Brynne had gone inward, deep in thought, often her favorite place to hang out. It was also a place Paul had to coax her out of from time to time. Like the day he’d asked her to set the date all over again. As in ASAP. The day she’d stumbled through excuses for putting it off. Again. For the first time, she’d been honest enough with herself, and now her sisters, to admit why. The big family was the deal breaker.
“And you’ve got the bookstore now,” Eva added. “That’s completely different.”
Brynne nodded, knowing her heart wasn’t in the bookstore. Not like her mother’s was. “I call what I’m doing honoring my mother, but most of the time it feels more like an obligation.” She’d inherited the store. She wanted to be noble, she did, but... “My heart is in nursing.”
“So why not go back to it?” Lacy asked.
“Nothing seems that easy.”
“Understood,” Eva said empathetically.
They chose silence for the next few seconds, since it was obvious they couldn’t solve Brynne’s issue over coffee. And truth was, they barely knew each other. After everyone was just about finished, Lacy popped up with a new topic.
“Had you gotten as far as choosing a dress before your mother fell ill?”
At least this one had potential for fun. Brynne glanced at her palm and the credit card number. “It feels so strange calling her your mother when she’s our birth mother, too,” Eva added.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, and everything is a little confusing with us,” Brynne agreed, trying her best to stay out of her head and pull herself back into the conversation. “But to your question, I had picked out a dress for the wedding.”
“Do you have a picture?” Lacy pushed her plate away, making a hopeful expression.
“Probably.” Brynne dutifully brought out her cell phone, scrolled through some websites, then entered a line name and specific style. “Here.”
She showed them the wedding dress. A simple white, off-the-shoulder portrait-style neckline and a mermaid fitted bodice, which hugged to the hips then flared from the knees down. A beautiful dress meant for a better time in her life. One when she’d thought she also wanted Paul’s dreams.
“Oh my God, that’s gorgeous,” Eva said as she looked at Brynne approvingly.
“But you didn’t buy it?”
She shook her head. “It was on order, but we cancelled. It’s for a spring wedding anyway.”
“True, but you’ve got great taste.” Coming from Eva, who appeared to be a fashion plate, the compliment felt great.
“And like I said, we’re not getting married anymore.”
“But what if you were still getting married?” Lacy went for the cockeyed-optimist award. “What kind of dress would you buy for that?”
Only because they were who they were, and Brynne needed to try to be hospitable, she decided to go along with their line of conversation. She could play what-if, as long as it stayed a game, because there was no what-if about her decision to put their wedding on hold. “He wanted to elope. I wouldn’t have a clue what to wear for that.”
“Elope?” Lacy blurted.
“To Vegas.”
“To Vegas?” Eva repeated, excitement in her tone. “We’re caravanning down that way next week. Why not go with us and we can all be there for you?”
Brynne’s chest tightened at the suggestion. “Did you guys not hear me?”
They tossed a guilty look back and forth. “Sorry,” they said in unison, making Brynne feel like a party pooper.
“Totally out of line, expecting you to get married for our convenience. Serious apologies,” Eva continued, reaching for Brynne’s hand and squeezing.
“Well, if we ever reschedule, I’ll expect you two to come.”
“We’d love that!”
“But on your own time.”
“Thank you. The idea of getting married scares me enough, but the thought of rushing into something that’s supposed to last a lifetime freaks me out.” She’d kept those feelings at bay while they’d first made plans after getting engaged eighteen months ago, taking one step at a time. Hoping she’d change and see how wonderful the idea was as they went along. They’d even worked out the main issue about having one kid versus a batch of kids. She’d try motherhood out one baby at a time, no guarantees for more, and with her mother’s help, it seemed doable. “But this elope or else approach Paul threw at me yesterday put everything on a hyperspeed,” making her want to slam on the brakes even harder.
“He’s got this—” Brynne started with her “Paul’s big family” description.
“Big family, yeah, you’ve mentioned it a time or three,” Eva cut in.
“And they’d kill me if we eloped.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” Lacy said, looking appalled. “They’d understand.”
“But you don’t know them,” Brynne sounded like she felt. Defensive.
“I suspect they’ve raised a decent son, or why would you get engaged to him in the first place,” Eva continued. “And under the circumstances of Jessica dying and having to cancel the original wedding, how could his parents not understand?”
Brynne’s hands flew to her cheeks, her fingers sliding over her lips until they met in a prayer pose, thumbs latched under her chin as she thought.
A stupid little voice from way, way back made a suggestion. It ticked her off as much as Paul suggesting they elope ASAP. Wasn’t it time to have a long talk with Paul again about all of her concerns, and especially about motherhood and reinforcing the baby option now that Mom, her backup, was gone? Meanwhile, her new sisters sat staring at her, so she felt compelled to say something. Anything! “But I don’t have a dress?”
Eva and Lacy looked at each other and blurted laughter. Brynne had to join in, knowing how lame she sounded.
“First off, you can wear anything for a courthouse wedding, if that’s how you want to go in Las Vegas,” Eva said, and trusting her knowledge of style completely, Brynne believed her.
“He did happen to give me his credit card number tonight. Said I could buy myself anything I wanted.”
“This guy sounds like a dream!” Lacy said, grinning. She grabbed her phone and started punching and poking it until a backyard-bride website popped up featuring simple dresses for simple weddings. There were dozens and dozens to choose from, and the sisters spent the next hour narrowing down the choices until they all agreed on one. A short, white, V-neck sheath with overlying blouson bodice covered in swirling beads and sequins for a wholesale song. If she’d plotted revenge with this dress, it would hardly make her point. No budget breaker, yet classy and cute. Best of all, it came in an off-the-rack size that Brynne knew would fit.
“You can show off your legs with this one,” Eva said. “Did your mom have good legs?”
“Or did we get them from Dad?” Lacy chimed in, acknowledging what Brynne had kind of thought about herself but never dared verbalize, until Paul had informed her early on in their dating that without a doubt, she had a great pair of legs.
Wouldn’t buying a wedding type dress and not just any old expensive-as-hell dress to get even send the wrong message? “This doesn’t have to be a wedding dress, right? I can wear it for other occasions.”
“Absolutely,” Eva assured.
“As if I ever go to parties.”
“Hey you never know. Plus the holidays are right around the corner,” Lacy said.
“Should I?”
“Wait,” Eva said. “Can they deliver in two, three days tops? Since we helped pick it out, we’d love to see it on you while we’re here.”
Lacy moved the website information around on her phone screen until she’d located the shipping information. “Yes!”
Brynne glanced at her sisters, who’d somehow hijacked her revenge shopping, increasing her anxiety, but in an odd way, also giving her courage. She gave
a crazy mixed-up nod. “Let’s do it.” More in the vein of “whatever” than “I’m going to make this great payback decision hurt.”
With that Lacy ordered the dress, and when the time came, Brynne read Paul’s credit card numbers, which had started to blur thanks to her hands going clammy.
“There’s all the proof I need to know that Paul is perfect husband material,” Eva teased, noticeably impressed with his trust and generosity.
Despite the hesitation, Brynne admitted to being excited about the purchase; she couldn’t wait to try it on. Lacy started it, once she’d pushed “Submit,” then they all joined in and squealed together. Completely out of character for Brynne, who’d never been a squealer. But it felt kind of good.
“What’d we just do?” Brynne blurted.
“I don’t know, but it sure was fun,” Lacy said.
“We bought you a chic dress paid for by a good guy named Paul, who, in case you’ve forgotten, wants to marry you,” Eva said.
Whose team was she on?
“Will Lacy Gardner please return to her room?” came over the hospital paging system the moment they’d completed the transaction.
“Oops,” Brynne, said, knowing well there was a 9:00 p.m. curfew on the ward—she’d completely lost track of time.
“Also time to nurse John again,” Lacy said, adjusting her bra, which she bulged out of since her milk had come in.
The sisters stood up and shared a group hug.
“This was really fun,” Eva said.
Brynne nodded, having to admit Eva was right, letting contentment fill her, having shared her first special moment with her sisters. Well, a more normal special moment, compared with yesterday’s delivery of Lacy’s baby in the bookstore.
After they escorted Lacy to her room, where a wailing baby waited for her, they said quick goodbyes, including kisses on the cheek, which, also surprisingly, seemed completely normal. Wow, think of all the years she’d missed out on. An ache started in her chest. This was so confusing.
“See you and Paul tomorrow for dinner,” Lacy said, no question in the statement. Brynne and Paul, whether engaged or not, were expected, and that was that. No point in protesting. These women were her family. The thought made her smile even as her eyes acted up again, going all misty.
After, Eva and Brynne walked together to their cars.
“Joe’s probably wondering where I’ve been, too,” she said before stopping by her flashy rental sedan. “But he’ll understand. It’s not every day a girl meets her triplet.” They hugged again.”
Buying a dress may have been a failed revenge experiment and nothing more than a fun exercise in shopping online with her sisters, but telling Paul she really did want to marry him was a huge step she still wasn’t ready to take. Not without a long, no holds barred talk, where each knew exactly where the other stood. And she definitely wasn’t eloping in Vegas just because her newfound sisters were heading that way. Still... “It was fun shopping with you two.”
“I know. Plus you got a gorgeous dress.”
“For any occasion, right?”
“Right. Now go tell him.”
* * *
Paul swung open the door to his comfy condo, having let Brynne in through the locked building entrance only seconds before. Looking more relaxed than he’d seen her lately, except for after he’d ravished her at her command last night, she kind of smiled.
“Did you do it?”
“What?” She refused to make it easy for him.
He gave a “you know exactly” stare.
“Buy yourself something?”
“Yes, we did.”
“We?”
“Eva and Lacy helped me shop.”
“That was probably fun.”
“Surprisingly, the whole hanging out with unknown sisters thing was fun.”
“Cool.”
“There really is some weird connection there.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it. But hey, did the therapy shopping work?”
“As in, do I feel better now?”
He made an exaggerated nod.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Cool.”
Only then did he kiss her hello, long and slow, as his hands wandered over her neck and back. She felt great and was all present and accounted for, just the way he loved her.
“So we’re on for tomorrow night, right? Their house for dinner?”
“I can’t not go.”
“Great.” Paul held Brynne at arm’s length, studying her, uneasy over how uptight she’d just turned. He’d given her six months of breathing room, and all it did was make her more undecided. His now or never approach had backfired. He wasn’t sure what else to do. His stomach felt a little sick over the possibility of losing her.
“Come in. Make yourself comfortable.” He’d play the perfect host.
“Did you have a chance to get those boxes for me?” She got right down to this business visit. That was okay, because it still gave him a chance to be with her.
“Absolutely.” He took her hand and guided her into the main room of his condo. “Would you like a glass of wine?” Thanks to the open-concept design of the condo, the kitchen was a stone’s throw from the couch.
“To help sweeten the task? Yes, please!” It was the first sign of enthusiasm he’d seen today.
“Be right back. I’ll help, too, once you tell me what we’re looking for.”
She sat on the edge of the sofa and removed the lid from one of the three cardboard boxes. “Anything like a letter or holiday card saved by Mom from an Allison Roberts.”
“Sounds easy enough,” he said, removing the cork from a previously opened cabernet sauvignon, sniffing the smooth scent, then pouring two glasses of deep red liquid. “What do we do if we find one?” He carried the wine to Brynne, handed hers off, then taking a sip of his before putting it on a coaster.
“I’m hoping there’ll be an address or phone number we can contact her by. The only thing Rory told us was Mom moved here from some place in Santa Barbara.”
“That’s a fairly big city, and Allison Roberts is a common name. If we don’t get a link here, we could still try looking her up in the yellow pages.”
“Do they still exist?”
“Online they do. Want me to give it a try now?”
She shrugged as she dug through the first box for anything looking like a stack of letters or holiday cards. Even though he always wondered why people kept such things, he hoped she’d find something to help answer her questions about her birth. Especially since discovering she was a triplet.
“Let’s start here, see what we get,” she said.
For fun, he checked Santa Barbara yellow pages and found at least fifty Allison Robertses there. After satisfying his curiosity, he happily dug through the second box, fingers crossed they’d come up with something, anything to solve the riddle.
By the end of the first glass of wine, they’d gone through two of the boxes.
“Can I get a refill?” Brynne held up her glass.
“Who am I to argue,” he said, heading for the kitchen mumbling the second part. “since I always lose.”
“It’s been a long night,” she said. “Can you just give me a refill without the grief, please.”
So he did what he was told.
The third box produced nothing of interest, and Brynne downed the last sips of wine in an irritated way.
It probably wasn’t a good time to bring it up, but Paul felt responsible. “You know I can’t let you drive home after two glasses of wine.”
“Oh, really.”
He was a grown man. He could take her snotty attitude. “Think what you like, but I’m just looking out for you.” Yeah, from that skeptical look, she wasn’t buying it.
A second later a bolt of lightning li
t up the window, drawing their full attention. And a few seconds after that, a loud clap of thunder off in the distance managed to rattle the same window. Soon, loud plops of rain tapped on the roof.
Brynne looked at him incredulously. “Did you text Mother Nature, to keep me here for the night?” By the tipsy absurdity of her comment, she indeed had no business driving home.
“Is that how you feel? That I’m manipulative and I’m making you marry me?”
“I broke off the engagement, and somehow, I still bought a wedding dress tonight.”
“Hold on. I didn’t tell you to buy a wedding dress, I just suggested you buy yourself something to cheer you up.”
“As if that’s all I needed.”
“And you’re obviously mad at me.”
“I’m mad at you, at Mom. I’m mad at everyone!
“Why did she have to insist on going to the farmers market and set up her traveling bookstore that weekend? She’d just gotten over a nasty intestinal bug, too, but refused to miss the event. She put herself in the thick of things and walked away with that crazy opportunistic virus, because it was only a few days later when she collapsed at the store.
“Why’d you have to do that, Mom!” Brynne looked toward the sky as if seeing her mother’s face there. “You were always so headstrong and frustratingly independent, and you blew it! This time you died because of it.
“You were supposed to give me away at my wedding. You let me down.” She lowered her head and sobbed more. And he held her until she calmed down again.
After what seemed like a very long time, Paul needed to say his thoughts. “Brynne, I swear I’m not trying to fix anything. I’m just going to mention something about life. Is that okay? It’s just a personal observation.” He held his breath and hoped she’d take it the right way.
Without looking at him, she nodded.
“Getting stuck in anger holds us back. It keeps us angry and resentful, and we risk losing sight of what’s important. I’m not telling you to move on or anything, not until you’re ready anyway, I’m just mentioning it.”
“Why do you have to be so damn nice?” Again, the wine talking, because she couldn’t even keep her story straight. Which was it, mad or glad?
The Reluctant Fiancée (The Taylor Triplets Book 3) Page 9