Legally Mine (Spitfire Book 2)

by Nicole French

  Janette leaned in to accept a kiss on the cheek from Brandon, who then reached across the table to shake Maurice's hand before sitting down. I accepted French-style, double-cheek kisses from both Janette and Maurice with some surprise; this was the friendliest Maurice had ever been to me. The two children at the table, a boy and girl who weren't older than ten, watched all of us.

  "So good of you both to join us," Janette said as we all took our seats. "Mes petites puces, ça c'est votre sœur," she introduced me to the children. "Skylar, this is Annabelle and Christoph."

  Despite the endearments their mother used to address them, neither child responded to her, choosing instead to watch me with open curiosity.

  "You may have to brush up on your French a bit, darling," Janette said to me. "They're still learning English."

  "My English is very good, Maman," a small voice with a very thick Parisian accent piped up from across the table. The older child, the girl, looked pointedly at her mother with clear green eyes she'd inherited from Janette, just like me. "And Christoph can understand everything, even if he still cannot say very much."

  Beside her, the little boy, whose fringe of brown hair topped a pair of wide brown eyes, nodded broadly as he sipped from a plastic cup with a straw.

  Janette cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink, which looked like a mimosa. "They go to a very good school."

  A waiter came by to take our orders and deliver drinks. I hoped that another round of mimosas and food would calm everyone's nerves.

  "So, what are you doing in town?" Brandon asked Maurice after the waiter had left. "Boston seems a little outside of your scope at BNP."

  He had taken my hand again under the table and held it securely on his lap.

  "Maurice is here to help the new BNP Boston office negotiate an expansion. They are trying to land Rick Avery's portfolio," Janette said before Maurice could respond. She looked coquettishly at Brandon. "Of course, I'm sure he wouldn't mind a meeting with the CEO of Sterling Ventures as well."

  "Tais-toi, Janette," Maurice cut her off sharply. "Pay no mind to my wife," he said more jocularly to Brandon with an extremely Gallic roll of his eyes. "She often speaks without thinking."

  His French pretensions aside, I was starting to get a good handle on Maurice. Despite his glamor and cool, nonplussed appearance, he was just like so many other chauvinist men I'd encountered in the finance sector who treated women like accessories. He had barely spoken to me, his actual stepdaughter, at all since arriving in Boston, and only then to inquire about Brandon.

  Beside him, Janette just took another long sip from her drink. For the first time in a long time, I felt sorry for her.

  "Are you here long?" I asked Maurice, mostly to deflect the criticism from my mother.

  Maurice looked at me as if he had just noticed I was sitting at the table, and gave another supremely French shrug. "It depends. These things take time, I cannot say for sure." He looked back at Brandon with a smile. "Enough to enjoy everything this wonderful city has to offer."

  "At least a few more weeks," Janette added eagerly. "We will probably go down to New York for a spell so the children can meet my family, of course, but mostly we want to enjoy Boston."

  I ground my teeth. Aside from their obvious pandering to Brandon, this was a sore subject. I was permanently iced out from the Chambers clan; my conception out of wedlock, when Janette and my father were only seventeen, nearly cost her membership in that family to begin with. The only part of that life I had ever seen was the small trust fund that Janette had set up––mostly, I think, to avoid any problems with child support payments and to keep my family quiet about me: the dirty little secret.

  "We were just in New York yesterday," Brandon volunteered with a worried glance my way. My discomfort must have been written all over my face. "Down visiting Skylar's dad. Her grandmother made this amazing dinner for us."

  Janette looked up, her cup poised in midair. "Oh?" she asked with a pretense of casualness that failed miserably. "And how is Danny?"

  I clenched the stem of my champagne glass tighter than necessary. "He's fine."

  Janette blinked, her big green eyes that mirrored mine blank and innocent. "And is Sarah still cooking those enormous meals? She always did make enough to feed an army. I swear, whenever I stayed in that house, I always gained at least ten pounds."

  She chortled at Maurice, who only watched with his typically bored expression. I just sipped my mimosa. I wasn't really interested in hearing her jokes about the family she'd toyed with over and over again. Brandon cleared his throat, pulling the table's attention.

  "Do you have any plans other than staying in the city?" he asked. "Poor Annabelle and Christoph can't find the inside of a hotel room that interesting."

  The kids' faces perked noticeably when he mentioned their names; Annabelle already looked half in love with Brandon, and Christoph was staring at him like he was a superhero.

  Brandon flashed them a toothy grin, and they both collapsed in giggles. Maurice shot a stern look at his children, who immediately straightened up and quieted down. They were clearly well trained; I couldn't help but wonder by what means.

  "The children have a nanny to keep them occupied during the day," Janette clarified with a short smile. "But we were considering taking some excursions up the coast. Maine, perhaps. Kennebunkport––isn't that where the Bushes have a place? Brandon, have you ever been there?"

  Brandon nodded. "I have, although only once or twice. When I go to the coast, I usually spend my time at the Cape. I have a house there, actually."

  Janette's eyes gleamed. "Oh, Cape Cod! Yes, we were considering that as well. It would also be terrific fun to show the children where their ancestors came from." She winked at me as she continued: "My father's family emigrated on the Mayflower, you see. My mother's were mostly Dutch, of course––cousins of the Stuyvesants, actually, but my father's people actually came originally from Massachusetts."

  She spread her slender hands over the table and peered around the room proudly, as if the crowded space of the hotel represented the cold rock where the pilgrims originally landed. Beside her, Maurice continued to looked bored, and both Annabelle and Christoph were frowning in confusion.

  "Well, you're welcome to come for a visit," Brandon offered cordially as he leaned back to make room for the server, who had just arrived with another round of drinks.

  I jerked my head at him. What? He caught my look and winked.

  "I may not have it much longer, so we might as well put it to good use," he continued before taking a sip of his coffee. "It would be a good time for Skylar and the kids to get to know each other."

  "Oh, that would be wonderful!" Janette exclaimed. "Children, wouldn't that just be wonderful!"

  She leaned over to touch Annabelle's shoulder; the girl just looked at the hand, but then looked back at Brandon, eyes shining.

  "Oh please, Papa," she addressed Maurice almost formally. "May we go?"

  Christoph, who had yet to say anything, also turned to his father with pleading eyes.

  Maurice, for his part, no longer looked bored, but extremely interested as he surveyed Brandon. His sharp eyes flickered back and forth between us, as if gauging our connection. Then he gave another Gallic shrug, and sat back in his chair.

  "If it is not too much of an imposition," he said as he picked up his espresso cup.

  The kids practically jumped out of their seats in excitement. Janette continued to jabber about the possibilities for the trip, while Maurice and I stared at each other with mirrored looks of shock. Somehow, before our eggs had even arrived, my estranged mother, her family, my married boyfriend and I were all scheduled to go to Cape Cod for the upcoming Fourth-of-July weekend.

  ~

  "Are you okay?" Brandon asked later when we were on our way back to the North End.

  I had insisted on going back to my apartment. I had too much to do, and I wasn't interested in spending the day in the icy penthouse. Surprising
ly, Brandon didn't fight me on it, and actually asked if he could come with me. It seemed he really did hate that apartment as much as he said. Or, I also suspected, he could feel the fissures the last few days had caused and was trying to compensate.

  Beside him, I shrugged while I watched Boston passing through the tinted window. "Does it matter now?"

  Brandon reached for my hand. "I should have asked first. I'm sorry."

  I sighed, but let him toy with my fingers. "It's fine, I guess. It will be nice to get to know Annabelle and Christoph. Maybe I can convince Janette and Maurice to let me take them somewhere, just them and me. They seem to be on a pretty tight leash."

  Brandon nodded. "I bet they'd like that."

  "I still can't believe you invited them over to your house," I teased. "My weirdo mother and her robot husband."

  "I just want to help," Brandon said. He still held my hand as he massaged his thumbs around the bones. "They're your family, and they want to know you." His blue eyes were wide. "Not everyone is as lucky as you, Red."

  I watched him for a moment, letting his words sink in. Brandon gleamed so brightly among most people, it was easy to forget the dark circumstances he came from. His mother, who had died of a drug overdose when he was just a teenager, had neglected him so much that he had been in and out of group homes for most of his childhood. His father, an abusive man, had been in jail multiple times and was currently serving a twenty-year sentence. The only real family that Brandon had were the Petersens, and despite Susan's attempts to be close, Ray wasn't exactly a big ball of warmth.

  "You're right," I said. "It's a nice idea. It will be fun."

  "We'll make a long weekend of it," Brandon said. "You can bring your stuff and study, and I wouldn't mind you seeing the place again before I have to sell it."

  The reminder of the divorce proceedings settled a pit again in my stomach.

  "So Miranda...she's still going ahead with everything as planned?" I asked.

  A part of me hoped that maybe this sudden invitation, and Brandon's recent willingness to accompany me openly everywhere, was a sign that things had improved. Maybe Miranda had simply accepted that he was moving on. Maybe she was ready to move on too.

  But Brandon heaved a big sigh and pulled me into his side. "I don't really want to talk about it right now," he admitted before pressing a kiss into the top of my head. "She's...making things difficult again. I'm not sure exactly to what extent."

  My heart sank. I knew it was too good to be true. I curled my fingers around the crisp cotton of his shirt and inhaled his fresh, warm scent.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm making things more difficult for you."

  He pulled back so he could look directly at me. His blue eyes were fathomless, even in the dimmed lighting in the car. My clenched stomach eased a little.

  "Don't be," he said. "I'm not."

  As he pressed a soft kiss to my lips, I conceded. I could be stressed. I could be fearful. But I couldn't be sorry now. Not for us. Not ever.

  ~

  Chapter 26

  Despite my best plans to convince Eric to join me on my impromptu family vacation, he pled the need to study through the long weekend, and I couldn't argue with that. I'd have to compartmentalize my time carefully through the weekend just to make sure I didn't fall behind. With the bar exam only three weeks away, I couldn't afford to waste time, and I was pushing it with this weekend in the first place.

  But although I could have canceled, I found I didn't want to. Despite all of the complications in our lives, Brandon and I were learning to deal with them together, and I didn't want to dismiss that progress.

  In the interest of my time constraints, Brandon insisted on flying me out to Cape Cod via helicopter on Friday. I'd initially fought it, but it wasn't hard that for him to convince me to take advantage of his generosity for once. I couldn't study on the bus, and I needed all the time I could get.

  I landed on a massive grass compound just after three in the afternoon on Friday. I had spent most of the short trip in awe, with headphones protecting my ears from the roar of the rotors while I watched the coastline through the glass windows.

  When I stepped out of the helicopter, the combination of the wind coming off the waterfront and the whir of the rotor blades plastered my hair against my face. When I finally managed to tame it into a ponytail, I found Brandon jogging across the lawn. The wind pressed the fabric of his T-shirt and jeans against his torso in a way that left little to the imagination, his tanned skin healthy against the white of his shirt. Even with the vivid green of the grass, the bright blue of the sky, and the glow of the sunlight, his smile still outshone everything.

  "Hey!"

  I was picked up off the ground and swung around several times. I wrapped my arms around Brandon's neck and laughed.

  "Welcome to the Cape!" he yelled over the rotors with another grin and a hearty kiss. He set me down and accepted the bags from the pilot in exchange for what was likely a sizable tip. "Thanks, Tony!"

  The pilot nodded. "Anytime, Mr. Sterling! You enjoy your vacation, Miss Crosby!"

  I followed Brandon across the lawn, forced to hold the edges of my skirt as the helicopter started taking off. It wasn't until it was well on its way that I was able to let go of the fabric and look around the property as we walked.

  Brandon's house stood on several acres of land that created a luxurious solitude in the crowded Northeast. The property included a bluff overlooking a small bay, and was mostly scattered with trees around the big green lawn. It eventually dipped down to a beach of white sand and a rocky edge, Brandon informed me, though I couldn't see it from where we walked.

  The house itself was large but not enormous, and of typical Cape Cod style: a simple, square shape covered with weathered gray shingles and white shutters and trim. It boasted a wrap-around porch and a deck that extended a good thirty feet onto the lawn. There was a kidney-shaped pool behind the deck, along with basketball and tennis courts beyond that.

  Brandon led me up the deck stairs and through French doors that opened into a spacious living room. Everything was bright and airy, with high, white-beamed ceilings and a rustic, open floor plan. A living room situated around a large stone fireplace opened directly into a chef's kitchen, next to which was a farmhouse table that could seat at least twelve.

  Like all of the spaces Brandon inhabited, it was big, but unlike his penthouse rental and the opulent mansion on the Commons, this house actually felt lived in. Although the kitchen was luxurious, the appliances were likely fifteen or twenty years old. The furniture, mostly leather sofas and weathered wood pieces, looked well used.

  Brandon dropped my bags inside the French doors and pulled me to his body. He had been in Washington D.C. all week on business and had flown directly here. We hadn't been able to see each other since Sunday. There had been chats and texts, of course, but things felt...tenuous again. I wondered if we would ever get rid of that feeling completely.

  Blue eyes or green? I wondered. Shut up, I thought right back.

  "I missed you this week," Brandon murmured as he wrapped me up in his kiss.

  I smiled against his lips and bit down on the bottom one lightly.

  "Me too," I said. "Thanks for the helicopter ride, by the way. That was ridiculously fun."

  Brandon winked. "Anytime. I don't want to wait for you any longer than I have to."

  I closed my eyes, luxuriating in his familiar, almond-laced scent. Maybe I'd regret not spending the holiday weekend holed up with my study guide, but I was thrilled to be here right now.

  "Come on, Red," Brandon said. "Let me give you a tour."

  My hand clasped firmly in his, Brandon took me around the rest of house. Aside from the great room, the bottom floor also included a TV lounge and an office that was clearly Brandon's domain, plastered with Red Sox paraphernalia and a bunch of Star Wars collectibles. The desk was covered with a mess of papers and two open laptop computers. I glanced around with a smile––this was a side of
Brandon I loved so much: the hometown boy, the Red Sox fan, the closeted dork who couldn't quite manage to pick up his workspace.

  The tour continued upstairs, through a hallway lined with three guest bedrooms, all with en suite bathrooms, and stopped at the master suite at the end. A pair of double-doors opened into a room that included a white king-sized bed against a wall that faced an atrium-style window looking over the bay. A glass door opened to a smaller private deck and a set of sun-bleached Adirondack chairs.

  I turned back to Brandon, who stood in the doorway of the room, watching me as I checked everything out. I grinned.

  "This place is amazing," I said.

  His face exploded with a grin.

  "I'm glad you like it," he admitted. "It's kind of my favorite place on the planet."

  I found myself looking for signs of Miranda; after all, they owned this house together. I walked up to the atrium window and pressed my fingertips against the glass panes while I looked at the water. Had they had good memories here together? They must have. I couldn't imagine being unhappy in a place like this.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Brandon came up behind me and wrapped his long arms around my waist, leaning down to set his jaw on my shoulder.

  "Don't think about her," he said.

  "How do you always know?" I wondered.

  "I can see it all over your face, Red."

  I sighed and tried to turn in his arms, but he held me still, forcing me to continue looking at the view. I sighed.

  "It's her place too, isn't it?"

  Brandon finally loosened his grip so I could turn around, but he kept me pressed against his hard chest.

  "It's mostly mine," he said. "She never liked it here."

  I frowned, remembering some comment she had made so long ago about seeing her family at the Cape. "She didn't?"

  Brandon shook his head. "Her family owns a place near Provincetown. She doesn't like how isolated this place is, so most of the time she wanted to stay over there."

  "So why are you giving it to her in the divorce agreement?" I asked. "You were going to give her all of your property."