CHAPTER 31 Ainsley Bradley
I Hear You Married My Son
He gets up to the room a little before midnight. I’m still awake since it’s only ten back home, and it’s weird to think Vegas has become home while Chicago no longer is.
First it was home living out of that hotel while I filmed the show, and then it became home because of Dex.
Who would’ve thought?
Things seem perfect right now, which is a scary thought indeed since right when they feel perfect is when they tend to fall apart.
“How was your drink?” I ask.
“It was nice catching up with my brother,” he says. He glances out the window. “God, I don’t miss this city.”
I laugh. “Why not?”
“Smog and traffic out the window here versus palm trees and mountains there.” He shrugs. “And this place feels…I don’t know. Claustrophobic. Like my family is all nearby, ready to swoop in and fuck it all up.”
I pat the bed, a king since we’re playing husband and wife, and he sits next to me. “Do you really feel that way?”
He shrugs and glances at Jack, who’s asleep in his travel bassinet a few feet away from us. “Do you?”
“It’s not like I’m running to my parents’ house to let them know I’m in town.”
“Why aren’t you?” he asks. “You could’ve stayed a few days longer.”
“I know, and I thought about that. But you’ll be back in Vegas on Sunday, and I want to be there waiting for you.” I lift a shoulder. “That feels like home now, you know?”
“Yeah. It is home.”
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“I don’t know. It feels like everyone in my family is keeping secrets from each other.”
“How?” I press.
He doesn’t answer, which only serves to make me feel like he’s keeping secrets from me. And maybe he is. We’re married, and we’ve gotten closer, but that doesn’t mean I’m privy to the things he isn’t ready to share.
I wish he was, though. I wish he’d share everything with me.
And it’s just another stark reminder that for as much as he’s let me in, there’s still a hell of a lot I don’t know about Dex Bradley.
He holds me in his arms through the night, and as we head to the funeral the next morning, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll learn more about him today.
He’ll know some of the people at this funeral—some he probably hasn’t seen since he graduated high school fifteen years ago, and others he probably left in the past.
I didn’t know him when he was in high school, but when I was in high school, he was already a famous football player.
I didn’t know when I befriended Ivy that her brothers were superstars, but I met them on a few different occasions.
It never fazed me one way or the other, but I suppose it’s pretty cool to have a best friend whose brothers play professional sports.
To me they’re just Ivy’s much older brothers.
Dex was twenty-seven when I first met Ivy.
He was so much older that the thought didn’t even cross my mind to have a crush on him.
Ivy was a happy surprise that came along six years after what the Bradley family thought was the last of the siblings with Liam.
Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Bradley were busy little bunnies.
It’s drizzling, not uncommon for the unpredictable Chicago weather, and the car carries Dex, Jack, myself, and Ford. We head to the church where the funeral is being held, and it’s already standing room only when we arrive a full twenty minutes early.
Apparently Coach Murph, or Kenneth Murphy, was a beloved member of his community.
We listen as different people speak to his kind spirit and how much he’ll be missed, and the officiant invites guests for a final viewing at the end of the service.
The rows file out with family first to say their goodbyes, and when it’s finally our turn to walk up, Dex glances over at me. He looks almost nervous, and then he grabs my hand in his.
It’s a small gesture, but it’s one of comfort as he prepares to say his final goodbye to a man who meant a lot to him. And that small gesture speaks loudly to me. I’m here to comfort him. To be by his side in this difficult moment. Isn’t that what marriage is all about?
It’s starting to feel more and more real all the time.
We head to a luncheon at a nearby restaurant, and that’s when we finally run into Mr. and Mrs. Bradley.
They don’t hug their sons, who have stayed close by each other for the duration of the funeral so far, and they both glance at me.
“Ainsley,” Mrs. Bradley says formally to me by way of greeting.
“Mrs. Bradley, it’s lovely to see you.”
“I hear you married my son,” she says.
Well, that’s awkward.
“Yes, I did.” I offer a smile.
“Welcome to the family, I suppose. Is this my grandchild?” She nods to the carrier in my hands, and we both look down at the sleeping Jack.
I nod. “Yes.” I offer a smile. “Would you like to hold him later when he wakes?” I ask softly.
Her eyes meet mine, and I think I almost see them soften for just a second. “I’d like that.”
Dex mingles, and I follow him around as he introduces me to everyone here as his wife.
It’s strange meeting important people from his past and essentially lying to them.
Sure, I’m his wife—but he doesn’t specify that our marriage came with a contract and an end date.
He doesn’t tell anyone that I’m really just his nanny.
But maybe I’m more than that to him now—now that we slept together.
Now that I’m here for him at this funeral.
Now that I’ve made arrangements to show him that I care about him and believe in him and will push him to step up and make the kinds of decisions he won’t regret later.
I’m not trying to change him, yet I think he’s starting to change anyway.
And I am, too. The old me never would’ve hopped on a flight with a baby to meet my best friend’s older brother in Chicago. I guess I’m becoming a new version of myself who likes to feel the rush of butterflies when my husband’s eyes meet mine.
Maybe I’m not the nerdy little girl who liked to play volleyball and didn’t mind a good crossword puzzle. Truth be told, I still like a good crossword puzzle.
I’m still wholesome, sweet, sunshiny Ainsley, but now I’ve got a little of the Bradley bad boy in me. Quite literally since he was inside me two weeks ago tonight.
When Jack starts to stir in his carrier, I find Mrs. Bradley before he fully wakes. She’s talking to a woman who possibly uses the same Botox person she uses given the sheer amount in both of their faces, and she turns toward me with a look like I’m a bit of a nuisance.
“What is it?” she asks.
“The baby is waking if you’d like to hold him.” I offer a shy smile.
“Oh, yes, of course. Excuse me, Karen,” she says to the woman. “This is my first grandchild and my first time holding him.”
“You can feed him if you’d like,” I say. “It’s time for his bottle.”
“That’s okay,” she says.
She twists her lips, and I wonder for the briefest of moments how many times she bottle fed her seven children. From what Ivy has indicated, her nanny was around more often than her own mother was.
My parents might’ve put me up to babysitting when I didn’t always want to, but they still always made us feel loved and cared for.
I guess nobody’s life is perfect, but if I had to pick between having all the money and advantages the Bradleys have but being raised by a nanny or scraping together and working hard to earn my own money to pay for gas but having loving, caring parents… I think I’d still pick my own history.
And lucky Jack here will hopefully get to have both.
I get him out of his carrier and hand him over, and it feels like a photo op. Literally. Mr. Bradley shows up as if out of nowhere, snaps a few photos, and then she hands the baby back to me.
It’s all very strange, but I feel better with the baby in my own arms anyway.
I spot Dex talking to a group of men, and I excuse myself to a table so I can sit and feed the baby. He may be my husband, and we may have some confusion about where our relationship is actually headed, but I’m still being paid to be a nanny to this little boy, so I settle in to do my job.
Happily.
Gladly.
It’s a joy and a privilege to take care of this happy boy, and I think, not for the first time, how wrong I was to go into freaking communications instead of education.
I’m in my own little world when a woman slides into the chair across from me.
“So you’re the one who landed Dex Bradley?” She looks me up and down, and the look of disdain in her eyes makes it very clear that she doesn’t think I’m worthy.
I press my lips together in a fake smile. “That’s me.”
She leans in a little closer to me. “Come on. Tell the truth. Is it for the press? His image? What is it?”
The truth is that there are probably dozens, maybe even hundreds, of women just like her. Women who were with him once upon a time. Women who were hoping to be the one who landed him.
But it was me. Or, at least for our purposes, it was me. It wasn’t really me, though, and that thought pulses a dart of sadness through me.
Did he just tell me he was falling for me to get me to sleep with him?
I have no idea. The heat between us tells me otherwise, but I’m letting insecurities creep in now that I’m faced with a woman who might’ve also slept with him.
Who I’d have that in common with when we did the deed wasn’t a consideration that ever crossed my mind.
But now that I’m faced with her, it sure as hell is.
“I’m the image consultant in the family, and Dex isn’t one of my clients,” a voice behind me says, interrupting me before I get the chance to respond.
I turn around and find Everleigh, the oldest Bradley sister, standing there. She’s got her arms crossed over her chest and she looks like she means business…until her eyes fall onto the baby.
“Oh my God! Is this my nephew?” she asks, turning her attention away from whoever that woman was.
I nod. “Want to hold him?”
“I’d love to.” I hand him over, and she takes over the bottle, too. “Oh, he’s just so precious,” she murmurs, staring down at him. “God, my brother’s a father. It’s hard to believe.”
He’s thirty-three. At this point in his life, it shouldn’t really be that hard to believe. But given Dex’s history, I get it.
I look around the room for him, and when I finally spot him, he’s talking with his father, but he’s looking at me.
And I’m starting to wonder whether we’re rewriting history.