“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “There is no relationship. Bryn and I are not together. We are not dating. We are not even talking to each other about potentially dating. There’s nothing but business between us.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Don’t you think that’s something I would know about? I’m fairly certain if I was in a relationship with somebody, I would be fully informed about it,” I said.
“Then you aren’t the person Bryn slept with about a month ago? A little bit more?” she asked.
I sagged into the refrigerator where I had been filling the vegetable drawer. “Oh, please tell me Vince didn’t hear that from Mom, too.”
“No. Vince heard that from me. And I heard that from a woman named Trish who was at my bar with Bryn. See how quickly things turn into one big-ass game of telephone when you don’t tell your best friend things?” she asked.
I closed the refrigerator and went back to the table for another round of groceries. The chances of me being able to relax and enjoy my plan to throw together a quick pasta primavera and eat in front of the TV while I didn’t think about anything were rapidly dwindling.
“I didn’t tell you, because there was nothing to tell. Yes, Bryn and I slept together. It was a one-night thing. Her ex-boyfriend showed up at her house and acted like a complete ass. It upset her, I went over to make sure she was okay, and it just happened. That’s it. We never talked about it. We never made a big deal out of it. It was a fluke, and now we’re back to just being business,” I said.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“I just want to make sure you’re actually being honest with yourself. And that you really know how she’s feeling, too,” she said.
“Did she say something to you?” I asked.
“No,” Lindsey said. “And according to Vince, she didn’t really say anything to your mother, either. But that hasn’t slowed down Minnie’s dedication to getting the two of you together.”
“Fantastic,” I said. “Maybe I need to have a talk with her. I really thought she had given up on Bryn and me as a match. On the other hand, she means well.”
“Of course she does,” Lindsey said. “She’s your mother. She loves you, and she wants you to be happy.”
Lindsey was right. It wasn’t like Mom did this to be annoying, or to interfere with my life. She really was trying to find a way to make me happy. Which meant that despite how much it didn’t sit well with me to have to just let it go and not confront her about yet again interjecting herself into my business, that’s exactly what I had to do. I needed to just let it go. Not think about it. Not let it affect me.
Which was what I did. Right up until I was leaving work the next day and found Bryn leaned up against my car. Her ankles were crossed in front of her while she flipped through the glossy pages of a thick magazine.
“Bryn?” I said as I approached her.
She looked up at me and let the magazine flip closed. That’s when I saw it was a bridal magazine. The expression on her face was several shades less than glowing bliss.
Oh, damn.
She took a few steps toward me and held the magazine out to me with an annoyed look in her eyes. “Can you please tell your mother that even though the sex was good, she doesn’t need to send any more bridal magazines to my house. You don’t need to be saddled with me.”
I was taken aback by how candid she was but didn’t move. She shoved the magazine toward me a bit harder, and I took it from her. “I can definitely tell her that the sex was great, but I’ll modify the rest to say you didn’t want more than one night.”
It was the best I could do, and I figured it was an honest shot. But if I was hoping for any kind of revelation for Bryn, I was immediately disappointed. Rather than explaining why there was never any more between us, or why she completely withdrew from me, or even responding at all, Bryn shook her head. She walked away from me without saying any other word, and all I could do was watch after her.
What she said stuck with me. It wasn’t just that Bryn wanted me to tell my mother not to send her any more bridal magazines, or even that we weren’t a couple.
Unfortunately, my mind didn’t agree with me. As much as I tried to convince myself to just push the whole situation away, I couldn’t get the thoughts and questions to quiet down. On the off chance she wouldn’t be at the bar that night, I sent Lindsey a text.
It used to be that she was at the bar basically every moment of her life. She inherited it from her father, who got it from his. That bar was always going to be her life. It was her family’s legacy, and she always knew that no matter where she went in life, she would end up back here in Charlotte running the favorite neighborhood spot.
That was one of the reasons she took some time away a few years back. She always said there wasn’t even a part of her that didn’t think she would come back. It wasn’t like she was trying to run away and find a new life. She just wanted to see what else there was out there for her to experience before it was time to take up her birthright.
Spending every bit of time she could at the bar meant making as much money as possible and trying to prove herself. But now that she was with Vince, she was taking more time off and entrusting the bar to her staff more. Luckily, that was one of the nights she decided to stay at home.
And I was going to be a terrible best friend by asking her to come to my house instead.
Half an hour later, she and Remy were sitting in my living room. He was happily playing with the sensory toys I’d laid out for him, and she was sitting on the couch with her legs stretched out, her arm propped on the back and her head rested in it. The other hand held a cup of hot tea.
“Go through that all again,” she said.
I let out a breath and went through the entire story again. “But what could she possibly mean that I didn’t want to be saddled with her? Are you sure she didn’t say anything to you? Or to Mom?”
“She didn’t say anything. I don’t know what she could have meant. But here’s what you need to ask yourself. Why does it bother you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have been saying all along you don’t even want to consider a relationship. You’re not ready. You don’t want to settle down. Blah blah. Every other nice way guys say they don’t want to be tied down. If that was really the case, why would it matter to you if she thought she was a burden to you? If you were never considering being with her, it’s a moot point, right?” she asked.
I leaned back against the chair cushion behind me and thought about that for a few seconds. I had no idea how to answer it.
25
Bryn
I woke up Thursday morning to a knock on my front door. One eye popped open, and I looked around. It definitely didn’t seem late enough in the day for anybody to be showing up at my house. Come to think of it, no matter what time of day it was, I couldn’t really imagine anybody who would just show up at my house.
I let out a sigh and shoved the blankets off with me. Anybody but Nick. After our awkward encounter outside his office building, I had been waiting for some sort of reaction from him. Going over there with the bridal magazine wasn’t the most thought-out plan I’d ever had in my life. When it showed up at my front door, I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
The cute little note attached to the front of the magazine made it very clear his mother was behind the delivery. There was no explanation. No reasoning behind her sending the massive tome of frothy wedding dresses and impossible-to-construct cakes to my house. Also, no explanation behind how she got my home address. But, honestly, that was the least of my concerns.
Within seconds of getting the magazine, I was in my car and headed to Nick. This was something I needed to end. I needed to nip it in the bud before Minnie got any more of the wrong idea than she already did. I had no idea what I was going to say to Nick when he came out. And when the snarky
comment about him not wanting to burden himself with me came tumbling out of my mouth, I wished I had paid better attention to my high school English teacher. He always said preparation was key.
The thing was, as soon as I said it, I was almost glad I did. It was petty and childish, but I wanted to make a point. And I wanted him to hear it. I also wanted to know his reaction. When I heard it, I was shocked. And confused. What did he mean I didn’t want anything more than one night? How was that even a logical response?
The knock on my door told me he had finally figured out what he wanted to say and had come to my house to let it all out. Maybe I should have put some clothes on or run a brush through my hair, but frankly, I wasn’t feeling like it. He was going to be seeing a whole lot of the very real, all-natural me in the next eighteen years or so, and I figured it might as well start now. It wasn’t like seducing him again was an option.
To prevent my mother from completely somersaulting herself out of her grave because I showed off my clingy cotton pajamas to the whole neighborhood, I threw on a thin bathrobe before heading to the door. I tried to prepare myself for anything Nick was going to say. And right after that, for telling him about the baby.
Now was as good a time as any. Emotions were already going to be high. Things were already going to be uncomfortable. There was no point in letting all that priming work go to waste when we could just get everything out in the open and over with in one fell swoop. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it would be so much better once it was over. All I had to do was open the door and face… a box of cake samples.
Sigh.
I leaned down and picked up the box from the local bakery. This wasn’t the cute little corner place where I ate cookies with Minnie. It wasn’t where people would go for a quick croissant or a muffin when they were craving something sweet but wanted to sound like they were being healthy. This was the exorbitantly expensive, painfully trendy bakery that specialized in wedding desserts.
Setting the box down on my coffee table, I opened it up and looked inside. A dozen little squares of cake were arranged perfectly inside. The gold envelope tied to the top with a satin ribbon contained a handwritten description of each of the samples. It looked like the baker had included several different combinations of cake, fillings, and icings. I could only imagine they were specifically chosen by Minnie.
It was one of those great days when I woke up without feeling sick, and I did have a growing baby to support, so I popped one of the tiny cakes into my mouth. I had every intention of enjoying each and every one of them. But I wasn’t going to be paying attention to what they were, and I most certainly wouldn’t be making any selections.
The next morning, another knock woke me up. Just like the day before, by the time I got to the front door, whoever delivered the package was nowhere to be seen. And sitting in the middle of my porch was a box of wedding invitation samples. The next day changed things up. Nothing woke me up, but I was on a call with a new client when a thick book of fabric swatches and hors d’oeuvres samples from four different caterers appeared.
I would have been amused by Minnie’s kamikaze campaign if it wasn’t so incredibly inconvenient. I didn’t even know how she was pulling it off, but I was officially at my wit's end. My conversation with Nick evidently didn’t have any effect. Either that, or he had relayed my message and she’d just decided to ignore it.
That meant I needed to take matters into my own hands. I really liked Minnie, but this couldn’t keep going on. She needed to understand the situation. I could appreciate that she had three sons happy and settled that she just wanted to see the fourth follow suit. But she needed to realize I wasn’t going to be the solution. She couldn’t just keep planning until she convinced us we were engaged.
I waited until I figured there wouldn’t be a huge number of people at the compound. The crowd during the employee picnic was fairly large, but I assumed many of them were family members of the people who actually worked there. That cut it down, but I wanted as few people as possible. My goal was to confront Minnie, not make an absolute spectacle out of myself.
When I got to the Freeman Racing compounds, I told the guard at the gate I was there to see Minnie. He didn’t seem completely convinced until I mentioned my name. Then he smiled and let me on through. That shouldn’t have really surprised me. Of course she would have added me to the list. It was probably only a matter of time before she went ahead and changed my last name to Freeman.
With that thought in my head, I had the compulsion to reach into my purse and take a quick glimpse at my driver’s license. I might have been gradually tipping over the edge into conspiracy theory territory now, but after everything I’d witnessed, I wasn’t going to put anything past this woman. She seemed like the kind of person who got what she wanted, when she wanted it.
The receptionist directed me to the kitchen at the back of the main building. When I got there, I found Minnie in there alone, pulling a sheet tray of caramelized onion tarts out of the oven. They smelled heavenly, and I wanted to just tip the entire tray right into my mouth. This was the dichotomy of my life now. Either I was sick and woozy, or famished beyond reason. Very little middle ground happening.
She was sliding the tray onto a trivet on the island when she glanced up and noticed me. Her eyes lit up, and she gave a wide smile. Partially to stop her from saying anything, and partially to control myself around the onion tarts, I held up a hand and shook my head.
“Listen, I applaud your stubbornness and perseverance. But I don’t imagine your son wants to date me, never mind marry me. There’s a lot going on here. He’s a really amazing person, and he’s doing something incredible for me to help me drag myself out of an awful situation. There’s just too much going on and too much that has already happened and it’s just… too much. I haven’t even told him I’m pregnant yet.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth, but the damage was already done. I couldn’t gather up the words and shove them back into my mouth no matter how much I wished I could. They were out there in the world now.
“Bryn?”
Oh, no. My head dropped and hung down, shaking slowly back and forth at the sound of the voice. Of course. Of course Minnie wasn’t the only one to hear that. It couldn’t be that easy.
I turned around and there was Nick. And all three of his brothers. Sinking down into the nearest chair, I dropped my head in my hands and let out a breath.
26
Nick
“Could everybody give Bryn and me a minute of privacy, please?” I asked.
My brothers hesitated, lingering as they shifted slowly toward the door like I wouldn’t notice they were still there. Their eyes were locked on Bryn. I turned sharply to look at them.
“Get out,” I snapped.
“Alright, boys,” Mom said. “Why don’t you go ahead and get back to work? Let these two have a talk. I’ll get some of these tarts to you in just a bit.”
She gestured at them, trying to brush them out of the room from a distance. I glared at her, and she dropped the spatula she was holding, putting her hands up in the air in surrender. Moving quickly, she tugged a platter closer to her on the counter and piled several of the onion tarts she had just baked from the pan onto it. They had to still be hot as fire, but after years of self-therapy through baking, she had fingertips of steel.
Grabbing the platter of tarts and a handful of napkins, she scurried toward the door that led out into the hallway. She paused in front of Bryn and held the platter out to her. “Onion tart?”
“Mom,” I said.
She jumped. “Sorry. I’ll just—” She draped a napkin on the chair beside Bryn and set three of the little tarts onto it. “There you go.” She looked at the napkin in contemplation, then added one more tart.
“Mom.”
“I’m going.”
She rushed out of the kitchen and eased the door closed behind her. When I was sure none of them were going to wander back in, I let out a long breath and walked over
to Bryn. She was still sitting with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth slowly. I sat down in the chair in front of her and reached out to touch her but pulled my hand back before I did.
I didn’t know how to even start, so I just asked outright. “You’re pregnant?”
That was enough to make Bryn lift her head. She nodded, looking slightly off to the side rather than directly at me.
“Yep,” she said. “I am.”
“When did you find out?” I asked.
“Just a few days ago,” she said.
She sounded so defeated, like everything had been drained out of her. I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. Or even if there was something that could make her feel better.
“I’ll talk to my mom,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to her before. About the whole bridal magazine thing. I figured that was just a one-time saying that she did, that she would get the message when you didn’t respond. I had no idea she was being so pushy and insensitive.”
Bryn nodded, her head dropping again. I reached over and tucked my finger under her chin, gently lifting her face.
“We need to talk about all this,” she said softly.
“Yeah, we do,” I said. “But not here.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really didn’t mean to come here and just blurt it out to your mother. I just came to ask her to stop sending wedding stuff to my house. That’s all. But it just kind of fell out when I was talking to her.”
I shook my head. “You don’t need to apologize. I just think we would both be more comfortable if we weren’t talking about this here. If we knew we could really be alone.”
“That sounds good,” she said.
“Okay, good. Let me take you to my house. We can sit down, get something to eat, and just talk,” I said. “You should be relaxing.”
She let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “I’m pregnant, not dying.”
Millionaire Hero (Freeman Brothers Book 4) Page 13