by Terri Austin
Iain had affection for a few people, that was undeniable. But not for Brynn. It had all been an act. And knowing that was so torturous, she almost couldn’t stand it.
Iain’s daily phone calls weren’t helping either. What was his endgame? The jig was up. She knew the truth, so why did he keep trying?
At first, she listened to the messages, replaying them, trying to find a nuance in his words. He sounded concerned, sincere. But she couldn’t trust it. So Brynn started erasing the messages without listening. She didn’t want to hear his meaningless apologies. Because even though she knew it was bullshit, Brynn wished they were true—that he was sorry. That he loved her. That he wanted her back.
Her thoughts lapped in circles until she shut her laptop and wandered into the kitchen. Time for more coffee.
Tasha and Paige stood near the sink. They stopped whispering the minute she entered.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Tasha said, leaning against the counter.
Paige shook her head. “Nope. Nothing going on here.”
“Tell me.” After setting her mug down, Brynn crossed her arms and gave them each a stony glare.
“Iain bought plane tickets for Tasha’s family to come and visit.” Tash elbowed Paige in the ribs. “Ouch. What? She’d find out anyway.”
“I do not wish to tell you this,” Tash said. “Your Englishman crush your heart like tank rolling through village. He is asshole and on my long list of shit.”
That was surprisingly accurate. Again, why was Iain going to these lengths? So Brynn would think he was a good guy? That ship had sailed. She knew exactly who he was. Unless he’s trying to show you how much he cares. Huh. Right.
“That’s not all.” Paige grabbed a phone and pulled up a text. “Read this.”
It was from Cass. Iain had bought TDTC.
Brynn stepped backward until she fell into a chair. “She sold the business? To Iain?”
“Apparently.” Paige shrugged. “I called Peanut Allergy Brandon and got the lowdown. Cass is now the figurehead and gets a yearly salary.”
Tasha pursed her lips. “He try to win your affection. On me, this may work. I have romantic side. Zeke could use lesson from your Englishman.”
He was trying to get her back. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Brynn hated him. With a passion. A strong, deep, yearning passion. Give it up, jellyfish. You still love him. Yeah, she did. But so what? Love didn’t conquer shit. All gestures aside, love wasn’t going to turn Iain into an honorable man. Her instincts had been wrong. He wasn’t good. And he wasn’t decent. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying.
Feeling exhausted and conflicted, Brynn stalked to the living room and grabbed her bag. “I’m going out for a while.”
Brynn left the house and started the car. Without conscious thought, she headed for Allie’s place. Brynn had only stayed at the mansion one night. The next morning, despite Allie’s pleas, Brynn had gone home and gotten to work. She had a new business and Paige was depending on her. She refused to sit around and mope over Iain and the destruction of her short marriage.
But now she needed her family—the comfort of Allie’s fussing, the shouts of her rowdy nephews, and Trevor’s cutting wit. Also, Brynn could use a scone. Or six. She wanted to stuff her feelings with carbs and fat.
When she pulled through the gates and around the curved brick drive, Monica’s Mustang already sat in the driveway. As Brynn turned off the ignition, something in the corner of the floorboard glinted in the sunlight. Her wedding ring. Brynn leaned over the passenger seat and snagged it. It was a really beautiful ring. I wanted to buy the biggest bloody diamond they had, but I thought this would suit you better. He knew her. Not just the facts in the background report. Iain understood things about her no report would ever be able to tell him.
She made a fist around the ring, letting the prongs dig into her skin. Brynn didn’t like this new pessimistic streak she’d developed. It wasn’t her. The truth was Iain Chapman had brought her joy. She may have made a terrible mistake by trusting in him, but while they were together, she’d been blissful. She couldn’t regret that. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it another day without him, but eventually, years down the road, she’d look back and be grateful for the lessons Iain had taught her, like how to stand up for herself and ask for what she wanted. Those were good things to take away from this.
She didn’t put the ring back on but stuck it in her pocket as she walked into the house without knocking. She felt it through her jeans, like a hot secret, burning a hole through the denim.
Voices carried from the drawing room, so Brynn started down the hallway. But when Monica mentioned Iain’s name, Brynn drew to a halt outside the door and eavesdropped.
“Can you believe this guy? He bought three mobile compact mammogram machines. They can literally drive these vans to a village, give breast screenings, and then move on to the next location. We’re sending two to Africa and one to India. I’m still in shock.”
“He donated a million dollars to the foundation,” Allie said. “In Brynn’s name.”
Did Iain really believe this would work? He’d throw some money at her friends and family and she’d go running back? He couldn’t buy her forgiveness.
Turning on her heel, Brynn walked out to the garden. The day was stifling and oppressive. Normally, she loved the floral aroma, but today the blooms reminded Brynn of her wedding day, when Iain had filled the bedroom with flowers. Brynn had felt so close to him. All those promises—he had never meant a word of it. Did you mean it, jellyfish? In good times and bad, till death and all the rest? At the time she had.
She sat on a bench beneath an arbor, bent in half with her face in her hands. The fountain burbled softly, breaking up the quiet. When she sensed someone next to her, Brynn glanced up. “Hey, Trev.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“It’s your garden.”
He sat and crossed one leg over the other. He wore an expensive suit, which reminded Brynn of Iain. Everything reminded her of Iain.
“Are you as miserable as you look?”
“Probably,” she said. “How miserable do I look?”
“Very. And how am I, you ask?”
Brynn straightened and stared at the fountain. “I didn’t ask.”
“An oversight on your part, I’m sure. My sex life is suffering because my darling wife is worried about you.”
“The trickle-down effect?”
“Indeed.”
“Sorry my failed marriage is keeping you from getting laid.” Brynn loved Trevor, but every once in a while he was a pain in the ass. Today was shaping up to be one of those times.
“Pity, that.” His quick glance took in her face, her uncombed hair. “If it’s any consolation, I believe he loves you.”
“Iain?”
“No, the postman. Of course Iain.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He never actually came to me for an investment. Didn’t contact me at all. He had his chance to, that night after the family dinner. But instead, when he saw you were blind drunk, he took you home. The way he cared for you, touched you—well, I knew then how he felt.”
A tiny spark of hope flickered to life, but Brynn squashed it. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“Excellent.” Trevor patted the top of her head as if she were still a child. “You can do miles better. He’s a working-class upstart who’s so far beneath you, his interest is an insult. That he was presumptuous enough to touch you, let alone marry you—well, you’ll do better the next time, I’m sure.”
With her upper lip curled into a sneer and hands fisted at her sides, Brynn leaped to her feet. “That’s a really horrible thing to say. Even for you. Iain didn’t start out with all of your advantages. His home life was brutal. You have no idea. He’s worked hard to get to where he is, and I’m not going to sit here and listen to you put him down. Just because he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mou
th doesn’t make him any less of a person. You’re a classist snob, Trevor Blake. And might I remind you, Allie’s from a working-class family? My working-class family.” Brynn thumped her chest. “So what does that make you?”
“Terribly fortunate.” Trevor stood and peered down at her. “Sounds like you still care for the bloke after all.”
Trevor had been trying to provoke her, and Brynn had taken the bait. She rolled her eyes and unclenched her hands. “Congratulations, you got me to admit it. I can’t just stop loving him overnight. It doesn’t work that way.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
* * *
Iain spent the morning in a very morose and unproductive way, by ambling through the building near Fremont Street. When he’d taken Brynn there, Iain had been so full of pride, so certain of his future success. But as he ripped a board from the window and stared out at the property across the street, he was ready to let it go. Let it all go. None of it mattered. Not without her.
Brynn softened his razor-sharp edges. She centered him, gave him peace and comfort. If she weren’t here, what was the bloody point of it all? He tried to show her that he loved her by helping Tasha, by giving to Allie’s and Monica’s charities, buying Cass’s business. It made no difference. She still hadn’t contacted him. Brynn was through.
Iain usually looked at a problem and came up with six different solutions simultaneously. But now he was rudderless. That old feeling of desperation reared its head.
Iain replaced the board and left the building. He wouldn’t come here again. His ambitions for this place had cost him everything.
On his way back to the office, he stopped by Marc’s house. Though he didn’t smell of alcohol, Marc’s gaunt frame was worrisome. His hair was longer than he normally kept it, and he hadn’t shaved in days, possibly weeks. But at least he was sober.
“You again, eh?” Marc turned and left Iain on the doorstep.
Not the friendliest welcome, but Iain would take it. He trailed Marc to the living room.
“If you’re going to harass me about coming to work—” He flopped onto the sofa.
“I’m not,” Iain said. “I just popped ’round to check on you.”
“Oh. Well, as you see, I’m fine. Go away, your conscience is clear.”
“Hardly. Look, if you want out of the business, we’ll sell everything and divide it. If you’d rather be a silent partner, that’s fine too. Whatever you want, mate. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Marc propped his bare foot on the coffee table. “Don’t just stand there like a twat. You’re giving me a crick in me neck.”
Iain unbuttoned his jacket and sat in the chair. He gazed around the enormous room and up at the cathedral ceilings. “This house is far too big for one person. What are you going to do now, sell?”
“I don’t know. I may just sit here, watching telly, until I keel over. What are you sorry for specifically?”
Iain rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Everything. That you lost her. That I didn’t treat you as an equal partner. That I’m a know-it-all prat.”
“Yeah. You are a prat. But I let you take charge, didn’t I? Easier that way. Less worry for me. I put it all on your shoulders.”
“I thought I had it all figured out. Turns out, I’m a bloody fool.”
“We both are,” Marc said.
“Do you still want to sell off the downtown properties?”
Marc studied him. “We’ll probably take a loss, what with the taxes we’ve paid in the last couple years and the market being what it is.”
“I know. But I don’t care anymore, do I? I’ve lost Brynn. She won’t talk to me. Not a word.”
“Look at us, making a total bollocks of it all. Mel went to stay at her mum’s and told me to respect her choices. Says she needs ‘head space.’ What the hell does that even mean? And how long do I give her?”
“Exactly. How long is too long?” Iain stood. “And I’m tired of waiting for her to call. She’s still me wife. I’ll give her anything she wants, except a divorce. But she has to talk to me at some point, yeah?”
Marc lowered his foot. “Spot on. And I should go get Melanie. Bring her home. I love her, right? She belongs here with me. If I didn’t want to be rushed into marriage, we should talk it out. Like two rational adults.”
“Cheers. This is what I’ve said to Brynn.” Iain nodded and began pacing the room. “Listen to the pair of us, moaning like old women. When did we lose our balls, mate? You should bring Mel back to Vegas.”
Marc stood. “I’ve been whinging for weeks. Like a schoolgirl. What the bloody hell?”
They looked at each other and grinned. Iain walked forward and lightly smacked Marc on the side of the head. “Bring her home, yeah?”
“You too. Even if it takes the rest of your life, you’ll get her back.”
“The rest of me life?” he echoed. Still, what kind of life did he have without Brynn? Not much of one. Work. Sleep. Snarling at people. That was hardly an existence.
“Come on, now. You’re Iain Chapman. She won’t be able to resist your charms for long. I’m going to fly to Arkansas and get Mel. I’ll be back by next week, I guarantee it.”
When Iain left the house, he felt lighter, but once he glanced at his phone and saw that Brynn hadn’t called, stark reality set in once more. He looked at the dice in his hand and shoved them in his pocket. Despite all his big talk in front of Marc, for the first time since he was a lad, Iain didn’t know how to go about achieving his goal. Desperate. He couldn’t force Brynnie into taking him back. He couldn’t seduce her or use flowery language. So how could he convince her to give him another chance?
Iain called her again and left a message. Was she even listening to them? Maybe she was ignoring him altogether. Bloody hell.
Back at the office, Iain tried to put on a friendly face for the team. He nodded at a few people, said hello. As he passed the conference room, he noticed Amelia’s lad, Tyler, sitting at the table. Iain poked his head in the doorway. “Why aren’t you in school?”
Tyler glanced up from his tablet. “Teacher’s conference. Mom said you wouldn’t mind if I’m here.”
“I don’t mind.” He started to walk away.
“Hey, Iain.”
He turned and walked back. “Yeah?”
“I did that thing you said. I found my enemy’s weakness.”
“How’d it go?”
“Adam, the kid who makes fun of me the most, he has this blond hair that he’s always messing with. He uses a lot of gel and stuff. Anyway, he was making fun of me at lunch and I called him Goldilocks. Everyone laughed.”
“So it worked then.” Always did. Everyone had a fatal flaw. And yours is overconfidence. Too much damned pride.
“Yeah, but I feel bad. He got his hair buzzed last week, but everyone’s calling him Goldie.”
Iain walked into the room. “Well, maybe it’s good that you feel bad. Means you’re an honest person, yeah? That you care about other people.” That’s what Brynn had been trying to tell him, but Iain had been too bullheaded to listen. If he could go back, he’d do things differently. Iain rapped his knuckles on the table. “Now, stop playing that video game and do some studying, yeah? Your mum’s worried about your maths.”
He walked to his office suite, stopping in front of Amelia’s desk. “Marc is going to Arkansas to get Mel.”
“I’ll book him a flight. Your brother-in-law is waiting in your office. He’s been here for an hour.”
Iain’s brows slammed together. “Trevor?”
“Yep.”
“You just let him into my office, did you?”
“What was I supposed to do, tackle him?” She looked down and started tapping on her keyboard.
Iain braced himself, adjusted his tie, and strode into the room. “Trevor.”
The toff was sitting on the couch looking quite at home as he jabbed at his phone screen. “About time.”
“Why are you here? Is Brynn all right?”
Did she send him?
“Quite well. Saw her a couple of hours ago.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“Doubtful.” Maddening, he was.
“So what’s this about, then?” With his hands in his pockets, he lowered his head. Trevor wanted something. Iain could feel it in his bones.
“I’m here to make you an offer.”
“Are you now?” Iain didn’t trust any offer coming from Trevor Blake. The man hated him. And he had every right. Iain silently waited him out.
Trevor stood and glanced down at his phone one last time. “I’ll invest in your downtown properties. All of them.” He sauntered to the middle of the room. “Give you seventy-five percent of the money up front.”
“Will you now? That’s very generous.”
“I want something in return.” When Trevor smiled, he flashed his teeth. Like a shark.
“Course you do,” Iain said. “Can’t wait to hear this caveat of yours.”
“In return for my investment, you’ll divorce Brynn and agree to never contact her again.”
Iain laughed, but it wasn’t funny. The nerve of this knob, waltzing into Iain’s office and laying down impossible rules. Never see Brynn again? Not an option. “Fuck off.”
Trevor raised one brow and appraised him with those chilly, gray eyes. “I thought this was what you wanted. It’s a sound plan, converting those old buildings into livable space. Fremont is expanding, and it’s just a matter of time before someone else pounces on the idea. Brynn’s too good for you. Let her get on with her life and find a man who’s worthy of her.”
Iain very carefully removed his hands from his pockets. His body hummed with anger. With his jaw clamped tight, Iain took three steps forward until only an inch separated him from Trevor. “Oh, I know I’m not good enough for her. Not even close. But I love that woman, and I’m not giving her up. Now if you don’t get out of here, I’ll—”
Trevor waved one hand. “Do calm down. I left her in my garden. Defending you. If you hurry, she might still be there.”
“Wha’?”
“Quite.”
Iain stood frozen to the spot. Had that been a test of some sort?