Undone

by Shannon Richard

“It’s okay, Brendan,” she whispered.

  He reached up and placed his hands over hers. “No, it isn’t,” he said, shaking his head. He grabbed her hands and loosened them, turning as he pulled her in front of him. “I would never hurt you, Paige,” he said, shaking his head. His eyes held so much pain that it made her chest hurt.

  “I know,” she said, reaching up and touching his face.

  “Just the thought of it makes me sick.” As he said it his voice broke and his eyes were glossy.

  “Brendan,” Paige said, wrapping her arms around him, “with you, I’ve never felt as safe, or as cared for, or as loved.”

  “I can’t protect you from what she writes,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You can’t protect me from everything.”

  “I can try,” he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to her temple.

  * * *

  Brendan had convinced Paige to start staying at his house, thank God, but there was an ever-present fear he wouldn’t be able to convince her to stay in Mirabelle. She hadn’t been shy about her feelings for the tiny town the first time he’d met her. She’d never planned on relocating there, on staying there. But it wasn’t like Philadelphia had been that much better for her. She hadn’t been able to fulfill her dreams there, so maybe if she were able to do that in Mirabelle she’d want to stay.

  And she wouldn’t leave him.

  For two weeks, Brendan stayed up for a little while after Paige, watching her sleep next to him, and trying to figure out a plan.

  She wanted to sell her art, something that wasn’t going to happen when it was tucked away in a corner. It had to be displayed so that people could see it, so that they could buy it. So he needed to find some empty walls in a high-traffic area, or in many high-traffic areas.

  It was on a Thursday morning that he finally presented her with the plan. She walked into the kitchen, wearing some sort of burnt orange sweater dress that molded to her curves. He handed her a cup of coffee, thinking she might need a few sips of caffeine before he told her.

  “Hmm,” she hummed, taking a drink and stepping into him. “You make a damn fine cup of coffee.”

  “That so,” he said, leaning back against the counter and wrapping his arm around her back. He pulled her snuggly in between his thighs and let his hand drop down her waist to her bottom. “I haven’t seen this dress before.”

  “That would be because it’s only just gotten cold enough to wear it.”

  “I like it,” he said, letting his gaze drop to her chest. “It will be fun peeling you out of it tonight.”

  “You think you’re going to get lucky?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “A man can hope.”

  Paige got about halfway through her coffee when Brendan broached the subject. “So I was thinking,” he said putting his cup down behind him.

  “About?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  He ran both of his hands up and down her side. “You selling your art.”

  “What?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

  “You told me your dream was to sell your art. And you could do that here, Paige. There are plenty of people in town, and between the snowbirds and summer vacationers, there are a lot of people who pass through. And I think you could have a booth at the fall festival next year. People would go crazy for your work.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head.

  “You don’t think so for which part of it?”

  “Any of it.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because, I just don’t think it would work.” She frowned, putting her cup on the counter next to his. “I’ve never displayed anything before.”

  “That isn’t true,” he said, shaking his head. “You have one of your paintings hanging up in your office. You put your photographs in the tributes. The Web site for the funeral home has a lot of your designs on it. All of that is your work, and all of that is seen by people on a daily basis.”

  “Yes, but I’m not selling it. I don’t know how that would go over.”

  “Well, we’ll never know unless we try.”

  “We?” she asked more than just a little bit agitated. “I didn’t realize that you were out there painting with me. That it was your work too.”

  “I meant that I was in this with you,” he said, starting to get agitated himself.

  “Really?” she asked skeptically.

  “You doubt me?”

  “Where would we sell it?” Paige asked, ignoring his question.

  “At the café, and at Pinky and Panky’s shops. They were all for it.”

  Something blazed in her eyes as she stared at him openmouthed. It took a second for her to speak. “You already talked to people about this?” she asked, pulling herself away from him. That little gesture alone had his heart plummeting to his feet.

  “I thought this was what you wanted, to display your work and sell it. You said that was your dream.”

  “It is my dream.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that this isn’t your decision. The problem is that you had no right to ask other people to sell my art before you even talked to me.”

  “I’m talking to you about it now. I was trying to do something so you could get your dream, because you obviously aren’t doing anything about it.”

  She inhaled sharply and took another step back from him.

  “Paige, I didn’t mean that,” he said, rubbing a spot on his forehead.

  “Oh, I think you did.”

  “Let me explain,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I was just trying to help.”

  But she held out her hands, palms up. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m done talking about this. I don’t want or need your help,” she said before she turned around and walked away from him.

  But all Brendan had heard was she didn’t need him. And that killed him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Why Don’t You Stay…Forever

  Focusing wasn’t even an option for Paige. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that hurt look on Brendan’s face, and it made her feel awful, made her hurt.

  But Brendan didn’t get it. He didn’t understand she was terrified. Her work was a part of her, and if people rejected her work, they were ultimately rejecting her. She didn’t know if she could handle that. Selling her art was her dream. What if she failed? What if she couldn’t sell her art in Mirabelle? What other option did she have? She couldn’t leave, and that wasn’t because she was stuck here, but because she didn’t want to leave.

  Mirabelle had become her home. Yes, it had taken a few months, but she’d finally found her place. Found a job that she actually enjoyed going to, despite Missy and Verna. She’d found a good group of friends who she’d gotten close to. And she’d found the love of her life.

  Paige couldn’t leave Brendan.

  “What’s up with you?” Grace asked as they got dessert ready in the little kitchen at the café. “You barely talked at lunch, and you look miserable.”

  Paige put the spoon that she’d been scooping the cobbler with down on the dish.

  “Brendan and I had a fight.”

  “About damn time,” Grace said, picking up the spoon and resuming the scooping. “You two have just been too lovey-dovey. So what was the fight about?”

  “Did he talk to you about selling my art here?” she asked, leaning back against the counter and folding her arms across her chest.

  “Yes,” Grace said, looking up. “He talked to me and Grams.”

  “When?”

  “He came by on Tuesday.”

  “He talked to Pinky and Panky too. He said all of you were all for it.”

  “For doing something for you? Why wouldn’t we be?” Grace asked. “And more to the point, why aren’t you all for it?”

  “What if no one buys it? What if no one finds my work worth it?”

  “You mean what if no one finds you worth it?” Grace a
sked. “Paige, I’ve seen your work and it’s amazing. You should hear the way Brendan talks about it, talks about you. The first time you showed him your stuff he raved about it. Went on and on and on about how incredible you are. How talented. He thinks Mirabelle has nothing to offer you and it terrifies him.”

  “Why is he scared?” Paige asked confused.

  “His father walked out on him, and though he tries to act like it doesn’t affect him, it does. A lot. And our mother’s death messed him up pretty good. Those two people leaving him, by choice or not, did something to him. I think that’s why he’s never really been in a serious relationship before. Then you slipped in and made him fall in love with you. Sweetie,” Grace said, reaching over and putting her hand on Paige’s arm, “he’s scared he’s going to lose you.”

  “He didn’t say anything,” Paige said, her heart hurting even more.

  “My brother is more of a take-action kind of guy. He sees a problem and he tries to fix it. He doesn’t want you to leave, so he’s trying to make it so you won’t.”

  “But, I’m not leaving,” Paige said, shaking her head.

  “Paige,” Grace said, giving her a sad smile, “that’s another thing. You can’t prove yourself with words. It has to be with actions. The only way he’ll know you won’t leave him is if you don’t leave him.”

  * * *

  Brendan was going out of his mind. He couldn’t concentrate for anything, and the shop was so slow that it was practically dead. There was nothing for Brendan to do to distract himself.

  “Why don’t you just go home?” Oliver finally asked around four thirty.

  Why didn’t he go home? Because he wasn’t sure if Paige would be coming back. Wasn’t sure if he was going to be sleeping alone tonight.

  “You need to go and talk to her,” Oliver continued. “Work things out.”

  Brendan merely looked at his grandfather.

  “Look, if you’re too chicken to deal with it, that’s your own problem. But you need to get out of my hair.”

  “Fine,” Brendan said, getting up. “And I’m not a chicken.”

  “Hmmm,” Oliver hummed as Brendan walked out of the office.

  Brendan didn’t go home. He went to Shep’s to get a beer. Maybe he was a bit of a chicken. So what?

  Brendan walked in just after five. There were a couple of people around, but it wasn’t crowded yet. Shep was behind the bar, getting everything ready for the night.

  “What are you doing here?” Shep asked when he saw him.

  “I need a drink,” Brendan said as he sat down.

  “Oh, hell, what did you do?”

  “Why is it you think I did something?”

  “Instinct.” Shep smirked.

  “You going to get me that beer?” Brendan frowned.

  “Sure thing,” Shep said, grabbing a mug and filling it.

  A second later Jax sat down in the stool next to Brendan. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I asked him that same question,” Shep said, putting the mug down in front of Brendan. “But he won’t tell me what bug is up his ass.”

  “What stupid thing did you do?” Jax asked.

  “You know, you both royally suck as friends,” Brendan said, grabbing the beer and downing a healthy portion of it.

  “What’s going on?” Shep asked seriously. “No more kidding around.”

  Brendan sighed and looked up. He told them both what he’d done. Trying to get Paige to sell her work there in Mirabelle. “I love her so damn much,” Brendan told them. “And I have no fucking clue how I can get her to stay.”

  “She going somewhere?” Jax asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Brendan said.

  “Then why are you worrying about it?” Shep asked.

  “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I don’t think that step is too far down the road.”

  “You’re serious?” Jax asked after a beat.

  “Yeah,” Brendan nodded. “She’s it for me.”

  “Wow,” Shep said, looking just a little bit stunned.

  “Does it surprise you that he’s the first?” Jax asked.

  “No,” Shep said, shaking his head. “’Cause it sure as hell wasn’t going to be either of us.”

  “Oh, you two are going to find girls who take your feet right out from under you,” Brendan said. “And you aren’t going to know what hit you.”

  “In that case, Jax’s head has been spinning for years,” Shep said.

  Jax just frowned at Shep. And a second later Jax’s phone started ringing.

  “Hey, Princess,” Jax said.

  “Speak of the devil,” Shep said and grinned.

  Jax flipped him off.

  * * *

  Paige pulled up into Brendan’s driveway at just after five. He wasn’t home yet. So Paige let herself in and took Sydney outside. Then she pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. She sat down and waited for him to come home.

  The uneasy feeling in her stomach had only gotten worse since she’d left the café. She just wanted to fix things with Brendan, and the longer she had to wait in this empty house, the crazier she was going. By five thirty, she needed a drink. She got up, poured herself a glass of wine, and restationed herself on the couch. By six, she was starting to feel a little bit desperate. It wasn’t unusual for Brendan to be home after six. Depending on how busy they were at the shop, he’d sometimes have to stay late.

  Finally at six fifteen, Sydney’s head came up and she ran to the door. A minute later, Brendan’s keys jangled in the lock and he pushed the door open.

  “Hey,” she said, pulling her legs out from under her and standing up.

  She watched him walk in, studying his face. His mouth was in a firm line and his shoulders were tense.

  “Hey,” he said, coming into the room. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”

  “Did you not want me to be?” she asked nervously.

  “Paige, I always want you here.”

  “About this morning—” she started.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, interrupting her and holding out his hands palms up. “You made it perfectly clear you didn’t want to do it. And that’s fine. I won’t push you, Paige. I’m done.”

  So Brendan was apparently still angry.

  “You’re done?” she asked as her stomach dropped. She thought she was going to be sick.

  “Talking about it,” he said, going into the kitchen.

  She stood there for a second, staring at empty space, before she followed him into the kitchen. He was at the fridge, bending over and looking in the open door.

  “Are you done with me?” she asked softly.

  He stood up abruptly. He turned as he shut the door, a beer in his hand.

  “No,” he said, his eyebrows coming together.

  Paige closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out in a wave of relief. There was a thunk and Paige opened her eyes. Brendan had put his beer down on the counter and he was crossing the room to her.

  He grabbed her and pulled her into him. He reached up and grabbed her face, planting his mouth firmly on hers. He worked at her mouth, nipping her bottom lip aggressively, before he pulled back.

  “I’m not done with you Paige,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “One fight isn’t going to change that.”

  “Did you do this because you’re scared of losing me?” she asked.

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes, running his thumb across her cheek. “Yes,” he said.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Brendan. I’m not leaving.”

  “Even if you’re miserable here?”

  “I’m not miserable here,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Maybe not right now, but in ten years, when you’re not doing what you dreamed of doing? What then? I don’t want you to give up on anything. To make sacrifices.”

  “Life is about sacrifices.”

 
“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice this,” he said, his mouth going back to that firm stubborn line.

  “You think I can sell my work? That people will actually buy it?”

  “We’re talking about it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Brendan, I was wrong,” she said, putting her hands on his chest. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I don’t want you to stop pushing me. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too,” he said.

  “You think I can do this?”

  “Yes, I do. I think you’ve got so much to offer and people are going to fall in love with what you can do.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “I don’t see that happening. I believe in you. I believe in what you’re capable of,” he said, kissing her temple.

  “I’m scared,” she said, turning her face into his neck.

  “That’s how you know it’s worth it. Falling in love with you was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. It’s also the greatest.”

  “Me too.”

  They just stood there, holding each other for a moment. His hands running up and down her back.

  “So are you going to do it?” he asked, pulling back so he could look at her.

  “Yeah, I am,” she said and nodded.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She smiled.

  “Good. You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?” he said, reaching up to touch her chin and gently tilting her face up so that he could place a small kiss on her lips.

  “I know,” she said under his mouth.

  * * *

  Over the next couple of weeks, Paige’s stuff slowly started to accumulate at Brendan’s. She’d attempted to pack a bag to take back to her parents’ house to trade out for new clothes, but Brendan had told her he’d just make more room for her things. It didn’t make sense to continually bring stuff back and forth.

  Toward the end of November, Paige came back one day to find a dresser that hadn’t been there when she’d left for work that morning. She dropped her shoes by the bedroom door and went over to it, running her fingers across the wood. It was an antique, stained a dark cherry brown with six drawers, three on each side.

  “It was my great-grandmother’s.”

  Paige turned to see Brendan standing in the doorway.