by Emma Lea
She had taken a quick break from the leering men and glaring women to escape to the bathroom where she leant on the vanity and hung her head. She’d had just about enough of judgmental arseholes today and her temper was on a short rein. Mrs. Mayfield had just about used up all her goodwill and Brandi had to dig deep to find a reason to go back out there and face those people. At least the kids were having fun and Courtney’s daughter was a sweet little girl.
With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door. Courtney’s husband, Matthew, stood there, leaning casually against the wall opposite the bathroom door. Brandi stopped short.
“Oh, sorry. Did you need to use the bathroom?”
He smiled at her and she felt her skin crawl.
“No, I was waiting for you.”
“Oh?” Brandi said as she made a move to exit the bathroom, but Matthew stepped forward and blocked her exit.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Brandi grit her teeth as he breathed his disgusting beer-breath over her and reached up to take a red curl in his fingers.
“I like the red,” he said. “Do you keep it on when you fuck?”
Brandi took a step back into the bathroom and out of his reach. “I need to get back to the party,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist.
“Courtney has them doing the cake, so we have a few minutes.”
“Shouldn’t you be there to see your daughter blow out her candles?”
He sneered at her and stepped into the bathroom, backing her up against the vanity until it dug into her hip. “She’ll have more birthdays,” he growled as he grabbed for her wig again and tried to kiss her.
Brandi didn’t think, she just reacted. Her knee came up and connected with the soft spot between his legs. His eyes bulged as he doubled over and she pushed her way past him.
“Fucking bitch,” he wheezed. “You’re a fucking cocktease.”
She kept walking and slammed the door to the bathroom behind her as she hustled away from it and him. That was a first. The fathers weren’t usually in attendance at the parties she went to, but when they were, none of them had ever come onto her so blatantly. Maybe it was the fact that Matthew knew her, had known her. Maybe because they had dated once or twice in high school he thought that he still had some claim on her. But that was bullshit. He’d been like every other boy she’d dated back then, he just wanted to fuck and then tell everyone about it. She had a reputation back then that she didn’t entirely deserve. She didn’t sleep with every guy she dated, but every guy she dated told the world how he’d banged her in the back seat of his mummy’s station wagon. Matthew had been one of the ones that she hadn’t slept with and he seemed to still hold a grudge about the fact.
Brandi rubbed her arms as her skin prickled with disgust. Her stomach was clenched and she felt the shakes as the adrenaline hit her system. If she wasn’t careful she was going to have a panic attack. She just needed to calm down, take deep breaths and wrap this gig up as quickly as she could. She needed to get away from here and have a hot shower to scrub off any trace of Matthew’s hands on her.
She rounded the corner and found Miranda, the birthday girl, squatting on the floor holding her stomach.
She bent down next to her and smoothed her hair back from the little girl’s face. She was burning up.
“You okay sweetheart?” she asked.
Miranda opened her mouth to reply and then a horrified look crossed her face as she vomited all over Brandi and then vomited again. Brandi slumped to her backside and leant against the wall covered in multicoloured vomit from all the party food the little girl had eaten. She leant her head back as she tried to calm the little girl who was now crying. Could this day get any worse? Just at that moment, Courtney walked around the corner and saw the mess.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screamed.
“Miranda wasn’t feeling too well,” Brandi began.
“Miranda hey, come here to mummy,” Courtney cooed and then turned burning eyes on Brandi. “Get the hell out of my house.”
“This wasn’t my fault,” Brandi said, no longer caring about being polite and respectful. This woman and her husband were awful people and she wished she’d never come here.
“My daughter does not just throw up for no reason. It must have been something in those cupcakes you brought with you.”
Brandi always brought cupcakes to her parties. She didn’t cook them herself but got them from a local bakery. There was no way they were to blame for Miranda’s up-chuck.
“It wasn’t the cupcakes,” Brandi said tiredly as she stood to her feet. She couldn’t even go to the bathroom to clean herself up because she didn’t know if Matthew was still there. At least he wouldn’t try to touch her with kid-sick all over her.
“Just get out,” Courtney said in a low dangerous voice.
“Fine,” Brandi replied and headed towards the bedroom where she had dumped her stuff earlier. She took off her ruined costume and shoved it in a plastic bag, trying not to gag, and pulled on her jeans and t-shirt. Her mermaid tail was ruined, the aqua-blue lamé fabric would not survive the explosion of regurgitated party food. She should probably send Courtney a bill for the ruined outfit as well as the bill for the party. At least it might go some way toward making up for the trauma of the day.
Without a backward glance, Brandi left the tacky McMansion and instead of driving back to Declan’s place, she headed home. She needed the space and familiarity of her own things to soothe her jangled nerves. Sure, snuggling up to his warm body would go a long way to making her feel better, but she couldn’t start relying on him for that. They weren’t in a real relationship and he wasn’t her real boyfriend. The last thing he would want was to see her covered in vomit and feeling sorry for herself so she was calling it. The weekend was officially over.
14
That fucking white ball was going to be the death of him.
“Tell me why we are doing this again?” Declan asked as he lost sight of his ball in the rough.
“We’re grown-ups,” Hunter said as he practised his swing. “Grown-ups play golf… apparently.”
“I still don’t get the point,” he grumbled as he moved off the tee to let Hunter take his shot. “None of us enjoy it.”
“But it does force us to spend several quality hours in each other’s company,” Mason said.
“Especially now that all of you each have a woman to occupy all your other time,” Jonathon said.
“Jealous?” Brooks commented.
“Not at all,” Jonathon replied with a smirk, “but at least playing golf once a week means I get to see you reprobates.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Brooks said as Hunter swung and connected with the ball sending it down the fairway.
Declan grunted. He had probably played more golf than any of these guys and yet he was still the worst at it. There had to be a psychological reason for that. Some sort of resistance stopping him because of all the times his father tried to force the game on him. He grunted again and rolled his shoulders. He didn’t want to think about it. He hated golf and he was quite happy to keep on hating it.
As Mason stepped up to take his turn, Declan moved over to stand next to Brooks.
“We need to talk about the other night,” he said.
“I know,” Brooks replied a frown on his face. “You want to tell me why you were yelling at my fiancé?”
“I wasn’t yelling at her,” Declan said with a huff, “and she was the one who started it. I overheard the shitty things she was saying about Brandi and I took exception to it. I like Harper, you know that, but she was being a bitch and I called her on it.”
Brooks searched Declan’s eyes and the exhaled roughly. “Harper wouldn’t tell me what happened. If it’s any consolation, I think she feels bad about the whole situation.”
“Brandi told me to just ignore it and not to say anything, but I couldn’t. I didn’t like the things Harper wa
s saying about her. She’s nothing like what Harper was describing.”
“I know this is no excuse but I really think Heather did a number on her. Sometimes she acts a little irrationally and it all seems to track back to Heather. Does it matter now anyway? Will we ever see Brandi again?”
“She’s my partner in the wedding,” Mason said stepping up beside them.
Declan growled. “Yeah, about that—”
“No,” Hunter butted in. “You are not switching partners. My bride is barely keeping it together with all the wedding planning going on, you will not make her job harder.”
“You really like this girl, huh?” Mason said and Declan shrugged.
“You’ve all seen her, she’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, but this is more,” Mason mused looking at him intensely and making Declan squirm just a little bit.
“You have feelings for her,” Brooks said with a sly smile.
Declan started to shake his head and then stopped himself. If he couldn’t be honest with his friends, then who could he be honest with.
“I do,” he said with a resigned sigh. “Not that anything can come of it.”
“Why the hell not?” Hunter barked.
Declan looked at the four men who stood around him. “You all know why not.”
“Your mother?” Brooks snorted. “You’re actually going to let your mother decide who you marry?”
Declan shrugged and picked up his golf bag, heading for his little white ball somewhere in the bush.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Brooks called after him.
Was he, though? He had known his whole life that his wife would not be his choice. He had watched his mother choose his brother’s bride and then watched as she chose his sister’s husband. His siblings hadn’t protested and seemed to be making the best of the situation. They might not be deliriously happy and in love, but they had a functioning family and were producing grandchildren. Surely it couldn’t be all bad. Neither his brother nor his sister had ever complained to him about the situation and so he had accepted the inevitable.
What was the alternative? He already skirted the line of acceptance in the family. He was the black sheep who had struck out on his own and had made a success of himself without the family connections. Yes, he’d used their money, but only as a loan that he had since paid back in full. He didn’t owe them for his success any more than he would have owed another bank who financed him. And it wasn’t as if they had just handed over the money. He’d had to go through a loan application just like any other businessman seeking finance. They hadn’t been easy on him and the interest rate had been high due to the fact that his plans had a ‘high risk factor.’ But he had proved them all wrong and had succeeded when they had expected him to fail.
How would his family react if he decided not to marry whoever it was that his mother had in mind? And in the grand scheme of things, did he really care? Sure, he held on to the fairytale that one day he might have a mother who loved him like mothers were supposed to and not just see him as part of the Mayfield family assets. But was there any reality in which that would actually happen? Would marrying the woman she chose for him suddenly turn her into the perfect mother? And if he really didn’t care about securing her approval of him, why the hell was he going along with her ridiculously old-fashioned plan?
He had stopped walking without realising it and when he came back to his senses, his friends had gathered around him.
“Are you in love with her?’ Mason asked.
“I—” Was he? “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe?”
“Then you owe it to yourself to find out,” Hunter said.
“But—” Could it be that easy?
“Where’s the harm in trying?” Brooks said. “Spend some time with her and really get to know her. Date her. If she’s not the one then you will soon find out and if she is, then…”
Then he might just have found the love of his life. Declan smiled and felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. He was going to date Brandi, for real, and see if these stirrings in his heart were the genuine deal and maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same.
Feeling a whole lot better about both golf and his relationship with Brandi, Declan jogged up the stairs to his home and unlocked the front door. He stepped over the threshold and listened, but he couldn’t hear a single noise that would indicate that Brandi was there. He walked through the house, anxiety growing with each empty room he encountered. They had made plans to meet back here and then decide what they were going to do for dinner. He was sure that was what they had decided before they went their separate ways that afternoon. So why wasn’t she there waiting for him?
He checked the bedroom and noticed her overnight bag was gone. Had she left? They still had one more night of their fantasy weekend and Declan wanted to spend it with her telling her his new plan. The plan where they actually dated for real. The plan where she really was his girlfriend and not just a decoy to fool his mother. The plan where he was really her significant other and not just some replacement for the man who had ditched her at the reunion.
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted the real thing with her. He didn’t know how it happened but he had begun to fall for her. He’d always thought falling in love would be some big thunder-clap moment, not this slow, silky glide into a new reality. He had always expected it to be terrifying and that he would feel hemmed in and trapped. But that’s not what he felt at all. The more he thought about it, her, them, the more it felt right. It sat in his heart as a new thing, but not as something that was out of place. Weirdly, it felt like it had been there all along and he’d just needed the right woman to light it up and make it come alive. Brandi was that woman.
So where the fuck was she? There wasn’t even a god damned note to tell him what the hell was going on. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and realised he hadn’t tuned it back on from when he was playing golf. Apparently it was frowned upon to have your phone on while on the course. He powered it up with a curse and waited for it to start. Why did things always take so much longer when you were in a hurry? Finally it came to life in his hands and he noticed the missed call from Brandi and a text message. He opened the text message first.
B: Had a really shitty day at the party. Long story which ended with me being covered in vomit. Needed to go home, shower and decompress. Rain check for tonight?
He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. She hadn’t bailed on him, not completely. His plans for the night were ruined, but that didn’t mean the big plan was. He walked into the library and over to the antique wet bar that his grandfather had loved and kept well-stocked. He poured himself a drink, whiskey neat, and then settled into one of the big leather chesterfields. He took a sip and savoured the smokey flavour of the well-aged liquor and then hit redial on his phone.
“Declan?” she answered and she didn’t sound anything like her normal, cheerful self.
“Hey sweetheart,” he said letting the endearment roll off his tongue like he said it all the time. “You don’t sound too good.”
In fact, she sounded awful and that did weird things to his insides. He wanted to be there for her, holding her, brushing his hand on her forehead and telling her it would be all right because he would look after her.
She huffed out a small laugh. “I feel like crap,” she replied softly.
“Wanna talk about it?”
She sighed. “Do you remember Courtney? From the reunion?”
He had a vague recollection of the three women who had been sitting with Brandi, but to be honest, he’d only had eyes for her.
“Sure,” he said.
“Well it was a party for her daughter. I was sure I told Peyton not to book a party with her. I didn’t want to do it and had I known I wouldn’t have gone.”
“Was she a bitch to you?” Declan said sympathetically.
Brandi groaned and he liked the sound of
it in his ear, although it wasn’t the same groan that usually got him going. He liked the sound of it because it felt like they were sharing something intimate. This conversation was about how bad her day was and there was something special about it that he’d never experienced before. The only thing that would make it better was if he was there with her, her head on his lap as she complained about her shitty day.
“They all were and then her husband propositioned me in the bathroom.”
Declan’s gut clenched and he gripped the tumbler in his hand until his knuckles went white. “He what?”
“It’s okay, I kneed him in the balls—”
“That is not okay, Brandi,” he said roughly. “Tell me his name.”
“No. Declan, no. I dealt with it and it’s fine. Well, not fine, but it’s over and I’d rather just forget about it.”
“Does that happen much at these parties?”
“No,” she replied softly. “The fathers aren’t usually there, but I think this had more to do with the fact that he knew me. We dated once or twice in high school.”
Declan’s jaw ached from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “That doesn’t mean he has the right to touch you,” he ground out.
“I know and as I said, I dealt with it.”
Declan made himself relax. He took a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly. He loosened his fingers and rolled his head, stretching out the taut muscles in his neck. “Okay,” he said with a slow breath. “Tell me what else happened.”
“Then the birthday girl, Miranda, puked on me and ruined my costume. Courtney had the gall to blame me for it which was just a perfectly shitty end to an entirely shitty party.”
“So why are you there at your house instead of here where I can take care of you and make you feel better?”