by T. K. Leigh
I nod, absorbing his words. I almost don’t ask my next question, but my curiosity gets the better of me. “When did you know with Mama?”
With a shallow sigh, he wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. This is what I need. To feel my father’s love and assurance that everything will be okay, that whatever I’m going through will work itself out.
“The minute she opened her mouth and declined my invitation to take her out for ice cream.” There’s a lightness about him as he recalls the woman I can barely remember now that nearly thirty years have gone by since she died.
“She turned you down?”
“I like to think she was playing hard to get.”
“Well, it must have worked.” I try to mask the longing in my words, but it’s impossible. My dad’s a damn good man and the best father a girl could ask for. But it doesn’t make up for the empty place setting at the dining room table. Life isn’t fair, but I’ve had a much better life than some people. Regardless, I still get angry that someone could be so careless as to get behind the wheel after drinking, and because of that carelessness, I never had an opportunity to know my mother.
“It did.” My father’s tone matches the despondency I feel in my heart.
We sit in silence for a while longer, the peacefulness intermingling with the crackling of the radio and a few cheers coming from the second floor where the guys are watching either hockey or basketball. Probably hockey. It makes me think of Drew, of the heat in his eyes the other night when he almost kissed me. Again. And how a part of me wishes he did. Again.
“You still miss her, don’t you?” I look to him, my voice contemplative. “Is that why you’ve never asked Ana to marry you?”
His body seems to deflate. “I love Ana, but not like your mother. When your mother passed, she took a piece of my heart with her, one I’ll never get back. One I don’t want back. Ana understands this. She lost her husband, too. When you lose someone like that, it changes you. Changes your perspective.” He drops his arm from around my shoulders and grabs both of my hands in his. “You became my focus. You were all I needed, and through you, her memory will always live on in my heart. I guess that’s why I was always a bit overprotective of you. I couldn’t stomach the idea of losing you, too.”
I consider his words, unable to stop my next question from spilling from my mouth. Everything he just said reminds me too much of another single father I know. “Do you think you’ll be able to learn to love with your entire heart again? Even after having it broken?”
Suspicion swirls in his eyes, which I should have expected. This man raised me. He had to hear the real question hidden within — whether Drew would ever lower those walls he’s erected around his heart after Carla left. I shouldn’t care, but a part of me needs to know the answer. Maybe if I know there will never be a chance for him to be the man I once thought him to be, it will make my decision to marry Wes feel like less of a mistake.
“I’ve learned a lot in my sixty-two years, most notably that anything’s possible.” He stares into the distance, deep in thought. “Sometimes we let our own prejudices or fear cloud our vision and it blinds us to the truth, to what’s right.” With a smile, he returns his eyes to mine and kisses my forehead. “Sometimes we make mistakes. We think we’re doing what’s best, but we end up hurting the people we were trying to protect.”
I open my mouth to ask him what he means by that when an obnoxious alarm echoes loudly through the truck bay. In the blink of an eye, he’s no longer my father but Lieutenant Reece Tanner. He jumps into action, ushering me away from the truck and out of the way as the place swarms with firefighters. They all suit up in what seems like seconds.
As my dad’s about to hop into the passenger seat next to the engineer, he nods in my direction. “Love you, Brooklyn,” he shouts over the alarm before disappearing into the truck.
Within a matter of seconds, it pulls out of the garage, lights flashing, siren blaring, taking my father away to the call that could be his last. In my heart, I know it’s not. I just wish my heart could be as certain about Wes.
“Love you, too, Dad,” I whisper as the truck gets smaller and smaller in the distance.
Chapter 14
Brooklyn
“Molly?” I call out as I step into her house on Friday. I expect to see her sitting at the small table in the breakfast nook, as she usually is when I drop by in the morning.
“In here,” she responds. I follow the sound of her scratchy voice.
“Are you okay? You sound like hell.” I come to a stop when I see her curled up on the couch in the den, Noah hovering over her, his hand on her forehead.
“I feel like hell,” she admits.
“She’s running a fever,” Noah explains, his concerned eyes floating to mine. “And she’s been having trouble keeping any food or fluid down.”
“It started last night. There’s nothing I can take because of this.” She points to her stomach, scowling playfully as she meets Noah’s gaze. “You just had to get me pregnant, didn’t you?”
He leans down and places a kiss on her temple. “I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.”
Longing fills me as I witness their exchange. It seems so natural and easy. I’ve never felt that way with Wes, like I can say whatever pops into my mind. Yes, he’s sweet and tenderhearted, but also very serious and somewhat intimidating, like his entire life is one board meeting or client dinner. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt like I can be myself around him. At least not the person I can be with Molly…and Drew.
“I’m sorry, Brook,” Molly says, bringing me back from my thoughts. Her complexion is pale, her normally pink lips lackluster. When a visible shiver rolls through her, Noah drapes a blanket over her, rubbing her arms. “I hate to disappoint you, but I can’t go today.”
“I need to keep an eye on her temperature,” he adds. “If it gets too high, it puts the baby at risk.”
Molly smirks, but it’s not as lively as usual. “I always knew dating a doctor would come in handy. If I weren’t feeling like death warmed over, I’d be all over some doctor-patient role-play.”
“Doesn’t that usually require you taking on different roles than real life?” a familiar deep voice calls out.
My spine stiffens and I suck in a breath. When I snap my head toward the large eat-in kitchen, Drew rounds the corner from the stairs. The instant he sees me standing there, he comes to a dead stop, his reaction identical to my own. We haven’t spoken since I left him Sunday night, when I couldn’t even tell him I regretted that we’d almost kissed…twice. As I stare at him in a white t-shirt that leaves a few of the tattoos on his arms visible, jeans that fall from his hips perfectly, his hair a bit messy, his jaw unshaven, I still can’t say with certainty I regret it.
When he crosses his arms in front of his chest, it seems every muscle in his body tightens from the motion. His biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt and I can make out the definition in his chest. It’s superficial, but I’ve always loved his body…even when he was a teenager and had just started building muscle. The years have been great to him. More than great. Fantastic. Magnificent. Stupendous. I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but I can’t stop imagining how perfect it would be to fall asleep enveloped in those arms. Then I remind myself I did…once. I thought it was our second chance. But I was wrong. Again.
A smirk forms on Drew’s lips, having caught me ogling his muscles. I tear my gaze from him, focusing on the hardwood floor, as if there would be a test on the pattern of the grains later on. I curse myself for not paying attention to the cars in the driveway or along the street. If I had, I would have noticed his SUV. Would that have changed anything? Not likely, but at least I would have been prepared to see him.
“If I remember correctly, Noah’s a doctor,” Drew finally finishes.
“But I was never his patient,” Molly argues.
“You’re crazy enough to need to see a neurologist,” he jokes.
“That’s not what a neur
ologist does,” she states. “I’m crazy enough to need to see a psychologist. So, Brook…”
When she says my name, I whip my head toward her, pretending as if this situation were normal. Last week, it would have been. But so many things I thought I buried years ago have resurfaced. I wonder if Molly senses this, too. How could she not feel the tension?
“Be sure to keep some space open in your calendar in a few years once you get your PhD.”
“Will do,” I say with a smile, then sigh.
All week, I’ve been looking forward to some girl time with Molly, some time when we could talk, just the two of us without anyone else listening in. Ever since she moved in with Noah and got pregnant, we’ve seen each other less and less. I’m thrilled she finally found someone who makes her happy, but right now, I need a normal day with my best friend. Instead, I’ve never felt so alone, like a fish swimming against a current with no relief in sight.
“I guess I’ll just go by myself today.”
“No. Don’t do that. I’m sure this will clear up over the weekend. We’ll go next week.”
I shake my head. “I cleared my schedule for today. With everything else going on, I’m not sure when I’ll have another chance to go shopping. I’ll already be cutting it close to the wedding as it is in regard to the dress being ready in time. I don’t even want to think what Mrs. Bradford will have to say if I skip today.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Brook. I hate that I’m letting you down.” She reaches for me, and I take her hand in mine.
“You’re not, Molly. I promise. You’re turning food into a human. You need to take care of yourself and my nephew. That’s more important than you watching me try on dress after dress. I’ll just go by myself and text you the photos.”
“Okay.” Her lips turn into a frown, her remorse-filled expression making it obvious she hates having to miss today as much as I hate she can’t be there. I give her a reassuring smile and begin to retreat when she calls out, “Brooklyn, wait! You don’t have to go by yourself.”
I turn back toward her, giving her a skeptical look. “Who d’you have in mind? Gigi?”
“Drew can go with you.”
On a quick inhale, my eyes widen. I’m already questioning my decision to marry Wes. The last thing I need is to have Drew with me as I try on dresses for my wedding to another man. The idea doesn’t just make me uncomfortable. It makes my stomach churn. Yes, to the outside world, Drew’s just a friend. I’ve been fooling myself to think we can ever truly just be friends. Our history is too tainted.
“You’re not doing anything today, are you?” Molly looks at her brother.
“I have to pick up the girls at two,” he answers, his quick response evidence he’s just as uneasy about the idea.
“She’ll be done before then.” Molly glances at me. “Won’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then it’s settled.” Her face brightens, at complete odds with the misery prevalent just moments ago. “Drew, you’ll take Brooklyn.”
I lift my eyes to his, fidgeting with my hands. “I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do today. There’s no reason for you to waste it shopping with me. You don’t have to come.”
“Yes, he does.” Molly grits out a smile, giving Drew what I can only refer to as “the look”. I’ve seen it before, usually on Aunt Gigi’s face. She’s a master at “the look”, and Molly learned it from her. “If you thought I was a pain in the ass in an argument before, you haven’t seen anything now that my hormones are out of whack. If you don’t take Brooklyn, it could be the start of the zombie apocalypse.”
She shifts her hardened stare between the two of us, a long moment passing while we both struggle to come up with a valid reason this is a bad idea, one Molly won’t read too much into. I want to tell her my friendship with her brother is a ticking time bomb, but I don’t. I stay silent, like I always do. A part of me does like the idea of spending the day with Drew.
“Well, since I don’t have my ax or machete handy,” Drew begins, facing me, “we should probably do as she says.” His lips lift in the corners, his slight smile chipping away at my annoyance with the situation.
“And since I don’t possess any skills that would help me survive a zombie invasion, I suppose I have no choice, either.” I glance at my watch. “But if we’re going to do this, we should get going. My first appointment is in a half-hour.”
Drew gestures toward the front door. “After you.”
“Thank you.”
“Have fun, you two,” Molly calls out as we walk toward the entryway and into the crisp air.
As I make my way down the front steps, a hand lands on my lower back. Drew probably doesn’t even realize he did it, this gesture common between us, but the warmth of his hand on me makes my breathing increase, my cheeks heat, my body hum. Every inch of me sparks to life, a rush I haven’t felt since he had me pinned on the ice, since we were enclosed in his bathroom as I tended to his wounds. I haven’t felt this needy and alive even when Wes made love to me the few times I’ve seen him this week. It solidifies my original reaction. Today is going to be a complete disaster.
“I’ll drive,” Drew offers in the thick silence.
“You don’t have to. You’re generous enough to do this when I’m sure you have better things to do today—”
“But you need me. That’s what friends do. They drop everything else to help someone they care about.” He leads me across the street toward his large, silver SUV, opening the passenger door for me.
I pause, meeting his eyes. “Thanks for being so cool about this. Not just today, but with everything. With letting Alyssa and Charlotte be my flower girls, even though it might be during the Stanley Cup.”
“There are more important things in life than hockey. You’ve always been more important than hockey, Brooklyn.”
Staring at him, I consider his response, then blow out a breath as I duck into the car. I want to believe him, but too many painful memories resurface, reminding me that his words aren’t true, that I’ve never been and never will be a priority to him.
Chapter 15
Drew
“You must be Ms. Tanner,” a voice says as we step into a small boutique on Newbury Street. The hustle of the city has disappeared, and we’re now surrounded by nothing but quiet interspersed with low-level classical music.
A petite woman stands from an ornate wooden desk, the wall behind it showcasing black-and-white prints of brides in extravagant wedding gowns. She’s slender, and the combination of her chic business attire and blonde hair pinned into a low bun makes her look every part the professional stylist the clientele here on Newbury Street want.
“We were worried whether you’d show. My name’s Judy.” She holds her hand out to Brooklyn and they briefly shake. “I’ll be assisting you today.”
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Brooklyn’s voice is soft and apologetic. There’s something so musical about the lilt in it. I’ve always thought her voice to be pacifying, but lately, I’ve found it even more soothing. “We hit traffic and had trouble finding a close spot, so we had to park at the Common.” Brooklyn looks back at me, and Judy notices me for the first time.
“Ah, I see you’ve brought your groom with you.” She lifts a brow, assessing my appearance, her nose wrinkling in displeasure.
I scan my wardrobe — jeans with frayed hems, a white t-shirt that’s seen better days, and sneakers with worn treads. With the college hockey season at an end, I no longer work on Fridays and had planned on catching up on everything I’ve avoided the past few months…until Molly called insisting I bring over the bouncer and swing from when the girls were babies. Now I can’t shake the feeling it was a ploy to force Brooklyn and me to spend the day together.
“It’s a bit unusual, but I guess more brides are breaking from tradition these days.”
“Oh, no,” Brooklyn corrects quickly. “He’s not the groom. Drew’s a friend. More like a brother,” she adds, h
er cheeks turning pink.
Judy looks at her with skepticism. I wonder if she can sense our history is much more convoluted than that. “Typically, the bride brings her mother or maid of honor to help choose, but I suppose it doesn’t matter since Mrs. Bradford stopped by last night and pre-selected dresses for you to try on. I have your room all prepared.” She spins, heading from the reception area.
“She what?” Brooklyn’s frozen in place, obviously taken aback by this news.
“Yes.” Judy stops in her tracks, looking back at us. “Oh, don’t worry.” She smiles, surveying Brooklyn’s oversized sweater and jeans tucked into worn boots. Her expression is similar to the distaste the saleswoman showed Julia Roberts’ character in Pretty Woman when she tried to go shopping. This boutique is on the higher end, but I hate the idea of anyone looking at Brooklyn like she’s not important. “She requested to be charged for the cost of the dress, as long as it’s one she selected,” she assures her, mistaking her surprise for concern about the price. “The dressing room is this way.”
Brooklyn remains in place for several more moments, then shakes her head. Her eyes losing what little excitement they had, her shoulders slump. “Of course,” she mumbles, shuffling behind Judy and through a large showroom, me close on her heels.
Racks fill the cluttered space, all of them stuffed with wedding dresses spanning every style, from simple and elegant to exceptional and over-the-top. As we head farther inside, I feel out of place, like a priest in a brothel. Yes, I’ve been married before, but there was no big wedding. Hell, there was no engagement. After a month of incredible sex, I couldn’t think of a reason not to marry Carla, so we hopped on a flight to Vegas and tied the knot. In retrospect, there were a lot of reasons we shouldn’t have married, but the young, stupid version of myself wouldn’t have listened, particularly to the voice inside saying I was only doing it in the hopes of finally forgetting about Brooklyn.