The Merger

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

C arys

Thursday

“That’s not what happened, Tate.” I swallow a french fry and stare at him across the table. “Did you even watch the movie?”

“Yes, I did. That’s how I know what happened.”

“Did you watch the whole thing? Because the very end is when the twist is revealed.”

“Oh, my God, Carys. Yes, I watched the whole damn thing.”

I lean forward and look him in the eye. “The narrator was the same person as the hero—or villain, however you see that character. They’re all the same person.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they freaking are.”

He shakes his head. “One of us was watching more than the hero or villain, however you see that character, walking around shirtless and fighting people.”

“You make me want to scream sometimes.”

But not scream like I do with your brother.

My face flushes at the thought, and I tuck my chin hoping Tate doesn’t notice.

“I need to take this call,” Tate says, looking at his phone. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.”

Once he’s gone, I sag against the booth and sigh.

The last couple of weeks have felt like a roller coaster. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I woke up this morning. Each curveball thrown my way has had me ducking and shifting to stay on my toes.

Getting hired by Brewer Group. Dinner at Dad’s, which always screws me up for a couple of days, followed by his upcoming birthday celebration that I’m dreading. Getting life insurance. How did I get old enough to need that? Sleeping with Gannon Brewer and now attending a personal event with him.

I feel like I need a vacation just to decompress from it all.

Preferably with a naked Gannon.

My heart flutters wildly at the thought of being with him again. And, while the sex was out of this world, it wasn’t just the sex that I think about when I’m lying in bed at night. Or repotting a fiddle leaf fig tree. Or driving down the road, swerving to miss potholes so the Gremlin doesn’t pop a tire. Those things are expensive .

I think just as often of his shy smile and how it transforms his face into a whole different person. I remember his arms around me in the middle of the night while we lay in bed between rounds of orgasms. The sound of his chuckle while I entertain him with stories crafted to make him smile is something I hear on repeat.

He’s a complicated one, that’s for sure, and I can’t help but wonder how many people have witnessed this side of him. And, more importantly, why I get to.

My phone rattles against the tabletop. I spring to life, plucking it up before anyone sees the name on the screen.

Gannon: I just saw a cactus with flat leaves and yellow flowers. Weird as fuck.

A smile slips across my lips.

Me: Really? Did you get a picture of it?

Gannon: No.

Me: Why not?

Gannon: Who takes pictures of flowers?

Me: Um, me.

Gannon: I didn’t know cacti had flowers.

Me: Finally! Something you didn’t know.

Gannon:

Me: It was probably a prickly pear cactus. And the flat parts aren’t leaves, they’re stems. They’re actually water storage systems and basically solar panels to absorb sunlight. It’s an effective design.

Gannon: Fascinating.

I’m not sure if he means that or is being sarcastic.

“I’m back,” Tate says, sliding back in the booth.

I ignore him, staring at my text exchange with Gannon. I only get him for a few minutes a day, so Tate will have to wait.

Me: Fascinating cacti facts aside, I can’t wait to see you on Saturday.

Gannon: I dread this event.

Me: Why?

“Who are you texting?” Tate asks. “Don’t ignore me. I’m needy.”

“Give me a second.”

“If that’s Courtney, tell her to stop sending me nude selfies.”

I glance up at him. “Courtney’s not sending you nude selfies.”

He winks. “Just seeing if you were even listening to me.”

Asshole.

Gannon: I just don’t like giving speeches.

Me: Then why did you say yes?

Gannon: Good question. I’ve been wondering that myself.

Huh .

Gannon: Have a good day, Carys.

Me: You, too. Xo

“You okay?” Tate asks, stealing a fry from my plate.

A lump settles in my throat as I prepare to lie to my best friend. Tate and I share everything and have for so many years. But I can’t share this with him. He doesn’t need to know I’m sleeping with his brother and, if he found out, he’d ruin it for us. Not intentionally—Tate isn’t a cockblocker. He’d just put so much pressure on the situation that it would blow up before Gannon and I are ready for it to end.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just dealing with something … prickly.”

My screen dims and I know I won’t hear from Gannon again today.

And that sucks.

Friday

Gannon

“There’s been a slight change of plans for tomorrow,” Kylie says through the speakerphone. “Your departure time has moved back two hours.”

I growl, pouring myself another drink. “What the fuck, Kylie?”

She laughs. “I knew this wasn’t going to go over well.”

You have no clue . “One would think since my brother owns an airline that I might be able to get home on time.”

“One would think. I suggest taking that up with said brother, who has the power in these situations instead of your loyal, hardworking, efficient executive assistant.”

I grin, rolling my eyes.

“For the record, I did try getting you a flight out tonight,” she says. “With the storms popping up all over the country, everything’s messy.”

“Thanks for trying.”

“Of course. While I have you on the phone, I arranged for a call with Charlie’s office and Renn for next Thursday. It was the earliest I could schedule it.”

“Did you forward my notes after my call with Charlie to Renn?”

She laughs again. “Yes. Yes, I did. And Renn sent back a colorful interpretation of your notes, as well as commentary that would make for an amusing read if you’re bored on the plane in the morning.”

“One more thing, I have that event tomorrow night.”

“I called Renn’s personal assistant and had her send a new suit to your house this morning,” Kylie says. “It’s hanging in your closet right beside your socks from the dry cleaner.”

I chuckle. “They found them?”

“You were so pissed about them that I offered a reward if they could be located. Astrid grabbed them for you.”

“Send Astrid flowers or something and tell her thank you.”

“Consider it done.”

I hesitate. “While you’re at it, could you have a bouquet of peonies sent to my house tomorrow afternoon? I need them there before I land.”

“Oh. Sure,” she says, bamboozled. “Any certain colors? Any vibe you’re after?”

I scratch my head. What color flowers do I want to send? I have no clue.

“Orange or peach,” I say, remembering the color of Carys’s skirt the other night. “I assume there are orange peonies.”

“I shall scour every florist in this city until I find them.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything else?” she asks, amused.

“That’s it. Thanks, Kylie.”

“You’re very welcome, sir. Have a safe flight and enjoy your event tomorrow.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

I down my drink and then head into the bedroom.

My bags are packed, ready to go in the morning. It’s an odd sensation wanting to be home for something other than being alone. Usually, I’m ready to get back to my place to wall myself off from the world. It’s concerning that I’m itching to return to see someone—especially Carys.

I hoped putting miles between us after spending the night with her would put things on ice. Surely, I’d regain my composure. I’d remember all the reasons she was a bad idea and would return to Nashville with boundaries back in place.

Instead, I’m ordering flowers for her and noticing cacti. Who notices cacti? Someone who’s fucked. That’s who.

“I only want one thing from you. And it’s not your heart.”

I sit on the edge of the bed as a heaviness settles in my chest. I’m not egotistical enough to believe this is anything more than her having a good time. I’m forty years old, for fuck’s sake. My job takes over much of my life. I’m not the kind of person who someone with their whole life in front of them chooses to spend more than a few weeks—a few months with, at best.

I’m Gannon Reid Brewer, after all.

My phone vibrates on the bed. When I see her name on the screen, my entire body exhales.

Carys: Okay, I went shopping today and bought three dresses. I need to pick one and take the other two back. But, since I don’t really know where we’re going, I don’t know which one to choose. Pictures incoming. Pick one.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Three pictures load in quick succession.

My jaw hangs open as I swipe through them.

The first dress is black, but that’s not what I see. I notice how her eyes sparkle as she poses in front of the mirror to snap the image. The second dress is green, but her smile is more genuine. The third dress is a deep purple. She stands taller in this snapshot, her shoulders back and her chin lifted. She exudes confidence and beauty—like a woman who feels good in what she’s wearing.

I smile as I type out my response.

Me: You’re beautiful.

Carys:

Me: I love them all. But I pick the purple one.

Carys: Yay! That’s the one I was going to pick, too. But the black one is a little classier, I think, and the green one is more playful. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Me: Keep them all.

Carys: I can’t. I’ll never wear them and it’s irresponsible financially.

Can she not tell me shit like that? Because it makes me like her even more, and that’s dangerous.

I shake my head, feeling myself slipping closer to feelings I don’t want to have. I’d offer to buy the dresses for her, but I know she’ll fight me and the last thing I want to do is make her feel inferior—especially over something as stupid as money.

Me: I’ll text you when I’m on my way to get you tomorrow evening. My flight’s delayed, but I’ll keep you informed as the day goes on.

Carys: Sounds good. I can’t wait.

Me either.

Carys: What are you going to do for the rest of the night?

Me: I’m going to find some food. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it was a long, draining day.

Carys: Want me to send you something?

I laugh.

Carys: I’m serious. I’m great at ordering food online. It’s a hidden talent.

Me: I can feed myself but thank you.

Carys: I know you can. But sometimes it’s nice to have someone make the easy decisions for you. You’ve had a long day. It would make me feel good to order you dinner.

I stare at the screen with a lump nestled in my throat.

Me: That’s very sweet of you, but I got it.

Carys: Okay. Sweet dreams, Gannon. I’ll see you tomorrow in the purple dress.

Me: See you then. Good night. Xo

Carys: Good night. Xo

I drop the phone and head to the shower.

But sometimes it’s nice to have someone make the easy decisions for you. You’ve had a long day. It would make me feel good to order you dinner.

My chest warms and I find myself smiling in a way I haven’t in a long damn time.

Fucking stop being genuinely kind, Carys Johnson. You’re killing me.