”

  “Look at you.” I point. “You look like my dad. Actually, you look like your dad.” I laugh harder but it’s not joy, it’s insanity. I’ve officially lost my mind.

  He doesn't budge. He’s still made of wax.

  “You have nothing to say to me? Not a fucking thing? Are you even alive in there?” I jump up, messing his hair and slapping his face, harder than I mean to.

  It snaps him to life but the response isn’t anger. He grabs me, squeezing my arms. His eyes lose their cold hatred. It melts away and becomes the story I need to see. The love story I knew wasn't fake.