19. Brynlee
When life gives you lemons, trade them for coffee beans.
Who the fuck drinks lemonade anyway?
—Brynlee’s Secret Thoughts
Idart through the rain into Sweet Temptations to meet my mother later that day, then thank whatever deity could possibly exist that she’s nowhere to be seen when I get there. Aunt Amelia is behind the bake case, stacking fresh chocolate-chip cookies, and the delicious scent of crème br?lée coffee draws me in like a wizard casting a spell.
If coffee is a love language, my translation is vanilla bean and burnt sugar.
Amelia smiles and hands me a cookie before she pours my coffee without bothering to ask what I want. She already knows. It hasn’t changed in years. “Here you go, Brynnie.”
“Thank you.” I take my first sip and let it work its magic.
“Looks like your mom just parked outside.”
“Don’t look so surprised, Aunt Amelia,” I mock that she’s at all surprised to see Mom getting out of her Maybach.
Why would she be?
The Kingston family phone tree might be as bad and fast as the internet.
Who needs social media when you’ve got my family?
You can find out anything you ever wanted to know about anyone in this family with one or two well-placed phone calls. I’m sure everyone knows I quit by now. And knowing my mom, she’s worked her flawless PR skills and spun it to make her look like the good guy.
Amelia laughs and wipes down the counter, then makes Mom’s coffee and plates two more cookies. “Be nice to your mom, Brynn. She means well.”
I roll my eyes like a sullen teenager and take our coffee and sweets over to the table in the farthest corner of the shop. We’re not getting privacy here, but since I refused to come to the house, this was as neutral of a spot as we were getting. I’m not even sure how many come-to-Jesus meetings we’ve all had here at Sweet Temptations.
Break up with a boy, meet your friends here to drown your sorrows in cupcakes.
Only have a few minutes to catch up with the girls? Great. Everyone meet for coffee because we were all going to be drinking it anyway.
The entire family is pissing you off? Okay. Meet at Aunt Amelia’s shop because she’s the only sister everyone listens to.
Mom shakes out her umbrella and leans it against the table as she drops a kiss on my head. “Hi, honey.”
“Hi,” I offer, still way too pissed to be having this discussion. Any discussion, really.
I push her coffee across the table and sip mine in silence.
“Brynlee . . . you can’t be mad at me.”
“Oh. That’s your first mistake, Mom. I can, and I am.” I make sure to keep my voice controlled and soft. I refuse to make a scene, and at this point, there’s nothing she can say that will change my mind. “I’ll get over it, but I’m not there yet. I know you think the world has to bend to the time-frame of Scarlet Kingston-St. James, but I hate to break it to you... That doesn’t include your children. We learned to tell you no years ago.”
Mom sips her coffee and crosses her long legs. She may not be my biological mother, but ironically, we look a lot alike. Though, unfortunately for me, everyone else in my family—including my mother—were all blessed with long legs. Everyone but me, that is.
“Honey, I was just trying to look out for you. The Kings travel less than the Revolution, and their season is shorter. It would be easier on your body.” She reaches across the table to rest her hand on mine, but I pull it back.
Fate is a cruel bitch.
For most of my life, I forgot Scarlet isn’t my biological mom. She was the most amazing mother. She never treated me differently than Killian or Olivia. She still doesn’t. Whenever someone else would bring it up, it would catch me off guard because it honestly wasn’t something I ever thought about. My biological mom wasn’t a good person, and I rarely ever thought about her.
But now... now she’s all I can think about.
Now she’s all my parents see when they look at me.
Even dead, she’s still coming up with a new way to ruin my life.
“I didn’t ask for a new job, Mom. You wouldn’t have done that for any other staff member?—”
“You aren’t just a staff member, Brynn. You’re my daughter. Show me a parent who wouldn’t move heaven and earth for their child, and I’ll show you a bad parent.” She sits perfectly straight with posture that would rival the Queen of England’s, but it’s a show. She’s holding back tears. I know her tell. And damn her for making me feel bad because I’m not done being right just yet.
I dig my heels in just a little harder.
“I’m not a child anymore, Mom. You can’t just mess with my job and my future because you think you know best.”
And just like that, any tears she may have been fighting back die, and anger takes over.
“At least I’m trying to plan for your future. Someone has to. You’re living like a flamingo with your head stuck in the sand, Brynlee. You’re in limbo. You can’t keep doing this.”
Fire burns in the pit of my stomach.
“This is why—” I stop myself and choose my next words very carefully. “That kind of thinking is why I am not ready to make any decisions yet. My head isn’t stuck in the sand. I’m living my life. I’m enjoying it. Hell, Mom, I’m thriving. I’m also counting down the days until I’m no longer under the umbrella of King Corp. so I don’t have to worry about you trying to manage my life for me because you don’t approve of my decisions.” I stand and take my coffee with me.
“Oh, honey,” she chides softly. “Someone has to manage your life since you refuse to do it.”
“I love you so much, Mom. And I know you think you’re doing the right thing. But instead of letting me make my own choices for my own life, you’re trying to force your choices onto me. If someone had done that to you at my age, you would have burned the city of Philadelphia to the ground just to prove them wrong.” I bend down and kiss her cheek. “You’ve never been a hypocrite before. Don’t be one now.”
And with that, I leave her behind and run through the rain to my car.
I think about trying to call Kenzie, but I doubt she’ll be able to talk. Across the street, Lindy and Everly’s bridal gown shop is open, and they’re probably both in there, but stopping by right now doesn’t even make sense. For the first time in my life, I’m keeping things from all my friends, and the worst part is I’m not sure I’m ready to change any of it.
“You look pretty,” Gracie leans her head against the bathroom door and looks me over. “Where are you going?”
“I’m in a bra and panties, Gracie. I look like a stripper,” I argue as I get ready for my big dinner with Deacon’s family, wishing I could tell her more, but she and I are continuing our own version of don’t ask, don’t tell, and tonight isn’t the night to break that truce.
Grace moves next to me and runs her fingers through the soft waves of my hair that refused to be tamed. I can relax the curls, but the waves will never be gone. “Fine,” she sighs before boosting herself up on my bathroom counter. “How was coffee with your mom?”
Now it’s my turn to sigh, already over today and trying to put on a good face for tonight. “She’s frustrated because I won’t do what she wants, and I’m frustrated because she thought it was okay to play puppet master with my life.”
“How come no one ever told us how much our twenties would kick our asses?” Gracie looks down at her foot, and I know what she’s thinking. She’s a ballerina at the height of her career, and she’s battling an injury and battling herself right now while she figures out what her next move is.
The move is easy for me to see, but I’m looking at it from the outside. It’s harder when it’s your life and you’re left to make the hard choices. I should know. I’ve been avoiding certain choices all summer.
I slip a white sundress dotted with tiny green flowers over my head and adjust the ties on my shoulders, then look at one of my oldest friends. “If they had told us, we wouldn’t have believed them.”
She shrugs one shoulder up to her chin and side-eyes me carefully. “Wear your emerald earrings... the ones set in the little diamond circles. They’ll make the green in your eyes and the green in the dress pop.”
I walk into my room with Gracie on my heels and lace up a pair of brown chunky-heeled sandals, then grab the earrings my dad gave me for my twenty-first birthday.
“Don’t hold a grudge against your mom for too long, Brynnie. Maybe she’s just trying to tell you something you don’t want to believe.” She wiggles her fingers at me in a wave. “I’m heading out. Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks, Grace.” I watch her leave as a pit begins to form in my stomach.
How many secrets can I juggle at once before everything comes crashing down?
Iget Winnie strapped into her car seat in the back of my car and stare at my Bluetooth screen. One message wouldn’t be the end of the world. Fuck it.
Brynlee
I did something.
Kenzie
Well hello to you too.
Brynlee
Don’t give me shit. It’s not like you have time for small talk. You keep telling me how busy you are.
Kenzie
I’m lying in the break room, supposed to be catching a few minutes of sleep while I can. But my brain won’t slow down. Wanna text or talk?
Brynlee
FaceTime?
Kenzie
**Thumbs up emoji**
My phone rings as the emoji hits my screen, and I brace myself. “Hey,” I answer as Kenzie pops up in pink scrubs. “You look good,” I lie.
“Shut up. I look like I haven’t slept in a week and was knee-deep in amniotic fluid forty minutes ago while I delivered the biggest baby I’ve ever caught.” She holds the phone above her face, lying back on a pillow in a dark room.
“It still sounds strange,” I mumble.
“Listen, it’s what we do. We catch babies.” Kenzie wasn’t lying. Bags big enough to move states line her eyes, and even in the dark on-call room, I can tell she hasn’t seen the sun in days. Winnie’s snores get louder from the back seat and Kenzie cracks up. “Tell my niece that Auntie Kenzie can’t wait to meet the sleepy little potato.”
“I will,” I smile.
“That’s not why you called, Brynnie. Now tell me what’s going on? What did you do?” she asks, very matter-of-factly, and I hesitate.
Am I really going to tell her this?
She groans when I don’t answer right away.
“Brynnie... I’m supposed to be sleeping.” Her words may seem irritated, but I know better. “Did you take the test?”
I look away from the screen and make sure there isn’t anyone anywhere near my car in our parking garage. “No.” When I lose the nerve I had a minute ago, I pivot instead of telling her about Deacon. “I yelled at Gracie this week. She’s not listening to her body, and she’s never going to get healthy and dance again unless she does.”
Kenzie’s eyes narrow on me, but she goes with it and doesn’t call me out on my half-truth. “Do you want me to call her?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. But if I need you to, I promise I’ll call.”
“You sure nothing else is going on?” She pushes me because she knows there’s more.
That’s the problem with having a group of friends who know each other as well as we all do. We call you on your bullshit. And Kenzie—well, let’s just say having your cousin as one of your best friends makes her uniquely qualified to push when the shit you’re slinging starts to smell. I crinkle my nose with that incredibly disgusting thought and stare through my windshield.
“You have to promise you won’t tell a soul?—”
“I won’t,” she cuts me off, then sits up. “Brynnie... you’re scaring me.”
“Not even the girls,” I warn her.
“Not a soul. I promise.”
She won’t. Kenzie has always had my back.
“I did something crazy last night.” My cheeks heat, and my stomach knots, but I can’t stop the smile from forming anyway.
“And . . .” she pushes.
“And it’s quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever done...” A soft laugh slips past my lips. “I’d be scared if I woke up this morning with even an ounce of regret. But I didn’t. And I guess I’m struggling with that.”
She nods thoughtfully, like she’s taking it all in, even though nothing I just said makes sense. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“I don’t think I can yet,” I admit, and there goes my stomach twisting again.
“Promise to tell me if you’re in trouble, Brynn?”
“Always. But for now, I think I kind of just wanted someone to know.”
She looks at something and groans. “Shit, B. I’ve got to go. Have I told you how much I hate full moons?”
“Love you, Kenz.”
“You too, Brynnie. And B...” She waits while I stare at her. “Take the damn test. Gotta go. Bye.”
I wait until the screen goes black, then whisper, “Bye.”