Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
R eagan sipped her first cup of coffee while admiring Brody’s ass in a pair of perfectly fitted jeans. He was at the stove, preparing a Bromelet for each of them. She briefly remembered how she’d tested the firmness of that tush with her heels, and suppressed a shudder. Each part of him was better looking than the next.
He set their plates on the kitchen table, and she got her first look at his namesake breakfast. He’d folded bacon and melty cheese in between fluffy yellow eggs. “This looks incredible.”
She forked a bite into her mouth, unable to wait another second to taste it. The smell of bacon had been saturating the room for the last ten minutes.
After two consecutive bites of his own omelet, he said, “I’m more than a one-trick pony, but not by much. After the Italian place, I was a short-order cook at a diner for two weeks. This was the only recipe of theirs I perfected.”
She swiped her lips with a paper napkin. “It is perfect.”
“It’s the cheese. Smoked gouda.” His eyebrows jumped.
It’s the cook , she thought, but she didn’t say out loud. A girl should shield at least one of her cards.
“It’s a shame.” He was regarding his plate, so she thought he was talking about their breakfast.
“I know, I know. It’s a shame I didn’t have this breakfast sooner.”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what I was going to say.” His eyes held mischief, and she knew he was going to tease her. “It’s a shame we’re not going to get a damn thing done from here on out. How can we possibly concentrate on anything but sex now that we know how good we are together?”
“You’re laying it on awfully thick,” she said around a laugh.
“Did that already.” He gave her a wink and then raised his coffee mug. She’d definitely drink to that.
“So.” She rested one elbow on the table and aimed for casual conversation. Mainly to remind herself that it was possible for her to think of something other than having sex with him. Repeatedly . “How’s the book coming along? Did my super muse powers help you overcome your writer’s blo?—”
He leaned over the table and gave her a succinct kiss. “I’m sort of superstitious about that two-word phrase. If Jaylyn has to come over here and sage the house again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Reagan almost giggled picturing Brody in panic mode calling his sister to cleanse the house but thought better of it. He looked deadly serious about not using the words “writer’s” and “block” together. She drew a cross over her heart and swore not to break his house rule. “Tell me more about the book. The first time I asked, I accused you of being a bit of a classist.”
“A bit? You had me labeled the moment you learned I was a Crane.” He polished off his remaining omelet in two big bites.
“I know. That was presumptuous of me. I am genuinely curious about your work. There is a life lesson in every story, right?”
“There should be.” He folded his arms, leaning back in his chair and regarding her suspiciously.
“I read an article on nonfiction writing the other day, to familiarize myself with what your process might entail.”
Suspicion was replaced with gratitude when he smiled. “You did?”
She shrugged, self-conscious. “I figured if you’re willing to learn more about my art form, it was only fair to learn about yours.”
He licked his lips, his smile holding strong. “I’m still settling on a theme, but it has to do with the illusion of home.”
Coffee cup hovering at her lips, she froze. “Illusion?”
She’d never thought of home as an illusion . For a woman who had been abandoned by her mother and adopted by her grandparents, home had become her ultimate sanctuary. Once she’d had a permanent home, anyway.
“I have a nomadic spirit. Settling too long in one place makes me itchy.” He shifted in his seat. “When I lived with Dad, we traveled a lot. Even when I lived with Mom. She moved a few times. I ended up changing private schools twice. Permanence isn’t really real, you know? I mean, look at this place. Your grandfather moved on. You’ve moved on. Sort of.” He offered a crooked smile. “I have been exploring that idea lately. I’m making a home for myself, but I know I won’t stay. Embracing the temporary, enjoying it, can be challenging. But you don’t need any thing in your life to make a home. It’s in here.” He tapped his breastbone with three fingers. “So, yeah. Impermanence. It’s what life is about at its core.”
She blinked to bring herself back to the present. The idea of impermanence settled in her stomach like a brick. There was nothing soothing or hopeful about the idea of temporary . What about how temporary her mother had been in her life, or how temporary Dustin had been as a boyfriend? Neither scenario gave her warm fuzzies.
“Anyway.” He tossed his napkin onto his empty plate, not picking up on her prickly thoughts. “It’s a work in progress. Thanks for asking.”
She forced a smile.
He pulled in a deep breath through his nostrils, and his gaze trickled down her body. With a head shake, he added, “Seriously don’t know how I’m going to get anything done with you here.”
“We’ll figure it out.” The statement was throwaway. She was still reeling over his insistence that home was temporary and everything was impermanent. If that was true, why the hell care about anything? What was the point?
“Oh, hey,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “Zander sent the invitation for the housewarming party this morning. You’re coming, right?”
She’d told Chloe she would, something she was regretting at the moment. “Sure.”
“Great. I need to pick up a gift and I was hoping you’d help me out. What do you buy a widower art curator who has everything including a girlfriend he’s madly in love with?” He took her hand and pled, “If you come with me, I’ll give you a million dollars.”
She gave his hand a brief squeeze before taking her plate to the sink. She needed to shake off her emotional reaction and focus on what came next. Unlike Zander and Chloe, Brody and Reagan were not “madly in love.” Reagan was in no position to judge Brody just because his life view had rubbed up against hers in an uncomfortable way. Since this conversation came after they’d rubbed up against each other in a yummy way, it had been harder to square.
“I couldn’t accept a million dollars.” She cleaned her plate and rested it in the bamboo dish drainer on the countertop. “One hundred thou, tops.”
Her attempt to lighten the mood proved effective. He came to her, standing close and reminding her of everything they’d done earlier, sans clothing. Her physical pull to him was so strong she nearly forgot he’d upset her.
“I’m happy to help you with your shopping woes, no charge.”
“How about I buy you dinner?” he amended.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He kissed her again and then left the room, leaving his plate and napkin on the table. A good reminder of their differences, and about the roles she would and wouldn’t accept with him.
She left the kitchen, ignoring his mess. She’d take Brody at face value and indulge whatever this was for as long as it felt right. And when it didn’t? Que sera.
Life was impermanent —he’d said so himself.
After checking on two clients later in the day and popping into the hardware store for supplies, Reagan’s cell phone rang. When she saw Kelly’s name on the screen, she hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hi.”
“Thank God,” came her best friend’s greeting. “You answering hopefully means you don’t hate me.”
“Of course I don’t hate you.” Reagan meant it. She was frustrated, and the jury was out on whether Matt was a horse’s ass, but that had nothing to do with her love for Kelly.
“I’m relieved to hear that. I have something for you.” The voice on the phone echoed behind her in the parking lot. Reagan turned to find Kelly holding her cell phone to her ear with her shoulder and juggling flowers, a six-pack of cupcakes, and a wine-bottle-shaped paper sack in her arms. “Surprise!”
“Kel…”
“I know I’m stalking you, but what do you expect when you leave your FindMe app on?”
“Having each other on FindMe was for safety purposes since we are both single women. I’m not sure it applies to kamikaze…whatever this is.”
“It’s an apology. If you will accept it. Can I take you out for a glass of wine? I’m assuming you’re done with work for the day. Or does the billionaire you work for have you pulling night shifts?”
“This really isn’t necessary.” Reagan opened her truck door and dropped her reusable tote onto the front seat. She was less sore about their argument than she’d been a week ago, but it was telling that Kelly hadn’t reached out until now.
She unburdened Kelly of the flowers, cupcakes, and wine, and arranged them on the floorboard so that they didn’t slide around while she drove.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Matt and I were working things out. I was afraid you would judge me.”
“I did judge you. But that’s not the point. You said things you shouldn’t have said.”
“I know.” Kelly cringed. “I was defensive because I was afraid you’d tell me that trying again with Matt was a bad idea. I should have come from a place of understanding. Which is where I’m coming from now. I want to talk without Matt being in the shower upstairs while you’re packing your belongings and moving out. I could have been nicer.”
“You don’t have to backpedal. We all have shitty days.”
“Yes, but I had no right to tell you to ‘live a little’ or to treat you as if you have no idea what love is because you’ve never been married. Hell, I’m no longer married. What do I know?”
Reagan had known Kelly a long time, which was why she thawed the instant Kelly owned her part. Extra points for her coming to the realization on her own.
“I can buy you more flowers. Or a big teddy bear. Need a new iPad?” Kelly pressed her hands together in prayer pose. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
“I love you too, and apology accepted.”
“Yay!” Kelly crushed Reagan into a hug that lasted three seconds before she held her at arm’s length and said, “I made a mistake.”
“Like I said, it’s okay.”
“With Matt. I made a mistake.”
Damn. Reagan had hoped against hope. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to believe him.”
“That’s just it,” Kelly said softly. “I do believe him. I made a mistake leaving him. What we had was worth so much more than divorcing over an alleged affair.”
“Alleged?” Reagan held up a hand. “Let’s save it for the wine. I have a feeling I might need it.”
“My treat. Key and Lime?”
Their favorite wine cafe. Which sounded better than going back to the house where Brody was busily drafting his “home is temporary” memoir.
“Meet you there.”
Key & Lime was about four miles away from the hardware store. The café, which served coffee before two p.m. as well as wine from noon on, offered a variety of charcuterie and cheese boards. The small strip mall also held a yoga studio and a posh secondhand store specializing in home decor. Reagan had never shopped there because Dustin had found thrifted home goods “unattractive.”
She considered that idea anew as she parked her truck along the curb. Lately, she’d begun to wonder if she and Dustin had as much in common as she used to believe.
Inside, she and Kelly went straight for “their” table. Since Key & Lime was on the far end of the block of stores, there were two windows in this corner. The table sat next to a tall shelf lined with novels. A handwritten sign on the shelf read: Key & Lime Library. If you take a book, please leave a fresh book or monetary donation in its place .
“We haven’t been here in a while,” Reagan commented after they each had glasses of their favorite chardonnay in front of them.
“Too long,” Kelly agreed after taking her first sip. “I wanted to renew my vow to you about letting you sleep on the couch. It isn’t fair for you to scramble to find a place to live. I talked to Matt about us encroaching on your territory, and he agreed to keep his distance until you’re settled.”
Kelly might have questionable judgment when it came to her ex-husband, but as a friend, she was Reagan’s ride-or-die. She’d been there when Reagan had been excitedly yammering about moving in with Dustin. Her bestie had made it no secret that she thought Reagan was moving too fast. She’d even suggested that Reagan keep one foot at Ike’s house in case things went awry. Points to Kel for that nugget of sage wisdom, though Reagan had ignored it at the time.
“I have a place to live.” Reagan swirled her wine, admiring the chardonnay’s legs on the sides of the glass while Kelly processed this new information.
“Did Clifton’s Bluff open up?”
After a hearty gulp of chardonnay, Reagan shared, “No. Brody offered me the spare room. Temporarily, of course.”
Kelly’s mouth dropped open before splitting into a Cheshire grin. “Beg your pardon? You are now living with the billionaire?”
“I am living in my old house, which happens to be owned by a billionaire.” Not to split hairs, but she’d been living with Dustin and look how that’d turned out.
“A billionaire Crane, no less. Does this mean you finally…” She made a lewd gesture involving her finger and an “OK” sign she formed with her other hand. Reagan laughed in spite of herself.
“Yes, okay? Yes .”
Kelly raised both arms and shouted “Yesss!” loud enough to garner a few head turns. “God. He’s hot. Tell me he’s terrible in bed or I’ll forever question my life choices.”
“He’s not in the same country as terrible. Sorry to break that news to you.”
“Ah, well. At least you told me in person.” Kelly sat back in her chair. “I’m happy for you. I wanted you to get out there and?—”
“Live a little. So you said.”
Kelly wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t mean to imply that you had no life. I just want more for you. My delivery was shit. I can’t be trusted to give advice about men. Look at me.”
“I trust your advice. Same as you trust mine. Trusting advice and taking it are two very different beasts. I want you to be happy too, Kel.”
“I don’t expect you to understand why I believe Matt after not believing him for so long.”
“Why do you believe him?” She had been wondering.
“I had dinner with his boss, Rajani, a month ago.”
“Really?”
“Blind date. Can you believe it?” Kelly rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Raj mentioned Matt and the rumors flying about his assistant, Cherise.”
“I remember her name.” Kelly had been very vocal about how Cherise had been “giving it” to Matt.
“Cherise was recently fired for starting rumors about her and three other male employees. Raj said she’s a pathological liar. He swears that Matt didn’t cheat on me and that he can corroborate Matt’s late nights at the office with clock-ins and paycheck stubs.”
“Wow. Did Matt hire him to say that?” Reagan sort of joked.
“I don’t think so. If Raj and I had had a spark of chemistry, I doubt he would have offered that intel. But we entered the friend zone the moment we sat down to eat.” Kelly’s smile fell. “Matt denied the affair over and over again, and I didn’t believe him.”
The moment Kelly found out that he was “allegedly” cheating on her, she packed up and left their house. She’d secured an apartment the next day. At the time, she refused to consider any possibility other than Matt lying to her.
“You backed me blindly the entire time. I love that about you.” Kelly shook her head.
“Ride or die.” Reagan hadn’t heard a side of the story other than Kelly’s. Naturally, she’d taken her friend’s side.
“I divorced him, Reagan. For nothing. I’m a lunatic.”
“You’re not a lunatic. What were you supposed to do? The evidence was there. At least, circumstantial evidence.”
Kelly finished her wine. “I need a second glass, and I need to hear exactly what you and Brody Crane have been up to, and how often, and how long .” She held up a hand to signal their waiter. She ordered two more glasses of chardonnay—one for each of them. When they were alone again, she cocked an eyebrow and clarified, “You know I meant long in two ways, right?”