Reverb (Songs and Sonatas Book 7)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Dad nods. “I have to say, it all came as a bit of a surprise.”

  I bark out a short laugh. “Yeah. To me, too.” Staring at the doorway again, I shake my head. “Nothing about her was planned.” When I face Dad again, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

  “Those are the best kinds of surprises.” He takes another drink from his juice, still looking me over. “And work? How’s the job?”

  I make a face, staring at my plate. “It’s fine.”

  “Fine, huh?”

  Meeting his eyes again, I wave a hand, not wanting to discuss it in detail right now. “He’s a control freak, and it’s sometimes difficult to deal with.”

  Dad chuckles. “I see. You clash because you’re a control freak too.”

  I open my mouth to object, but he doesn’t let me get a word in, holding up a hand to forestall me. “Don’t try to deny it, Brendan. You’ve always been that way. You and your brothers. Don’t worry, you come by it naturally. Your mother’s the same way, or haven’t you noticed? Sure, you’ve always been the most easygoing of the three of you boys, but it was only to serve your own purposes. You go along with the program, lull everyone into a false sense of security, and then go off and do your own thing.” He gestures at the kitchen. “Case in point.”

  I let out a rueful chuckle of my own. “I guess you’re right.” His gesture makes me glance at the kitchen door again, and I cock my head, listening to the changing tone of conversation.

  “Speaking of Mom …” I say, getting up from my seat. “I think I better check on her and Lauren.”

  Dad gives me an understanding look as I cross the room, stopping in the doorway in time to catch my mother leaning over the breakfast bar accusing Lauren of marrying me for money.

  I step forward. “Enough!” Lauren swivels in her seat, wide eyed. I move behind her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her against my chest, needing to feel her against me to keep me grounded. To make sure she’s okay. Her pulse is pounding in her neck, but her back is straight, and she’s not trembling. That’s my girl.

  I refocus my attention on my mom. “That’s enough, Mother.”

  She recoils, affronted. “Brendan. I was only—”

  “I know what you were doing,” I interrupt, my blood boiling. “You were accusing Lauren of using me. Of being a fame-seeking attention whore who’s only after my money.” I move around next to Lauren and lean on the breakfast bar, placing one arm in front of her to partially block her from view. I want Mom focused on me right now, not Lauren. “Why is it that you seem to believe every woman your sons get serious with is like that? Do you not trust our judgment?”

  Her panicked eyes flick from me to whatever she can see of Lauren behind me. “Brendan, I—I—I—”

  I sigh and shake my head, frustration and disappointment mixing with the simmering rage. But the rage is starting to subside. Mostly I’m just tired. This is ridiculous, and I knew it would happen, even though I’d hoped it wouldn’t. Reaching behind me, I find Lauren’s hand, no longer blocking her from view. “Lauren is nothing like those articles make her out to be. You know how tabloids are. They print anything they think will get clicks or sell papers. They don’t care about the truth. They don’t care whose lives they destroy. Lauren has had her entire world turned upside down, and yes, I paid for her to come here because I love her, I want to spend time with her as much as I can since she’ll be starting school again in a month and won’t have as much free time, and because I want to help her salvage as much as she can. But it was Gabby who put her in contact with someone who can help her. Lauren found the grad school she visited on her own. She’s smart and resourceful and able to survive this without my help. Able to survive, period, without my help.”

  Stepping back from the counter, I take a deep breath, giving a gentle tug on Lauren’s hand to get her to stand from the stool, never taking my eyes off my mom. I shake my head sadly. “You had another chance, Mom.” I’ve lowered my voice, letting the anger go, but unable to rein in the disappointment. “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I would’ve insisted on meeting at a restaurant if I knew you were going to do this.” I considered it, but foolishly thought I could protect Lauren. “I thought you learned your lesson from Jonathan and Gabby. What was next? Were you going to offer her a bunch of money to divorce me? You can’t prevent a wedding that’s already happened, but hey, maybe you can break up our marriage, right?”

  When her eyes dart around, guilt stamped on her face, the rage that I thought was dissipating reaches near boiling again. But Lauren places her free hand on my bicep. “I wouldn’t have taken a dime, you know.” Her voice is quiet, meant only for me, though I’m sure my parents can both hear her since Dad’s standing behind me in the doorway, a silent witness to this blowup. He’ll get to put the pieces back together later, doing his best to repair this relationship. He did it with Jonathan. The big difference is that he won’t be able to enlist the help of my brothers this time. I don’t see them often enough, for one thing. And Jonathan will surely be on my side in this.

  I look into Lauren’s eyes, finding strength and warmth in their depths. “I know,” I whisper back. I love that she could survive this on her own. Not that I’d ever leave her to twist in the wind like that. And with her here, I don’t have to survive this on my own either.

  Sucking in a deep breath and striving for calm, I look my mother in the eyes. “Thanks for inviting us over. Brunch was good. We’re going to leave now.”

  “Brendan.”

  I twist my head in the direction of Dad’s voice. His face is pleading, but I clench my jaw and shake my head once in a quick negative. “No, Dad. I can’t stay here if she’s going to treat Lauren like this. It’s not okay, and you know it.”

  “Will we see you again before she has to go?”

  I give Mom a hard stare, then turn back to him. “I don’t know.” I won’t agree to that without talking to Lauren first. And we’re definitely not having that conversation with both of my parents looking on. I’m tempted to hold out for an apology from my mom before agreeing to see them again. “Maybe if Mom wants to apologize before Lauren has to go back to Spokane, we might be willing to make the effort to see you in person beforehand. But that’s a big if. For now, it’s time for us to go.”

  Dad looks past me. “It was nice to see you again, Lauren.”

  “Thank you,” she murmurs. “You too.”

  Mom says nothing as I lead Lauren back to the living room to grab her purse and then out the door.

  Once we’re back in my car, I let out a huge breath and turn to her. “I’m so sorry. I really thought that she was going to be nice, with how she acted during the meal and then getting us the cake and everything. I expected some digs about getting married without telling them. That’s nothing new. But …” I swallow hard. “I didn’t think she’d corner you and go after you like that.”

  Lauren gives me a sad smile and covers the hand I’ve placed on her knee with her own. “Her behavior isn’t your fault. I knew …” She blinks and looks away. “I knew, after what happened with Gabby, that your mom probably wouldn’t be very nice to me at first.” She raises her eyes to mine, and I hate that there are tears gathering along her lower lids no matter how hard she tries to fight them back. “She’s very protective of the three of you. She doesn’t want you taken advantage of.”

  I sigh, cupping her cheek with my free hand, ready to wipe away the tears should they manage to fall. “You’re far more charitable than I am.”

  She turns her face and kisses my palm. “Probably not. But she’s your mom. I’d like her to eventually decide to like me.”

  Before I can say anything, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it, but it does it again. And again. I give Lauren an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Someone’s trying to get ahold of me. Hang on.”

  I dig out my phone and look at the screen to see multiple texts from The Professor. “Dammit.” After dealing with my mom, the last thing I need is
to deal with his bullshit right now. But if I don’t respond—or actually come into the studio, now that I scan through his texts—it’ll be far worse than just dealing with him now.

  With a sigh, I meet Lauren’s eyes. “The Professor needs me to come to the studio. He has a new project he wants me to start working on.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise, the sheen of tears still there, but less than it was. “Now?”

  I nod. “Yeah. He’s a demanding asshole. I can drop you at home first, but I’m hoping I won’t need to be there long.”

  She glances away, her mind ticking over. “Taking me home would take longer. I’ll just go with you. If you end up taking a while, I can either go home and come back for you, or get an Uber.” Meeting my eyes again, she shrugs. “It’ll be fine. I’ve been wanting to see where you spend so much of your time anyway. Then, when we talk on the phone, I can imagine where you are.”

  My lips curl in an unbidden smile, once again blown away by her. “Okay. I’d like you to see it too.” I’d planned on taking her by and showing her around, actually. Just not when The Professor is there. A thread of unease curls in my stomach. If I stash her in my office and go see him right away, maybe I can get away without introducing them. After dealing with my mother already today, I feel the need to keep them far apart. Lauren doesn’t need to be exposed to his toxic bullshit on top of everything else.

  Nodding, I start the car. “Hopefully we won’t be long. I’m exhausted after dealing with my mom, and I just want to go home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Lauren

  The studio where Brendan works resembles nothing so much as a standard office building—concrete blocks, glass doors, a lobby with a beautiful receptionist stationed behind a nice but unremarkable dark wood desk. A grouping of chairs upholstered in navies and purples cluster around a glass-topped coffee table bearing a selection of industry-related magazines across from the reception desk.

  We breeze past all of it with barely a nod at the receptionist—I try for a friendly smile as Brendan pulls me along, but get a frosty stare for my trouble. Ooookay. I guess I’m not winning any fans here. Good thing I won’t have to see her again anytime soon.

  Brendan leads me through a series of hallways adorned with pictures of famous popular musicians and metallic records, but I have no time to take any of it in, much less gawk. He stops at a door that looks like all the others, pulls out a key, and unlocks it, pulling me in swiftly behind him.

  This must be where he works. There’s a large, comfy-looking desk chair in front of a cherry-colored desk. Two large monitors sit on top of it, keyboards in front of them—both the computer and musical varieties—a pair of headphones sits off to the right, and papers splay across the open space to the left.

  Trailing my finger along the back of the chair, I glance up at Brendan. “This is it, huh?”

  He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, almost looking bashful about it. “Yup. This is where I work. Not very exciting.”

  Peering around him, I notice the low leather couch on the wall opposite the desk. “At least you have a couch.”

  He tosses a glance over his shoulder, a grimace on his face. “Yeah. I got that a couple of weeks ago. That’s where I sleep when I don’t go home.”

  Slipping past him, I sit on it, giving a little bounce and making a face of my own. “Not very comfy.”

  He chuckles, extracting his hands from his pockets and leaning over me, caging me in with his hands on the back of the couch and brushing his lips across mine in a lingering kiss. “No. It’s not. But it’s better than the floor. Barely.”

  The door bangs open, and Brendan straightens slowly. A balding man with glasses stands in the doorway surveying us. “Tiffany said you were here. I expected you to come to my office right away.”

  Brendan’s posture appears almost casual, but fine tremors of tension run through his shoulders and arms, and his hands are clenched into fists. Not to mention that he’s planted himself directly between the newcomer—who I can only assume is The Professor—and me, completely blocking my view unless I lean to the side. “Lauren and I were at my parents’ for brunch. We came straight here, since you made it sound urgent. I was getting her settled in my office before coming to see you.”

  If I didn’t know Brendan as well as I do, his voice would sound normal. Respectful, even. But I hear the tightness underlying all of it. He doesn’t like that this man is here. Is it just that he’s in Brendan’s space? Or is it because he doesn’t want him around me?

  “I see,” The Professor says. “Getting settled. Yes.” His voice drips with innuendo. “I’m hurt that you wouldn’t bring her by and introduce her.”

  Brendan’s shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, and then he steps to one side, uncurling a hand and extending it to me. But his eyes never leave The Professor, so it takes me a second to realize he wants me to take his hand and stand next to him. When I do, Brendan locks his arm around my waist. “This is my wife Lauren. Lauren, this is The Professor.”

  The Professor gives me a warm smile, though his eyes have that same assessing look I got from Brendan’s mom, and offers his hand. With a quick glance at Brendan out of the corner of my eye, I lean forward and shake it. Brendan might not like having him around me, but I also understand that he needs to keep the peace. I can be polite and friendly in order to do that. And then we can discuss what the problem really is here when we get home.

  Home. How funny that I’ve already started thinking of Brendan’s apartment in those terms. My house in Spokane still feels like home, too. But … maybe not quite as much as it did just a week or so ago.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” The Professor says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  I return his smile. “You too.”

  He stares, assessing me for a long moment before finally releasing my hand. “Brendan, you should both come to my office. I have the details of the project there. You can take a few minutes to look everything over, and I’ll give Lauren the grand tour.”

  “That’s not necessary. Lauren can stay here in my office. I’ll show her around when we’re done. I don’t want to take up your time.”

  The Professor scoffs. “Nonsense. It would be my pleasure to show off the studio to your new wife. And then you’ll know she’s not just sitting here bored while she waits for you, wondering how long you’ll be. As a bonus, it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.”

  I give Brendan a curious look, not sure what he wants me to do. The muscles in his jaw are jumping, but he nods once in agreement. “Fine. If Lauren would like a tour, don’t let me stop you.”

  I try to get him to meet my eyes, but he won’t. He’s agitated and annoyed, and I’m not really sure what to do, but I don’t feel like I can say no. So I look at The Professor and give my best smile, the same one I tried on the receptionist. “That sounds lovely.”

  The Professor leads us to his office. I loiter in the doorway while he explains to Brendan what he wants and shows him some papers and something on his computer screen. It’s a much larger office than Brendan’s, and there are two chairs ranged in front of the part of the desk that faces the doorway. A conversation grouping of a loveseat and two armchairs surrounds a small circular table in the corner. Brendan sits behind the desk, casting an indecipherable look at me before putting headphones on and turning to face one of the screens in front of the wall.

  The Professor gives me another warm smile, another assessing look, and holds out his arm to me as he ushers me into the hallway and pulls the door closed behind him. One last glance over my shoulder shows Brendan’s eyes watching me, hard and flat, before the door cuts off my view.

  “You’ve seen the hallway where we all have our offices. Not very exciting, I’m afraid. But let me show you the recording studio. This way.”

  He tugs me along, my arm trapped in his. I could pull away, probably, but I’ve agreed to this tour. And the get-to-know-you session he’s promised as well. He takes m
e to the end of the hall and opens a door to a stairwell, releasing me to pass through in front of him before joining me. “This way,” he says, and starts down the stairs.

  From the way he’s been looking at me, I expected the interrogation to start right away. Instead, he regales me with tales of how he started and how he got his big break, producing a chart-topping hit for the first time five years ago. Then all the labels were clamoring for him, wanting him to turn their most promising singers into megastars.

  “I produced Charlotte James’s last album. All of it, mind you, not just one or two singles. And it’s had the largest number of hits from a single album that I’ve ever produced.”

  I smile as he leads me into the control room of one of the soundproof recording studios. “I know. I’ve been following the progress of that album. She told me how much she enjoyed working with you.”

  His brows raise, the only indication of his surprise. “I didn’t realize the two of you were acquainted.”

  “She and I lived together the semester she was at Marycliff University. I’m still living in the house that she bought there, actually.”

  A knowing look crosses his face as he settles into one of the chairs, gesturing for me to take the other. “I see. So you’re already familiar with attaching yourself to wealthy and famous people for the perks.”

  I jerk back, the smile dying on my face. “Excuse me?”

  He gives me a patronizing smile. “Obviously you couldn’t entangle yourself romantically with Charlotte James. Although that might give her an even bigger boost in media attention, I doubt she’d want that. And I’m aware that she’s quite attached to her young man. But managing to become her roommate is smart. Now you have a free house. And now that I think back, I do remember her mentioning a Lauren before. Something about how excited you were to fly on her plane. It is something, isn’t it?” His patronizing smile never wavers, turning a little conspiratorial on the last question.