by L. B. Dunbar
What are you doing, lovie? Mum would say in her accent with all the concern of being Mum.
“I’m not fucking her,” I snap, staring back at my sister, shocked at the directness of her words.
“Fucking with,” Tom clarifies, pointing out I missed a word. I narrow my eyes at him. “There’s a difference.”
“Semantics,” I bark, waving out my arms. “But I’m not doing it, and I don’t see why it would be anyone’s business, if I were. We’re adults.”
“But there’s a kid involved,” Jess adds, his voice low and equally concerned.
“Yeah, my kid,” I yell.
“What?” Jess asks, standing straighter near Emily.
“You didn’t hear? Gee is my son. His name is fucking Gavin Scott.”
“Holy shit,” Jess mutters, staring at me. “When did you find out?”
“At your wedding. It’s the drama you heard about.”
Jess continues to watch me, his jaw clenching as he processes what I’ve said, and I’m reminded he reached out with his concern for me. I didn’t respond to him other than to tell him to enjoy his honeymoon, and we’d talk when he returned.
“But this is good,” Ethan says, clapping my shoulder and jiggling me, and I’d forgotten he was standing near the entrance to the kitchen.
“It sounds wonderful,” Emily says, mirroring my sentiment from the other day.
“And Gavin’s moving here,” Ethan announces.
“I’m not moving here.” I turn on him, glaring at him as I recall the fight we had outside the hospital. My voice has risen as all eyes are on me. “There’s nothing here for me.”
The room goes eerily silent from my outburst, but the soft click of the front door sounds like a gunshot went off. I turn in the direction of the front of the house.
“What was that?” I snap, turning back to the quiet room full of stunned faces.
“The nothing you claim isn’t here for you,” Karyn states, narrowing her eyes at me, and even without Mum’s presence, I feel her disappointment.
Fuck.
+ + +
When I get to Britton’s, I’m ready to hammer down the door. I’m rattling the sliding door to her room, but she’s not answering it. Giving up on the sneaking in, I round the house and knock on the front door. Theo opens it, yanking it wide as though I’m disturbing him.
“Where’s Britton?”
“Not here,” her seventeen-year-old nephew defends, holding the edge of the door so I can’t see inside. His stance clearly states I’m not welcome.
“Her car’s here,” I bark.
“But she’s not.” He stands taller with his thin, teen frame, but giving off the air of a linebacker. He’s ready to protect this home from me.
Swiping both hands in my hair, I gaze down at my feet, then glance back up at Theo.
“Look, help me out. Where is she?” Theo shakes his head. Physically, I could take him if I needed to, but mentally, he’s locked up. He isn’t going to tell me anything.
“I might only be seventeen, but I know a thing or two about woman, and you fucked up here, old man.”
I’d love to argue that I’m not old at thirty-eight. One day, he’ll get to this age and realize how young it still is, but lately, I’m exhausted.
“I just need to see her. I need to explain something.”
Theo shakes his head. “I think you’ve said enough to her, man. You’re done.”
“Look, kid, I’m Gee’s dad. She and I have history, and we need to be in each other’s future. I need to see her.”
“Calling me kid makes me less inclined to tell you anything. Have a good night, old guy.” Theo starts to close the door on me, but I stop it with my hand and set my foot near the jamb in case he tries to slam it.
“If you don’t want to be treated like a kid, then act like a man, and help me find my girl.”
Theo bitterly chuckles. “I am acting like a man. I’m protecting my family.”
With that, he wedges my foot back with his and closes the door on me.
+ + +
After ten texts, I give up on finding Britton and return to my parents’ home, finding the house dark. I’m relieved everyone is gone. After I close the front door and head to the staircase, I hear a sound in the kitchen and quietly walk toward it.
“Still sneaking back in the house.” Dad guffaws, wrapping his hands around a coffee mug. He sits at the kitchen table without the lights on. Hunched over, he looks older than his sixty-something years. “Where’ve you been?”
I hesitate before answering. “At Britton’s.” I step forward and lean against the counter. The kitchen is small, but it was always the center of our house when we were kids.
“That girl’s been a lot of trouble,” he says to the table, twirling the mug in his hands. I scowl at the edge to his voice.
“That girl has a name, and it’s Britton,” I respond. “And she’s the mother of my child.” Dad glances up at my tone and nods once.
“Whatcha going to do about that?” It’s the million-dollar question. “Marry her? Take her to California with you?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet.” I cross my arms and then cross my ankles, looking down at my feet. We remain quiet for a minute.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.” He doesn’t need to remind me. I’m already angry I won’t be in her bed tonight. “Think you love her?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, but I do know. I love her. Things are complicated, but we need a chance. Too many things have been happening at once.
“Damn shame you don’t know because she’s going to be part of this family, with or without you.” My dad pauses a second. “Your mother just had a sense about that boy. She said she couldn’t put her finger on it, but she just knew he was yours even when it didn’t add up. She said he had mannerisms like you. Tics and that smile. A dimple only on one side.”
I lift my hand for my mouth, scrubbing around it as if I can find that matching dimple.
“She said she knew you’d be back one day. Didn’t know when or how, but someday.” Dad shakes his head. “I think she meant what she said when we left that night. She’d been waiting for you to come home before she let go. She was waiting for you to meet that boy and set the truth straight.”
My eyes burn, and I swipe them collectively before pinching at the bridge of my nose.
“Be a damn shame if you come home one day with some floozy when a good woman is right here waiting on you.”
“How do you know Britton’s waiting on me? And who says I’d end up with a floozy?”
“You’re right. Maybe be the other way around. She’ll find a good man who loves her and deserves her love in return, and he’ll love your kid while you’re off making movies.” Sarcasm fills his voice, and I’m not liking what he said. Britton’s already let another man love her and father my child.
“You don’t think very highly of me, do you?” I bitterly chuckle.
“I think you have a second chance at a few things, and I’m worried you’re going to throw it away as you did in the past.”
“I was hurt, Dad. I couldn’t get back in the game.”
Dad huffs, restoring us to old arguments.
“Do you know how hard it is to get a second chance at things? Your mum gave me a second chance when she followed me to this farm.” Mum and Dad met when Dad was gallivanting around Ireland. When his father died of a sudden heart attack, he came home from a trip that initially didn’t have an end date. He’d met Mum, and they were in love, but he’d just inherited the farm. She followed him, and they’d been together ever since.
I remember Mum telling me she was right where she was meant to be.
As I recall their love story, I sarcastically consider—wonder where my wanderlust came from. I’m staring at a man who isn’t much different from me.
“Some things are more important than a game, Gavin.” Dad interrupts my thoughts. “You have a chance to be a father here. But you’re goin
g to pass, aren’t you?”
“Jesus,” I hiss. “You have so little faith in me.”
“No, son. You have little faith in yourself.” He remains calm as he speaks, glancing up at me.
“What do you want me to do?” My voice rises as my arms flail out to my sides, and I uncross my ankles. Standing taller, I glare at my dad in the dark kitchen.
“I can’t tell you what to do. Never could. Decision’s all yours. Do you want to be a father or not?”
“I want to be a father,” I yell.
“Well, there’s your answer,” Dad says.
“That tells me nothing.” Do I move here like Ethan said? Can I work from anywhere like Jacob mentioned? I just don’t know what move to make next, but I know two things.
I want Gee . . . and I want Britton.
Where is she?
+ + +
I don’t try to sneak into Britton’s house later that night, and it takes two more days before I catch her at the tea shop. A woman in a suit has her attention when I enter, and Britton looks ready to hit her over the head with a tea kettle.
“You’ve been a very difficult woman to get a hold of,” the woman teases, and I couldn’t agree more, but as I’m watching Britton, her body language tells me she’s been avoiding this woman.
“I’m not selling,” she snaps, loud and adamant, then she clears her throat. “Miss Sterling, unless you’d like a tea or a scone, I’m going to need you to leave.” Her eyes leap to me but quickly away.
“I have a very interested buyer. He’s willing to pay double the amount as the last offer. He’s very persistent. He wants that land.” I don’t appreciate the edge to her voice, and while I can see that Britton is holding her own against the woman, the realtor is on her last nerve. “It could save you from that hefty tax bill.”
Britton stiffens while her employees both stop moving about. Jenna has been shuffling tea packets, restocking the cabinet close to the counter, while Henry has been simply moving stuff back and forth, keeping close to his boss in case he needs to hold her back or throw himself before her. It’s a comfort to see how much these two people care about Britton, but I care as well, and I’m not liking how this woman is bullying her.
“Excuse me, are you Rebecca Sterling?” I interject, stepping forward. She turns her head to me, doing a quick double take before shifting her body completely to face me. Her smile broadens, and I’ve seen this reaction on women in the past. “And you are?”
She’s sugar-sweet while her words drip with, what does she need to do to get in my pants. Yeah, that’s not happening, but years of fighting off women like her come back to me. I step closer, and her breath hitches. She reaches for her neckline.
“You’re interested in selling old Leo McCurdy’s place?”
“I am. I have a very hot prospect.” Her eyes roll down my body, but I keep my focus.
“And did I hear you mention an issue with the property?” Britton’s breath hitches behind the counter, but I don’t glance over at her.
“A tax bill issue.” Rebecca leans toward me like she’s imparting a secret and didn’t just share throughout the shop. Thankfully, it’s empty of other customers.
“Hmm. That does sound scandalous,” I tease, smiling like I’m in on the gossip. “And also, none of your damn business.”
She straightens at my directness while her mouth pops open.
“That tax bill isn’t going to be an issue for much longer, and I think you’ve been told repeatedly the land isn’t up for sale. If I hear you’ve come around Britton one more time or enter this shop without the intention of ordering a tea, I’ll have you investigated.”
I stare at her, my meaning clear.
“And who do you think you are?”
“I’m Gavin Scott, and I have a vested interest in that land myself. No one is getting it except the current owner. No one.” I glare at her.
Slowly, recognition sinks in. “Are you related to Jack and Sarah?”
“I certainly am.” Our orchard is one of the largest in the area. “Now, may I buy you a tea?”
She shakes her head before holding it higher. “No, thank you.”
“Then get out.”
“Well.” She huffs before brushing past me. The bell over the door jingles, and then it closes. Jenna has turned from stocking tea and stares at me while Henry does a slow clap. “That was epic.”
“That was just like that movie . . .” Jenna begins, but her words fade out as all I can do is look at Britton. She stares back at me before slapping the towel over her shoulder down to the counter and disappearing into the back.
“May I?” I ask Henry, nodding toward the back.
“Anything you want,” he says. I step around the counter and enter the back room. The space is small and cluttered, but a desk is in the corner, neat and clear. Britton leans against it, and I softly say her name as I near her.
“What was that?” She turns on me, her face red.
“You wanted her off your back, right?” Her eyes widen, and I’m struck for the millionth time by how beautiful she is.
“I can’t pay that tax bill off,” she says, waving out an arm. “I had to fundraise to afford Cooperstown for Gee and me. I’m barely keeping things together here. I’m barely breaking even.” Both hands swipe through her hair, holding it all back as she cups the sides of her neck.
“I don’t know what I thought I was doing.” Her voice falls, deflated and defeated.
“What are you talking about?”
“Another round of that damn bill comes due soon, and I won’t be able to pay it,” she admits. Shaking her head, she lowers it, looking down at her feet as she falls back to lean on the desk, this time with her backside against it.
“I don’t know how I thought I could own my own business, be a single mom, and juggle that property.”
“Britton, come on. You’re doing fine. You said so yourself.”
“I had no business sense. When I came up here, I only knew this is where I wanted to be. I always felt like I belonged when I was here. Patrick . . . he did it all. He helped secure the loan and wrote the plan. He took care of me, and it makes me feel so weak sometimes. I really thought I could pull this off, but I never foresaw Leo leaving me that house, and then I just couldn’t give it up. It means so much to me.” Her eyes fill as she looks up at me, and I step forward.
“I get that.” I do. She loved Leo, and that place has so many memories, but it’s more than that. She belongs here. “This was your place. You’ve also said that. You like it here, and you’re doing great. Gee is happy and involved, and so are you, right? You’re happy here.”
Another question lingers in my voice. Could I be happy here? Is there a place for me?
I step even closer to her. “Let me help you.”
Britton shakes her head. “I let Patrick take care of me, and I always felt guilty. Always. He was such a good man, Gavin. He never made me feel like a burden. I believed he truly loved me, but I wasn’t right for him. I didn’t feel the same, not on the deep level I should have, and the guilt eats at me.” She bangs at her chest. “And then he set this all up for me, and I’m failing him again.”
“Stop,” I say, covering her shoulders and swiping my hand down her arms. I take a deep breath, then exhale before I speak next. “Britton, let me share the weight on your shoulders.”
“I don’t want to feel like a burden to you, too. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. To Gee.” Her voice cracks.
“I don’t feel obligated. I want Gee in my life. I want to be in his . . ., and I want to be in yours.”
Her head pops up. “Let me in, Candy. Let me take care of you, of both of you.”
“How can you do that from twelve states away?” Her eyes fill with liquid.
“I’ll move.”
“What?” Her voice cracks.
“I’ll move here.” I sigh with relief as I say the words. “I don’t want to lose you or Gee, and I can’t be so far away. I can’t
be an every-other-weekend dad or a once a month lover. I want to be in your lives all the time, every day.”
“That’s . . . crazy,” she says, still staring at me.
“I want to do this. I want us to be together. All of us.” Her eyes show her hesitation. She doesn’t believe me.
“What about your company?”
“I’ll talk to Joe. We need to talk anyway. Bigflixs is interested in Brant’s story, and we’re getting close to finalizing Under the Same Sky.” I grow more excited with each thing I say. I can do this. I can make this work.
“Britton, don’t give up on me yet. Let me do this.” She’s still staring at me, blinking in shock as I squeeze her hands.
“I heard what you said in your kitchen. You told your family there wasn’t anything here for you.” She stands taller, trying to tug her hands from mine, but I step up to her, closing the distance between us.
“That was a gut reaction. Karyn just pushes my buttons. I didn’t mean it. Not like you think. You’re everything to me.”
Her wide blue eyes glance up at me, so uncertain at the rush of my words. I don’t blame her. Like everything else, things are happening so quickly, but I want this. I want to be here for her.
When she doesn’t respond, I lean down and kiss her, keeping it soft and tender. I’d love nothing more than to lay her back on this desk and have my way with her, but we need to slow down. We need to take our time from this point forward, and we need to do it together.
A throat clears behind us, and I pull back, holding Britton’s gaze for a second before glancing over my shoulder.
“Did you tell her she completes you like in Jerry McGuire?” Jenna asks, and Henry snorts beside her.
“You actually know the title of that one?”
“I pay attention,” Jenna snaps before turning away from the door, and Henry meets my eyes. He shakes his head.
“Don’t ask,” he mutters, turning back for the storefront, and I return to looking at Britton.
“I’ll see you tonight?”