28. Bridget
28
brIDGET
I pawed through my suitcases, looking for something suitable to wear for dinner with Chase’s parents.
Fuck my life.
I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to revisit the whole “potential future mother-in-law” thing.
My hair, still warm from the blow dryer, was hanging in soft waves. I regretted throwing away my makeup, but there was nothing I could do about that now. Mascara and gloss would have to do.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered under my breath. Where was that damn dress?
A knock at the door startled my already frantic mind. “Darlin’—you about ready to go?”
I had run over to the cottage to get dressed after Chase and I showered together. I blamed his massive cock for making me agree to this dinner. He could convince me to do pretty much anything with that piece of weaponry.
I ran my hand back through my hair. “Uh?— ”
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah,” I groaned. I resumed my frantic garment tossing, hoping that my favorite dress wasn’t lost forever at Kyle’s house.
The door opened and closed as Chase let himself in. He was in a pair of salmon-colored shorts and a white button-up. “What’s the matter?”
“Why do you automatically think something’s wrong?” I clipped.
Chase snorted. “You serious?”
I leveled him a searing glare. “I can’t find my damn dress,” I said, then turned back to the open suitcase.
He artfully danced around the piles of clothes and open boxes as he made his way through the cottage. “Darlin’, I don’t want to point out the obvious, but you know I have closets in the house, right? A few of them, actually. I also have these things called coat hangers . You may have heard of them.”
“I’m aware.”
“You could probably find your things a little easier if you weren’t living out of boxes…”
“What’s your point?” I asked as I spotted a swatch of light blue fabric and yanked it free. I slid the dress over my head and let the hem fall down to my feet. It was breezy and comfortable—a floor-length number in a pretty Carolina blue. The spaghetti straps tied in little bows on top of my shoulders.
Chase stepped over the splayed-open suitcase and gently brushed my hair out from under the straps. “Move into the house with me.”
“We’re running late,” I said, scanning the room for my sandals. “We can talk about this later.”
“We can be late.”
I froze like a statue with my back turned to him. “Chase, this is moving fast. ”
“I already proposed to you.”
“Yeah, but that…” I sighed. “It wasn’t a real proposal… It was… It was a promise that you would someday.”
“When are you gonna stop waiting on ‘someday’ and start living your life like the hypothetical day you’ve been waiting for is today?” His hands met my hips as he dotted the back of my head with a kiss. “For the record, all of my proposals are real. And I’m gonna keep proposing to you long after we get married because I’ll never stop chasing you. I’ll never stop fighting for us.”
I put my hands on his and pulled his arms around my middle—a place I hated being touched.
“Bee–”
I pulled his arms tighter, cinching them around my waist. “I love you.”
“Love you more, darlin’. Don’t ever doubt it.”
We drove down the winding road to Mr. and Mrs. Brannan’s house. Luna curled up in the back seat and nibbled on Quackers the stuffed duck.
Chase had a one-hand grip on the steering wheel, casually looking sexy as sin with a lazy smile painting his face.
“I didn’t have the greatest relationship with Kyle’s mom,” I said as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “And you already know my mom was absent at best.”
He laced our fingers together and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Mrs. Kingsley is a hateful little shrew of a woman. Sometimes she was more critical of me than Kyle was.” I let out a caustic huff. “And Kyle just wanted me to be her. I spent way too much time and energy trying to make that witch like me. ”
On that admission, Chase did the one thing I didn’t expect. He laughed.
“It’s not funny!”
He fought down the smile. “I know.”
“Then why are you laughing!” I giggled.
Chase peeled his eyes away from the road to look me up and down. Looking back at the asphalt, he said, “You don’t know what you’re in for.”
“What do you mean?”
He licked his lips and shifted his grip on the steering wheel. “My momma loves you.”
“She doesn’t know me.” She knew the girl I used to be.
“She knows that I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers, and she knows that I’ve never brought a girl over to their house.”
“Really?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Prepare to be smothered. She’s not subtle. I apologize in advance for when she asks when—not if—we’re gonna give her grandbabies.”
I groaned, but it turned to a laugh. “Oh, God…”
“Just warning you.”
“Eh.” I waved it off. “That’s not as bad as Kyle’s mom picking out my wedding dress.”
Chase was stunned. “Forgive me for not knowing a lot about how all that works, but isn’t that something you should have picked out?”
“You would think so… But that’s not how it was with Kyle. The engagement was a sham. I didn’t have a say in any of it. Everything was done for optics. Kyle and his mom planned everything. The only reason I never had to go through with it was that the venue they wanted didn’t have availability until next month. ”
Chase’s jaw flared as he gritted his teeth so hard I thought he’d chip a tooth.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Can’t believe you would’ve been marrying him next month…”
“I’m sorry he sent you an invitation. It was a dick move.”
Chase shrugged. “I’m not surprised given everything I know about the, uh, situation. Probably just did it to goad me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” he rasped as he pulled into a cute little neighborhood. “You never have to apologize to me. At least now I don’t have to drive out to the beach and get blackout drunk on your wedding day.”
I looked up at him.
Chase’s eyes were locked on mine. It was like he was staring straight into my soul. There wasn’t a shred of humor in his voice when he said, “It was either get drunk or be the guy who storms in and crashes the wedding when the preacher asks if anyone objects.”
I sighed as I stared at the rows of matching houses. “Your mom is really nice. It’s just… Once bitten, twice as shy. And I’ve been bitten a whole fucking lot.”
“Kyle’s mom sounds like a cunt, and your mom didn’t deserve you,” he said, lifting my hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it. “And it’s on her that she missed out on knowing how fucking amazing you are. It’s not on you.” He cracked a smile. “And I guess she missed out on getting to know Jase, too. But I’m not in love with him.”
I snorted. “I think Mel might beat you up if you were.”
Chase parked his truck along the sidewalk in front of the Brannan’s house. It was tucked in an adorable fifty-five plus community in a new development off Highway 101. Pumpkins and bales of hay decorated their front porch. An autumn wreath adorned the front door. A tornado of dog fur thumped against the glass door, going berserk.
Chase held my hand as we walked up the short drive. “Hey,” he said as we neared the door. Luna’s ears perked up when she heard the yipping furball behind the storm door. “Thanks for telling me about his mom.”
“Thanks for listening.”
He rapped his knuckles on the storm door before pushing down the handle and opening it for me. “Mom,” he called out. “I brought your Tupperware back.” Chase shot me a wink that I didn’t completely understand.
“Well, if you brought my Tupperware back, you’d better have—” Chase’s mom popped her head out of the kitchen “—Bridget with you!” She shucked off her apron and padded down the slick wood floors. “And my granddog.”
Ah, so she was one of those.
She leaned over and patted Luna’s head. “Luna, dear, you know where the toys are. Play nice with Mr. Big.”
Luna eyed the tiny Pomeranian, probably debating whether it was a snack or a chew toy. To my surprise, the two dogs trotted off amicably, disappearing into the house.
Apparently, Chase’s mom was a dog whisperer and the forger of magical snickerdoodles . I needed her to teach me her ways.
Chase leaned down and whispered, “She was really into Sex and the City. ”
“Is that why your dog growing up was named ‘Carrie’?”
“Yup.”
Mrs. Brannan clasped her hands together and gave me an up and down assessment. Chase squeezed my hand.
“It’s so good to see you, honey,” Mrs. Brannan said as she went straight for a hug .
“Mom—” Chase tried to warn her off, but it fell on deaf ears.
Mrs. Brannan threw her arms around me and squeezed with surprising strength for such a tiny woman. “You look pretty as a picture. That dress is just lovely.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Brannan,” I said softly, forcing a polite smile as she stepped back.
She waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll have none of that in this house. It’s either Sylvia or Mom. You pick.” Sylvia grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder, “Chase, your father’s in the garage tinkering with Lord knows what.”
“Am I being dismissed?” he asked as he followed us into the kitchen and dropped a bag of Tupperware on the island.
Sylvia grabbed her apron and slipped it back on. “I get to see you all the time. And I can’t get to know Bridget if you’re hovering around her like a June bug.”
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. It was kind of fun seeing Chase called out by his momma.
He dipped down and kissed the top of my head. “If you think I’m persistent, you’re about to see where I got it from.”
Before I could get a response out, Sylvia was shooing Chase out of the kitchen with a dishtowel.
“Now,” she said as she reached in the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Woodford Reserve. “How are we gonna drink this?”
Sylvia Brannan was my kind of woman.
I decided to just go for it and pawed around her liquor cabinet. I spotted a few bottles of ginger beer and grabbed them. “Do you have any limes?”
Sylvia snorted. “Of course, I do. What fun would book club be without margaritas? Bottom drawer of the fridge.”
“You have a book club?” I asked as I plucked the limes out of the crisper drawer. She had fresh mint growing in pretty terra cotta pots in the window over the sink, so I helped myself.
“Every Tuesday. We just finished reading the sweetest romance novel about a boxer and a baker falling in love.” She parked herself at the kitchen island. I watched as she floured the surface, then dumped out a shaggy mess of biscuit dough. “I just adore Whitney West. Her books are so sweet.”
Holy shit. Chase’s mom read the new Whitney West novel? That book had anal and bondage in it!
Dear God, I could never look that woman in the face again.
Sylvia paid my shock no mind and busied herself with biscuits. “Now, the trick is to dump the dough out and pat it down with your hands. No sense in messing up a rolling pin. Working the dough too much will give you tough biscuits. No one likes that.”
I watched her squish down the dough with floury hands and use a dinner glass to cut out the biscuits while I made our Kentucky mules.
Watching Sylvia bake was a hoot. She rambled on about the book club and all the gossip going around their little neighborhood.
By the time the biscuits were brushed with a milk wash and arranged in her cast-iron skillet, I knew that Mrs.Mendez from two doors down still went to the tanning bed religiously. Mr. Fitzgerald and Mrs. Lucy were feuding. And the Lees from one street over were still angry that Chase’s parents had beaten them in the Christmas decorating contest last year.
I sipped on my mule as she stirred something on the stove that smelled like absolute heaven.
She grabbed her copper mug and took a healthy sip. Her eyes widened at the drink, and she took another gulp. “Oh, you make ’em strong. I’m gonna have to keep you around.” She patted my hand. “Well, now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way,” she said as she set her glass aside and dumped a shelf full of spices into the pot on the stove. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
I laughed lightly as I fingered the mint leaves garnishing my cocktail. “I’m good. Just getting back into the swing of things.” It was the canned answer I gave everyone. No one actually wanted to hear the dirty details about recovery.
She reached into the cabinet and pulled down a stack of plates. “Mind setting the table?”
I took them, grateful for a task to keep me busy.
“Silverware is in the drawer to the left of the stove.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I counted out the utensils, piled them on the plates, and carried them over to the four-seater table.
“Have you been having nightmares, dear?”
The fork in my hand dropped onto the table with a clatter. My back stiffened as I tried to steel myself. No one had asked that before.
“Um…”
“I had them for years,” she said casually as she filled glasses with ice. “Little things would trigger them, you know?”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“They go away after a while. The man I dated before I met my husband was a real piece of work. He was an angry, belligerent drunk who had a chip on his shoulder and a bone to pick with everyone he met.” She walked the glasses over to the table and set them at the place settings I had yet to put down.
“I didn’t know that.”
She shrugged. “Chase has known since he was a boy, but I suppose he doesn’t talk about it much. I remember the moment I saw that positive pregnancy test. I knew that I’d raise my baby up to be better than the man whose child I was carrying.”
Wait. Did she mean ? —
Sylvia offered a kind smile. “The man I eventually married was one of the firefighters who showed up when the man who got me pregnant locked me in our trailer and set it on fire. I was eight months pregnant.”
I had always known that Chase’s dad used to be a firefighter, but I had no idea that they didn’t share the same DNA. Chase adored his father. Well, except for when he cheered for the firefighters instead of the police department during the annual kickball tournament.
“He was a persistent one.” A wistful smile crossed her wrinkled face. “When I was in the hospital after Chase was born, he showed up out of the blue with a whole bouquet of pink and yellow tulips.”
A faint memory rolled around in my mind. Waking up in the hospital. Trying to open my eyes. Trying to figure out where I was and get my bearings straight. A vase of tulips beside the bed.
Chase.
“For the longest time, I argued and told him we couldn’t see each other.” She let out a soft laugh. “I wasn’t brave enough to tell him that it was because he always smelled like smoke, and the scent made me think of the night I thought I was going to die. When I finally admitted it to him, he laughed. Then, he asked me out and promised to shower twice before picking me up.”
I still had a plate in my hand as I stared at the table. Carefully, Sylvia took it out of my hands and set it down.
“There are evil, vile people in the world who get off on acting like cannibals. They only feel strong when they rip others open and tear them apart. But we’re stronger than the hate in their hearts.”
I peered out the window. Chase and his father were on the patio, laughing about something. I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat. “You raised a good man.”
She gave my arm a squeeze, and for the first time, I noticed the aged burn scars on her hands. “You didn’t deserve the hand that was dealt to you. Neither of us did. But I’m living proof that it gets better, and I know that beautiful things are still in store for you.” She patted my arm and motioned for me to follow her back to the kitchen. “Now, let me give you my recipe card for coconut cake. I’ll let you in on a secret—Chase can be awfully bullheaded sometimes. Coconut cake is the easiest way to soften up a Brannan boy.”