Chapter 4 #2
“And you think using me to promote the printer will make them choose you over him?”
“I don’t know! Maybe? But it’s the best bargaining chip I’ve got.”
Brody doesn’t reply, so I gaze out the window at the road ahead.
Cars stream out of the city, wipers flicking as a flurry of sleety snow hits us.
My mind starts throwing out scenarios for how the next few days might play out, like a stylist trying to satisfy a picky client.
But every idea, even the sexy ones, sends a prickle of nerves through my stomach, and with each mile closer to Hideaway, my anxiety builds.
“Have you thought about a backstory?” Brody asks, jolting me from a vision of Ethan dressed as a Puritan, challenging Brody to a duel while I swoon dramatically in my mother’s arms.
“About us?”
He nods, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Stop asking stupid questions!
“Not yet. Probably best to keep it simple. Maybe you were dodging fans and came to hide out at the coffee shop, not realizing I was in the far booth until you slid in and saw me.”
Brody’s jaw is so tense and chiseled, I almost wish I had a match to strike against it.
“That’ll do,” he finally replies.
Feeling a nervous ramble coming on with the speed of a bullet train, I continue, “I mean, as far as meet-cutes go, it’s not the most exciting.
Not like I was being mugged and you saved me.
Or like you were rappelling down a waterfall when carnivorous birds cut the rope, sending you a thousand feet into the swirling waters below.
And I was kayaking nearby, observing said birds’ feeding habits, dragged you onboard, then used my ninja paddle skills to protect us. ”
“In New York?”
“Well, King Kong was once up the Empire State Building.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Any other ideas?”
Even the tiniest sign of his amusement is enough for me to keep going.
“Mercury went so retrograde that the Earth spun into an alternate reality where dragons and elves roamed, and you were a warrior elf searching for the lost sword of Tlygonne. Instead, you found me, a plucky mortal, held captive in the tower of Khlessid-dhug, and you knew I was the key to your quest.”
Brody frowns, as if recalling something he’d rather not, and I stop talking.
“You’ve got quite the imagination … Do you still draw?”
I nod, my mental eye flipping through the hundreds of sketches I’ve done of the man sitting beside me. I feel like an obsessive stalker right now, even as part of me yells, “It’s his fault for being so gorgeous!”
“What do you most like to draw?”
I can’t admit the real answer, so I just shrug like a moody teenager being asked about their hobbies.
“And what media? Pencils? Paint? Watercolor?”
Again, I don’t answer.
“Guano? Blood?”
My head whips around. “What?”
Brody grins. “Just checking you’re actually listening.”
My heart skips a beat. “Rest assured, I don’t draw with blood or poop. I either use a digital stylus or pencils if I want a break from the screen.”
“Can I see any of your pictures?”
My insides lurch so violently I’m surprised I don’t throw up. There’s no way he can see any of the drawings I’ve done of him, so I fumble for an answer, my skin clammy with dread. I forget entirely that I have plenty of pictures that don’t feature him at all.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I’m torn. I want to show off what I can do, but Brody’s a super-cool superstar, and I’m a super-nerdy fantasy fan artist.
Any negative comment online about my art sticks to my soul like super glue.
No matter how many positive comments there are, they can never outweigh the shitty ones.
I know I shouldn’t pay the haters any heed, and most likely they’re just jealous, but I can’t shake their words.
They erode my confidence like drops of acid.
And it’s not just the hate, but the silence that also breaks my spirit—only hearing crickets in response after I’ve spent so long crafting a post.
“Maybe. I’m just a bit private about them,” I say, omitting the fact that I post the ones not starring him publicly online.
“Well, I can’t draw for shit, so whatever you do, I’ll think is great.”
I smile.
We’re quiet for a few more minutes, then Brody clears his throat again. “So, we bumped into each other at Espresso Yourself, got chatting, and then started hanging out?”
As I imagine the scenario, my eyes sting with longing at the thought of it being true. Even just hanging out as friends. Because he was my friend when we were growing up.
“Sounds good.”
“And how long ago was this?”
“I told my mom in April that I would be bringing someone home at Christmas if things worked out.”
“Okay. April. Got it.”
I cast my mind back over my Brody King Google Alerts that have been pinging into my phone for the past nine months to check if he’s been linked with any other women. Luckily, he hasn’t, but his ex has been throwing out cheating allegations.
“I wasn’t unfaithful to Marisa.”
Are you reading my mind?
“She cheated on me but didn’t want the press finding out, so she said I was the unfaithful one.”
“I didn’t believe it,” I say firmly, playing the part of loyal friend.
“Thanks. That … means a lot. But most of the other stuff is true. I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but you should probably be prepared for when your family starts grilling you about why you’re with someone like me.”
“They would never do that.”
He huffs. “If I were them, I would. I wouldn’t want you with me.”
I want to jump to his defense, and my family’s, but I don’t want Brody to know how much I really know about his recent escapades.
And I’m not sure I trust Ethan’s response when he sees Brody with me.
It’s one thing for Brody to show up unannounced after so long, but sharing Christmas with the family?
Dating his little sister behind everyone’s backs?
So instead, I say, “I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions. And anyway, my family loves you.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t deserve their love.”
“That’s not true! You can’t say that!”
“Oh yeah? Where the fuck have I been for the last twelve years, Piper? Chasing my dreams and leaving my best friends behind.”
I don’t know how to reply, because I have the same thoughts.
“I should have been at their wedding,” he continues, his voice aching with regret. “I should have come back for …”
He can’t say Olivia’s name or “the funeral,” and I understand. It’s been four years, but there’s still a hole in our family that will never fully heal.
Without thinking, I reach across the center console and touch his thigh. I want to comfort him, but he stiffens, glancing down at my hand as if it’s diseased or on fire.
“Sorry,” I say, jerking it away and sitting on it, lest it decide to go rogue again.
“This is really hard for me, you know, going back,” he says, haltingly. “And I want you to know that I’m grateful you agreed to Marv’s crazy idea.”
He gives me a quick glance and I see a glimpse in his expression of the old Brody. The one who was vulnerable. Real.
“I’m glad you’re here to hold my hand through this,” he continues. “Metaphorically, of course.”
Oh … so no hand-holding then in this fake relationship.
Frowning, Brody rubs his jaw. “Although I expect in public, we probably should. At least when Marv’s taking photos.” The frown deepens, and he shoots me a worried look. “If you’re okay with that?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, while my fingers itch to practice hand holding immediately.
I distract them by checking my phone and the constant stream of messages from Mia. I need to talk to her before she explodes, or even worse, she calls my mom.
“Can we take a quick break at the next rest stop?” I ask.
“Sure. I brought food so we can eat on the way if you want to save time.”
“Does that mean I can do some of the driving?”
He smiles. “If you want.”
“Yeah. It’ll get us there quicker.”
Although it also means I get to sit in the same seat he’s been sitting in …
What is wrong with me?
Give it ten minutes, and I’ll be doodling a heart with “Piper King” inside it on my arm. I may look like a twenty-eight-year-old, but right now I’m thinking like a teenager who needs to grow up.
Half an hour later, Brody pulls into a service plaza in Darien, Connecticut, and parks at the far end of the parking lot. I’m about to ask why when he pulls a baseball cap and sunglasses from the glove box, puts them on, then reaches to the back seat to get a coat.
“You don’t want our first public sighting to be outside a Chick-fil-A?”
Brody gives me a tired smile. “I’d just rather get to Hideaway without any drama.”
He gets out and makes his way to my side of the SUV, opening the door and offering his hand.
I’m not as small as Harper, but it’s still a fair way to the snowy ground, so I take it. A spark of electricity travels up my arm at the contact of his skin on mine.
Brody doesn’t seem to notice, releasing my hand as soon as I make it safely to the tarmac.
Buttoning my coat, I head toward the building, Brody matching my pace. He holds the door open for me, and a rush of hot air meets us as we walk in.
“I won’t be long. I just need to use the restroom.”
He leans forward, and for a wild moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.
“Say hi to Mia from me,” he says, then turns toward the mens’ room.
My face hot, I head to the ladies’ room, fully aware I need to have this conversation somewhere private. It’s empty, but I still check every stall, and place myself outside the one furthest from the door so I can see if anyone comes in.
Then I call Mia.
It doesn’t even ring once before she picks up.
“Shoot,” she says. “I’m standing by.”
“Okay. Don’t freak out.”
“What the hell, Piper! That sentence is literally designed to freak anyone out. What are you going to ask me to do next? Calm down?”
I giggle. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t know how you’ll react.”
“Just tell me then! It can’t be any worse than the thousand scenarios I’ve been running through for the last hour!”
I glance around to make sure no one’s nearby, then quickly tell her everything that’s happened since the Google Alert about Brody being caught “Loved Up” pinged on my phone.
To give Mia credit, there’s only a few seconds of silence before she’s off again.
“Okay, first up, this is freaking amazing, and it’s like your teenage fantasies are coming true—”
“What do you—”
“Come on, Piper, I bet you’re as hot for him now as you were when we were sixteen.”
“I’m not—”
“Second, props to his agent for the idea. Brody needs to come back to Hideaway to see Ethan, and the longer he leaves it, the harder it’s gonna be.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me.
“Third, this solves all your problems vis-à-vis your non-existent boyfriend. I bet your mom lays an egg when she finds out it’s Brody.”
I snort. She’s not wrong.
“Fourth, you can’t tell anyone else apart from me it’s fake or someone will blab. I’ll be your wing woman and help manage the situation. Just put me in touch with this Marv dude, and I’ll coordinate your couple sightings and keep him away from you if he gets too much.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course! I’m going to have a riot. I’ll tell him I’m taking the photos. That way, I can sell them and make sure you look hot AF. If you’re cool with that?”
“Absolutely.” Mia’s a photographer, and I know how hard it is for her to make a decent income.
She squeals down the phone so loudly that I have to hold it away from my ear. “This is gonna be so much fun!”
Having her on my side makes me feel a whole lot better, like this crazy scheme might actually work.
“Okay, when will you get here?”
“If we only take quick pee breaks, we should hopefully arrive by five thirty. We’ll pop in briefly to see Mom and Dad, then check into the Hideaway Hotel. It’ll just be us and my folks for dinner, so come on over and say hello.”
“Will do. I’ll pop by around six.”
“Perfect. I’d better get going.”
“Sure, and one other thing …”
“Yeah?”
“I give it three days before you’re banging.”
“Mia!” I cry, but she’s already hung up.
I quickly take care of business, then head back outside to where Brody is waiting in the car for me.
“I forgot to say hi to Mia from you,” I tell him as he starts the engine and pulls away. “But she says she’s going to help us. She’ll keep Marv in line and take the photos to sell to the press. She’s a photographer, so they’ll be good.”
He nods, then inclines his head toward the back of the car. “There’s food from a deli behind your seat.”
“Ooh! What did you get?” I lean around and bring the bags to the front.
“No idea. I didn’t have time to look.”
On top of one of the bags is a handwritten menu on a gilt-edged card.
“A selection of charcuterie and meats, including Wagyu roast beef, prosciutto di Parma, French duck rillettes, smoked organic chicken, and truffle salami from Seville. Cheese: Cave-aged Swiss Gouda, Roquefort, twenty-four-month-old Manchego, and limited edition Ossau Iraty. Freshly baked baguette, San Francisco sourdough rolls, Parmesan lavash crackers, and raw, cultured butter.”
Holy shit.
“Accompaniments, truffle honey, whole-grain Dijon mustard, cornichons, and fig and walnut jam. Salads and sides: lobster salad, deviled eggs with Osetra caviar, and Peppadew peppers filled with whipped ricotta and prosciutto.”
I turn the card over.
“Desserts: éclairs covered in Valrhona dark chocolate and filled with Madagascan vanilla bean cream, assorted macarons, and mini-Basque cheesecakes. To drink: a half bottle of Dom Pérignon and a half bottle of aged, biodynamic Bordeaux. San Pellegrino sparkling water, Badoit still water, organic cold brew coffee, and freshly squeezed blood orange juice.”
“Is that okay?” Brody asks.
“Um, no. Unfortunately, I’m a teetotal, sugar-free, grain-free, gluten-free, lactose-intolerant vegan …”