Chapter 40 Burnt Cinnamon Rolls
BURNT CINNAMON ROLLS
Brendan
The numbers on my laptop screen blurred together as I stared at the acquisition documents that had been sent over from Ezra Huntington’s office, complete with my electronic signature.
…whereas BLACKGUARD HOLDING is the seller of the Note and Mortgage made by DANDELION FARM and EZRA HUNTINGTON is the purchaser…
There it was in writing: proof of my betrayal.
The document went on, every line a stab to my gut, each signature a nail in the coffin of the first good relationship—the first real love—I’d ever had.
If I hadn’t known before I was a bastard, I would have then. Only The Black Prince would save his company by destroying the woman he loved.
My cell phone buzzed on the desk of my home office, pulling me from my brooding.
I answered immediately. “Tell me you found something.”
Liam’s heavy sigh blew through the speaker. “Dude, I’ve been over the contract a dozen times, and all I can say is that I really wish you had come to me with this before signing. Why the fuck would you do this without consulting legal?”
I don’t know, probably because getting Simone’s niece out of danger was more important to me than checking the fine print.
Instead, I grunted. “We can’t claim extortion or something like that? The threat of litigation might get him to rip it up, don’t you think?”
“Thought of that already, but you don’t want that either, not before the board votes you in. Meanwhile, the sale is iron-clad. Rescission clauses are minimal, and none of them apply here.”
“Fuck.” Then I swore some more, resurrecting some of the filthiest curses I’d learned in the gambling dens of Southie. “There’s gotta be something. A loophole, a technicality. Anything. That farm is all she cares about in the world.”
“Unless you can prove fraud or misrepresentation on their part—which you can’t because you initiated the deal—there’s no legal avenue to undo this. I’m sorry, Bren.”
I closed my eyes, the weight of my decisions crushing down on me. Three days had passed since I’d told Simone I loved her, and by some miracle, she’d said it back. Three days since she’d looked at me like I wasn’t The Black Prince but a real one, up on his steed and everything.
I’d spent nearly all that time trying to find some way, any way to undo the horrible deal I’d made to free her niece.
Set P.I.s on Huntington’s tail. Set Liam to dismantle the contract.
Called Huntington every hour on the hour.
Threw as much money at the situation without giving him what he’d asked for to begin with: a piece of my company.
Nothing worked.
“Find other ways to leverage the fucker,” I commanded as I toyed with a paperweight sparrow Simone had bought for me at a curio shop.
“Buy up Huntington stock. Look for vulnerabilities in their other projects. Do whatever you can to make that fucker’s life hell so he’s either forced to run to his daddy or sell the farm back to me. ”
“Brendan, I really don’t think—”
“Just do it.”
I hung up, shoved my chair back from the desk, and paced to the windows that offered a view down to Fenway.
The Sox were playing the Orioles today, and for a moment, I imagined what it might be like to spend a lazy afternoon at the ballpark with Simone instead of being shut up in an office.
Maybe with a kid or two munching on hot dogs while we hooted with the crowd, sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” and heckled the pitcher.
Far too quickly, this imaginary family and I were doing other things around town too.
Riding those stupid swan boats in the Common.
Watching one of the kids play soccer. I’d probably tell a sixteen-year-old ref to go fuck himself if he ever made a bad call on my offspring, but everyone would know it was out of love.
These fantasies were getting out of hand. But I could not seem to make them stop, not since admitting one of them out loud while I was literally inside the woman I wanted them with.
Were those the kinds of things that people who didn’t constantly work did on the weekends and wear suits on a fuckin’ Saturday?
Was that how they spent their free days when they weren’t tied up with guilt and deals and all the other shit in my life that seemed more meaningless with every passing day?
The sound of laughter drifted from the kitchen down the hall, and I followed it like a dog hunting its bone.
Simone stood at the marble island, flour dusting her forearms as she worked dough with practiced efficiency.
She was preparing for this week’s pop-up while she chatted with Kylie on her iPad.
Selena had opted to take her daughter back to Simone’s apartment in JP, and while I couldn’t say I was particularly sad to see her leave my apartment, I could tell Simone was worried about them.
She called in constantly, mainly to check on Kylie and make sure Selena was doing the basic things a parent should do to care for her daughter, like making her breakfast or giving her a bath.
The little girl squealed when Simone blew a strawberry into the camera and pretended her arm was an elephant’s trunk.
“And that’s why elephants never forget!” she trumpeted before falling apart with laughter herself.
She was wearing one of my dress shirts over leggings, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her hair up in a messy bun, and a spatula in her hand. She’d never looked more beautiful. Or more trusting.
Fuck.
Simone caught sight of me walking in and offered a grin that seemed to light up the room by a hundred extra watts. “Ky? I gotta go, babe, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Maybe we can do a sleepover soon, too.”
“Okay, Aunt Simone! Love you!”
“Love you too, peanut.” She ended the call and looked back at me with another smile.
“Kid sounds all right.” I peered at the mess of dough and other spices on the counter. “What are you making?”
“Cinnamon rolls. And she does, doesn’t she?
I got Selena my old job at Fez, and she’s letting me enroll Kylie in preschool and bring back Ginny at night.
” With a contented sigh, she went back to rolling out her dough.
“I guess I feel…I don’t know, hopeful, maybe?
Enough that I called off the custody lawyer. ”
“You think Selena has her shit together after just a few days?”
“Well, no,” Simone admitted as she started sprinkling a mixture of cinnamon sugar onto the dough.
“But she’s smart enough to let me get it together for her.
And Kylie…well, Kylie loves her mom. I feel like I have to give Sel one more chance, if just for that reason.
” She turned her face toward me, beckoning for a kiss.
“Let’s not be pessimistic right now. I’m in too good a mood.
And these cinnamon rolls are going to be amazing. ”
I took my time with the kiss, enjoying the flavors of cinnamon, sugar, and a little bit of lemon on her tongue before releasing her to her work while I watched from a stool at the counter. The image of her splayed out on the kitchen counter flashed through my mind, my head between her legs.
Part of me wanted to indulge right now. Enjoy this beautiful fantasy with her one last time before the truth arrived and ruined it for good.
But the problem with falling in love with an angel was that you grew a conscience.
And mine was done waiting.
Just get it over with.
“You okay?” Simone asked as she hand-rolled her dough into a long tube. “You look like someone just died.”
I opened my mouth. “Actually, I need to tell you—”
The sound of the elevator chime interrupted me. We both turned toward the bell.
“Are you expecting someone?” Simone asked. “I thought Rosie only comes in the evenings.”
“She does, yeah.” A knot tightened in my stomach. I didn’t know how I knew it was bad news, but I did.
“Brendan? Brendan, where the fuck are you?”
“Shit,” I cursed softly.
“Is that Owen?”
It was. Several angry footsteps later, my brother appeared in the kitchen with a face full of thunder. “You son of a bitch.”
Immediately, I stood, positioning myself between him and Simone. “Good morning to you too. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“The pleasure?” He laughed, a strange sound devoid of humor. “I just found out you sold the whole project out from under me. Not just the bad properties. The whole fucking thing. Two years of my life, and you handed it over to those Huntington pricks like it was nothing.”
Shit. I’d been so worried about what Simone was going to think of selling her farm that I’d completely forgotten to plan for when Owen found out I torched his entire venture.
“Owen, I can explain—”
“Explain what? How you and Liza decided my entire goddamn division was expendable? How you gutted everything I have added to this company to prove yourself to the board? It’s all fucking gone because of you!”
“What’s happening?” Simone had stepped away from the island, flour still coating her hands.
Owen shoved a finger into my chest. “I’ll tell you what’s happening, Goldilocks. Your so-called boyfriend here dismantled everything I care about. Sold a bunch of our assets to the goddamned Huntingtons and shut down my entire department just to make himself look good.”
“It’s just business.” I was surprised how wooden my voice sounded now that I’d relocated it.
“You know how this goes. Dad will throw you another bone to play with, another venture to prove yourself, and if he doesn’t, I will.
You’ve already been promoted to interim COO.
I have to make the hard decisions, and this was one of them. What else do you want from me?”
“I want what I was good at, asshole! I want to know that my life’s work isn’t going down the toilet for a nice piece of ass.”
Simone’s eyes grew wide. “Me? What do I have to do with this?”
“Owen, don’t,” I warned through my teeth.
“Don’t what? Tell her the truth about your little deal with Huntington?
” Owen’s gaze swung to Simone. He looked crazed, halfway between shouting and laughing.
“You want to know what’s really happening, honey?
Your boyfriend here is a lying piece of shit who sold your family’s farm to the highest bidder. ”
Simone went perfectly still, her face draining of color. “What?”
“Owen, don’t do this,” I warned, but it was too late.
“Dandelion Farm.” Owen’s voice cold and precise. “Brendan brokered the sale to the Huntington Group weeks ago. While you were falling in love with him, he was busy destroying everything you care about.”
“It’s not totally like that,” I tried to tell her. “It’s a lot more complicated—originally, I was able to exclude them from the sale, but then Kylie—”
“Brendan.” That sky-blue optimism had disappeared, and something fundamental tore inside my chest.
“Simone,” I tried again. “Listen—”
“Is it true?” Her voice creaked with pain.
I could have lied. Could have blamed Owen, called him crazy, bought myself time to explain. Instead, I looked at the woman I loved more than my own life and watched her world crumble.
“It was for Kylie,” I said finally. “It was the condition of her release. But…yes. I had to sell the mortgage to Huntington.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. The farm. It’s still there. No one has said anything to us about it.”
“They won’t for another two weeks. Part of an embargo from the bank. But…your dad is going to get a letter from his new mortgage owner, The Huntington Group, informing him that due to a poor payment history, the farm will be foreclosed on.”
It felt like I was choking her inner light with each piece of information. I wanted to stop myself. But I couldn’t. Instead, I had to watch as she staggered backward, her hand reaching for her throat.
“Looks like this fake marriage won’t save your little farm after all.
” Owen continued to cut through the wounds I’d already caused.
“But I’m sure if you use your wiles a little more, big brother will come up with a different payment, don’t you think?
How many more millions do you think that pussy’s worth if it can’t save your family home? ”
Before I could stop to think, my knuckles crashed into Owen’s jaw with enough force to send him to the ground. “Talk about her like that one more time, and every one of those teeth is going to dance across my floors like a fucking hailstorm.”
Owen looked up with a bloody grin laced with murder. “There he is. My brother, The Black Prince. Should we find a backyard to finish this, just like old times?” South Boston was coming out in his speech for once, a true sign I’d really shaken him up.
“Always wanting what someone else has. Nah, I’m good right here, you covetous little shit. You want a fight, come and get it.”
One moment he was on the floor, the next on his feet, rushing at me like a linebacker. We crashed back down together in a mess of fists, limbs, blows, and splintering furniture.
Pain burst through my temple when his fist made contact. Owen grunted when I landed a solid blow to his kidney. I barely felt any of it.
Until I heard her footsteps instead.
With a final hit that sent my brother skidding across the hardwood floor, I rounded just as Simone sprinted for the elevator.
“Simone, wait,” I called, scrambling up to follow.
Owen grabbed my arm. “Let her go. You’ve done enough damage already.”
I could have hit him again. Could have swung around and finished the job, finally showing the ruthlessness my father always said I lacked.
But my fight with Owen was over. And the only thing left fighting for in my sorry life was halfway gone already.
Like I always knew she would be.
Like she should have done long ago.
As the elevator doors shut with a quiet ding, my heart followed suit. If this was even a little of what Ryland Bishop had been feeling all these years, I decided that I couldn’t blame the man for letting his life pass him by.
“Christ. Your left hook got better since you were ten. I think you cracked my cheekbone.” Owen stood next to me, testing his jaw. “She deserved to know the truth.”
“She deserved better than this.”
“For once, we agree on something. She definitely deserved better than you.”
He was looking for another fight, too locked into the patterns of our past to notice the way we fell so naturally into them.
But I didn’t bother answering. Not because he was right—he was. But because I had no fight left in me without her. Not anymore.