12. Ezra
MARCH
“When is your birthday?”
I went silent. How could she possibly be asking that today of all days? We’d been conducting these late-night FaceTime calls for weeks now, and it had never once come up.
“Uh…” I trailed off. Fuck .
“Are you having a stroke or something?” she asked. “Did you just forget your own birthday?”
“No,” I said slowly. “I didn’t forget. It’s just… It’s tomorrow.” I faked a cough on the last word, hoping to cover the worst of it, but no dice.
“ Tomorrow ?” Brie shrieked. “And you’re just now telling me?”
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Hansen’s birthday is really the only one that matters to me now.”
Brie scoffed. “Birthdays should always be celebrated, Ez.”
“Please,” I begged her. “Please, just…let it go.”
I could tell by her silence that she wasn’t happy with me, but that was fine. Her anger was better than learning how fucked up I truly was—so fucked up, in fact, that my birthday had become an anniversary from hell rather than something joyful to celebrate.
I breathed a sigh of relief when she seemed to move on.
“I have another question,” she blurted suddenly. “And you absolutely don’t have to answer, but…I’ve been dying to know.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” For her, I was an open book.
“Where is Hansen’s mom? Is she…dead?”
“No,” I said quickly, swallowing hard. “Though that might be easier.”
Once again, she’d unknowingly pushed on a bruise. She’d given me an out, but this was a story I wanted—no, needed —to share with her. Somehow, I knew she’d handle it all with care, take the news in stride, exactly like she’d done with everything else. She was so young, it would’ve been easy for her to freak out and run away from me.
But she hadn’t. She was still here, still wanted whatever we were doing. Hell, she still wanted more , even if we knew we couldn’t have it.
I hadn’t allowed anyone but Dad and Shannon’s parents to shoulder this burden with me. Maybe it was time I let someone else help me carry it.
“Then what happened?” she asked softly.
I took a deep breath, craning my neck from side to side. I felt like I was preparing to run a marathon. I knew when I finished telling this story, I’d be emotionally exhausted in a way I hadn’t been since everything had gone down.
“She’s in prison,” I said flatly, giving Brie a beat to digest the statement .
She sucked in a gasp but didn’t speak, allowing me space to continue.
“Everything about Shannon had been so glamorous when I met her,” I started. “She came from money, like…descended from John Rockefeller kind of money. And somehow, she’d fallen for me, this lower-middle class guy who only wanted to make good food and live a relatively quiet life. I wanted a family one day, but I wasn’t sure her family or their lifestyle was the one for me.
“And then, she got pregnant, and everything changed.”
I remembered that day like it was yesterday, when she’d showed up at the restaurant where I worked at the time, distraught, causing a scene in the middle of the dinner rush in an effort to speak to me. I’d ushered her into the small office at the back of the kitchen and, sobbing so hard I could barely understand her, she told me she was pregnant.
“I’d done what I thought was expected of me,” I said, shrugging. “I proposed on the spot, in a dingy, six-square-foot office that may as well have been a cardboard box. I was the product of a single parent household, and while my dad had done everything he could to make sure I never went without, I didn’t want that for my own child. I didn’t want him or her to have to split their time, to be shuffled back and forth until they graduated high school. Getting married was the logical step. While her family wasn’t…thrilled, exactly, they welcomed me as best they could.”
“So things were good for a while?” Brie asked softly.
I nodded. “We got married a few weeks later in a small, private ceremony, and life went on as usual. Until Hansen was born.”
I hated having to explain the next part, hated having to relive how fucking blinded I’d been. By exhaustion from being a brand-new parent with a baby who rarely slept through the night. By my desire to keep my little family together.
“She started cheating on me not long after she had him,” I told Brie, averting my gaze from the camera so she couldn’t see exactly how embarrassed I was to admit that.
At first, I genuinely hadn’t noticed. She’d pulled away from me—emotionally and physically—and I thought it was her way of dealing with her postpartum body and navigating life as a new mother. I never once thought she’d just been seeking intimacy elsewhere while I’d been drowning, trying to keep myself and our son alive.
When I did find out—thanks to overhearing a phone call between her and her lover when I’d unexpectedly come home early from work one day—I wasn’t even surprised. In the year that followed, while I was certain she knew I knew, neither of us discussed it. There was never talk of splitting up and bringing the fate I’d never wanted for him down on Hansen’s head.
We became roommates who shared a child, nothing more.
“I don’t know how long I would’ve let it go on before I finally mustered the courage to file for divorce if it hadn’t been for the accident.”
“Accident? Are you okay?” Brie asked hurriedly then smacked her hand over her face at the absurdity of the question.
“Hansen and I are fine,” I said with a chuckle, surprised I could even muster a laugh. “The same cannot be said for Shannon’s boyfriend.”
Brie gasped again as the pieces clicked into place. “He didn’t make it. ”
I shook my head.
I hadn’t known about the prior arrests and substance abuse issues Shannon had until that day, when her addiction to alcohol resulted in the death of someone else. I’d never gotten the whole story—Shannon refused to see me in the aftermath; in fact, she forbade me from attending any of the court proceedings. From what I managed to gather through secondhand accounts—mainly her parents who, once I divorced their daughter while she sat in jail during the trial, cut me and their grandson out of their life with such brutal efficiency, it made my head spin—Shannon and her boyfriend had been running away. She’d told her parents she was leaving me and she was heading to their house in the Hamptons for some time away. During their last phone call, she’d told them the attorneys could handle everything, and she’d come back into the city only if absolutely necessary.
A celebratory dinner had gotten a little too rowdy and, despite two previous DUIs, Shannon had gotten behind the wheel anyway.
They never made it out of the city before she lost control and slammed the car into a concrete divider. Her boyfriend died on impact while she sustained cuts, scrapes, and a fractured right arm.
“The judge threw the book at her,” I said. “Her prior arrests and subsequent offenses combined with her history of alcohol abuse and the fact that her addiction resulted in a death…well, he wasn’t taking any chances. She’s serving a life sentence with the possibility of parole in 2050.”
Twenty-seven years from now .
By then, Hansen would be thirty and likely have a family of his own.
But where would I be?
Surely not with this woman on the phone, who had silent tears tracking down her cheeks at the conclusion of my story, but damn, I couldn’t stop my mind from conjuring the image anyway. Of me and Brie, having made a family together, a few siblings for Hansen to lord over as the oldest running around. A big old farmhouse with a barn and garden and plenty of room for our babies to run.
I’d lost so much, including the life I’d never have with Brie because I was too destroyed emotionally to give it to her.
But I’d do it all over again as long as I got Hansen out of the deal. My boy was my world.
“I am so sorry,” Brie said with a sniffle.
“It’s not your fault.”
“None of it is yours either,” she said emphatically, swiping angrily at the moisture on her face. “Don’t for one second think it is. Shannon made her choices, Ez. She chose to cheat on you. She chose the bottle over her son, over her family. There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t enough. Maybe if I’d—”
“ No ,” she cut me off, and I met her eyes in the tiny screen. The fierceness of her gaze had me rearing back, those emerald eyes blazing.
“You are more than enough for m—” She cut herself off and started again. “For anyone lucky enough to have you.”
The words she cut herself off from speaking hung there between us anyway .
You are more than enough for me.
“It’s okay. Really.”
“It’s not,” she protested. “And I just…god, Ez. I’m so sorry you and Hansen went through that.”
And I knew she was. She’d carry this with her, feeling my pain. She was empathetic like that.
“That’s why I don’t want to celebrate my birthday,” I said. “Last year, I spent it in court finalizing my divorce from a woman who sat across from me in handcuffs and prison orange.”
Brie gasped. “That’s not a reason not to celebrate,” she said. “In fact, I think that’s all the more reason for a celebration. To create new memories to replace those bad ones.”
“You’re far too pure for this world, honey.”
I hoped she would always stay that way, intent on seeing the bright side of everything instead of the darkness like I did.
“I’m just speaking the truth, Ez,” she said. “If I was there, I’d force you to do something fun.”
“Like what?” I asked suggestively. “Like eating you for dessert?”
“That probably could’ve been arranged,” she said with a smirk. “I was thinking more like baking some sweet treat that me, you, Hansen, and Rik could enjoy.”
“Something from Granny’s cookbook?” I asked, perking up. The idea of spending a day with her lifted my spirits considerably, even knowing it wouldn’t happen.
“Mhm,” she hummed, rising from her bed to move through her apartment. A moment later, she rested me against something on her kitchen counter and pulled said recipe book toward her. She had that juicy bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she flipped through it, and I bit back a groan. I wanted to be the one sucking and nibbling on her like that.
“What’s your favorite dessert?” she asked, pulling me from my lust-fueled haze.
Truthfully, it had been too goddamn long since I’d last gotten laid, and I could definitely use an encounter that didn’t involve my hand.
Unfortunately, I didn’t want anyone but the woman before me. Maybe I’d grow out of it one day, but for now, it meant a lot of nights with my cock in my fist for the foreseeable future.
“I don’t know if I have one,” I answered honestly. “Dad and I were never really about sweets when I was growing up, and as a chef, you’re well aware that’s not exactly my area of expertise.”
“You should learn,” she said, still paging through the book. “For Hansen’s sake. You can’t be calling me every time there’s a cupcake emergency.”
“And why the hell not?”
Brie paused, eyes flicking up to mine. “I don’t know. Just seems like something you should do.”
“And I disagree. Why would I when I have the best pastry chef I know on speed-dial?”
Even from over three hundred miles away and through a tiny phone screen, I easily saw the flush creep up her neck and spread across her cheeks. God, I loved that blush. I wanted to press my lips to her fevered skin and warm her for entirely different reasons.
Fucking hell, Ez. Get your shit together.
“You worked at restaurants in New York City,” she said with an eye roll. “I’m hardly the best pastry chef you know. ”
I only smiled serenely at her, letting her think whatever she wanted. I remembered being that young and just embarking on my career, how it felt to have people praise me and think they couldn’t possibly mean it. She’d grow into her confidence, and I hoped I was around to witness it.
The next evening—my thirty-first birthday—I had my hands buried in a bowl of ground beef and seasonings—Hansen requested meatballs for dinner—when our doorbell rang.
“Dad, will you grab that?” I hollered, hoping he’d hear me wherever he was in the house. If he was outside in the garage, I was fucked.
“Sure thing!” he shouted back, and I listened as his heavy footfalls approached the door. “Oh, hello,” he said to whoever was there. The response was too low for me to hear. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”
When he entered the kitchen, a box in his hands, my forehead scrunched in confusion.
“What is that?”
Dad shrugged. “For you.”
“Who delivered it?”
“FedEx driver. Seemed like a nice kid, though awfully young to have that job.”
“Can you please just open it and tell me what’s in it?” I said, nodding at my meal prep. “I’m kinda busy.”
Dad moved around the kitchen, absently pulling open drawers until he located the scissors, and I couldn’t help but laugh. We’d finished renovations on the space a few weeks ago, and both of us were still navigating the new configuration. Sometimes, it took me several tries to remember where I’d decided to store the measuring cups.
I knew we’d get used to it eventually, and it was satisfying to walk in and see the manifestation of our hard work. It was my dream kitchen, perfectly functional and, according to Brie, very pretty.
I scoffed at the memory, and my dad shot me a questioning look. Just because it was bright white, with grey-veined marble for countertops, top-of-the-line, stainless steel appliances, and pale wood cabinets that my dad had spent nearly the entire months of January and February custom building didn’t mean it was pretty .
To my male eyes, it was simply a kitchen. Functional. The perfect place to feed our three-man family.
As if my dad could read my mind, he withdrew a card from the box first and held it out. “It’s from Brie.”
I cursed low, quickly rinsing my hands and drying them. “That little shit.”
Dad reached both hands into the box and lifted a squat Styrofoam carton out as I opened the card. Before he even pried the lid off, I knew what we’d find inside.
“She didn’t.”
“Who didn’t what?” Dad asked.
I nodded at the box. “There are cupcakes inside.”
Dad quirked a brow then opened the box. From this angle, I couldn’t see inside, but the way he glanced between it and me in question told me I was right. He picked it up and moved it around to my side of the island, and I gasped as I took in what rested inside.
A dozen cupcakes, each decorated differently.
I turned to the card I had yet to open and read aloud.
“ Since you apparently don’t have a favorite dessert, I gave you twelve options. Maybe now you’ll figure it out. Happy birthday, Chef. XO, Brie. ”
My dad barked out a laugh, and I glared at him. “What’s so funny?”
He shrugged. “She’s got you pegged. What’s going on there?”
I sighed, lifting a hand to scrub it over my face. “I don’t know, Dad,” I said, exasperated. “There’s something there. That day we cooked together at the winery, we—”
He cut me off with a raised hand before I could go further. “I don’t need the details of your sex life, Ez. Just…be smart.” I resisted the urge to squirm under that dark gaze, hating how easily he’d guessed what happened. He glanced pointedly between me and my son. “There’s more at stake here than just your heart.”
“We’re just friends,” I replied lamely.
Dad hummed like he didn’t quite believe me then walked into the living room and scooped Hansen up. “Come on, bud. Let’s go play in your room so your dad can make a phone call.”
The truth was, telling myself Brie and I were just friends was getting old and losing all its luster. I wanted so much more from her, but so many things held me back.
How did I tell her that after she’d been the one to pump the brakes on New Year’s Day? Could I shuffle my priorities to include her? Was I capable of giving my heart away to someone again, knowing they could break it? Despite how angry I was with her, I had loved Shannon. Falling out of that love happened so slowly but so completely. I often wondered, in those days and weeks and months before the accident, when I felt things fraying between us, if it was ever real. But I knew it was—the devastation I’d experienced in the wake of her infidelity proved that.
Brie was Shannon’s complete opposite in every way. Yes, her family had money, but you’d never know it by looking at or interacting with her. Leon and Lena had raised those girls right, to work hard for the things they wanted. Each of them was humble and dedicated to carving their own path.
Brie was loyal, unfailingly kind, funny, sweet, and incredibly sexy. Conversation between us flowed so easily, it wasn’t uncommon for three or more hours to pass in the blink of an eye. But if I couldn’t keep a woman like Shannon around—worldly, yes, but someone my age and who, I thought, wanted the same things out of life—what could I possibly offer Brie? How did I know she wouldn’t change her mind in a few years when she’d settled back into Apple Blossom Bay, was running her business, and simply had more life experience?
I didn’t think Brie was the kind of girl who’d be so wishy-washy, but I also had never been a twenty-two-year-old girl. I didn’t know how their minds worked, and I didn’t think I could risk Brie growing out of her feelings for me.
I heaved a world-weary sigh and called her.
“You little minx,” I said when she answered. “How’d you even get my address?”
“My dad is your boss,” she reminded me. “I called his assistant.”
“You didn’t have to do this. In fact, I wish you hadn’t. I told you I don’t care about my birthday.”
“Well I do,” she protested. “You deserve to be celebrated, Ez. Today and every day. I’ll happily stay up into the early hours of the morning every night and pay an ungodly amount in express shipping every day if that’s what it takes to remind you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I said quietly.
Brie scoffed. “No, Ez. You deserve everything .”