Chapter 28 Brady
brADY
Elizabeth wasn’t kidding about the chaos. Or the tension with her family.
An hour into the cookout, and the yard is packed. From every corner, there’s chatter, bursts of laughter, and the shouts of the kids weaving between tables. They appear to be playing some sort of game that is half-race, half-soccer, as they chase a giant ball bouncing ahead of them.
Her family’s been polite enough to me. But the difference in how they talk to her is hard to miss—awkward pauses and a forced cheerful tone when it’s clear they don’t mean it—and it’s starting to really piss me off.
I know Elizabeth feels it, too. She is quieter and shrinking smaller with each interaction.
I don’t get it, and as the minutes tick by, the angrier I get—and the harder it is to pretend that I’m not.
“How did the two of you meet?” Someone asks. We are sitting at a long picnic table with several of her family members, with a few more gathered nearby, listening to the conversation.
Elizabeth stiffens next to me.
“At a party, a few years ago,” I keep my voice even. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get Elizabeth’s number, but a mutual friend recently reconnected us.”
“Well, I’m glad they did,” Jean says with a sunny smile. “Beth hasn’t brought anyone home since—well, in a long time.” My jaw tightens. Her mother has made this point several times throughout the afternoon. “Not that she’s been home in a long time either…”
Elizabeth doesn’t look up from the solo cup of wine in her hand. “Mom.”
Jean didn’t miss a beat. “I’m just saying. You work hard. You’ve always worked hard. Nice to see you relax a little.” Picking up an empty tray, Jean walks back toward the house, and Elizabeth’s shoulders relax.
“Beth said you were in some sort of securities. That’s a finance thing, right?” An older woman at the end of the table asks.
I swallow a bite of chicken before answering. “Not that kind of security.” I smile. “I work in private security. Investigations, mostly. Corporate stuff…”
We’d agreed to keep our story as close to the truth as possible. Less likelihood of slipping up. Plus, I plan on being in Elizabeth’s life for a long time, and telling the truth now is easier than uncomfortable explanations later.
The woman raises her brows. “Like a private detective or a bodyguard?”
I make a noncommittal sound.
She beams. “That sounds exciting!”
“It’s a lot of paperwork these days.”
Her face falls disappointed.
Flexing her plastic cup, Elizabeth is about at her limit. So am I. The more the drinks flow, the more obvious the barbs aimed at her become.
More importantly, I’m eager to check out this tree she mentioned. There is time to get to know her family later. After I get rid of the Lapidarists.
Elizabeth’s younger sister Caroline has joined the group, sitting next to her older sister.
She’s an animated young woman, and it’s not difficult to picture her teaching a bunch of small children.
But the second her sister arrived with her husband and children, it was like a dark cloud had descended over Elizabeth.
Where she had been quiet before, she was practically silent now as her sister chattered happily next to her.
When Caroline gets up to refill drinks, I notice she has a pronounced limp in her right leg.
It doesn’t seem to bother her or even slow her down, but I catch Elizabeth’s gaze following her little sister every time she gets up and tracking her movement with a guilty expression.
When Caroline returns with a half-empty bottle of wine, she pours more into her sister’s cup.
“You’ll never believe it, Beth—we’re getting a whole new science lab this year.
Anonymous donation!” she exclaims, clapping her hands.
“Can you believe that? Everyone thinks it’s May Sorenson—she won the Quick Pick last year—but she swears it’s not her.
Even the school board claims it doesn’t know who it is. ”
“That’s great, Caro.” Elizabeth’s mouth curves in a genuine smile at her sister’s enthusiasm. “I know you’ve been wanting a more hands-on science curriculum.”
“I’m so excited.” Caroline shimmies in her seat. “It’s a dream come true.”
For a minute, Elizabeth’s eyes light, before dimming again. “You deserve it.”
“It’s not just for me, silly,” Caroline gently slaps her sister’s shoulder. “It’s for everyone.”
“Right. Of course.”
“You’re still at Mountain View?” a cousin asks. “Didn’t think you’d last past your first year.”
Caroline sticks out her tongue. “Guess I proved you wrong.” She turns to a different cousin, another teacher, and they dive into an excited exchange about lesson plans. Elizabeth listens, nodding where appropriate, but the smile’s all surface.
“Looking good, Beth. Glad you could make it.” An older woman—Aunt Frankie, I remember—strolls unsteadily up to the table. I’m instantly on alert. There’s something about the woman’s expression that says she’s looking for an argument. “We weren’t sure you remembered where home was, anymore.”
Elizabeth takes a sip of her wine. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy for Thanksgiving?”
“I was here for Thanksgiving.”
“An hour,” someone down the table adds, smirking. “If that.”
A few chuckles sound around the table. Her fingers tap once against her cup before she folds them together in her lap. “Well, I’m here now.” I can practically see her armor clicking into place, and I attempt to control my sky-rocketing temper.
“Must be hard remembering where you came from compared to your glamorous life.” Aunt Frankie flicks a look at me. “We hear all about how fancy Atlanta is.” She turns back to Elizabeth. “Still impressed by it?”
Elizabeth’s smile thins. “Atlanta’s great.”
“It’s so dangerous,” a man in a baseball cap offers. “And the traffic. Wouldn’t be worth it to me.”
“You get used to it.” Reaching under the table, I place my hand on her knee and squeeze.
Her eyes fly to mine, and I hold her gaze for a second before she inhales a slow breath and then exhales.
I stroke my thumb over her knee as much to show her support as remind myself not to lunge across the table at her relatives.
“Dang it, Charlie!” Caroline suddenly exclaims, jumping to her feet chasing after the herd of children, one of whom is brandishing a large stick.
“I know you from somewhere.” Caroline’s husband, Todd, points his beer at me, squinting like he’s just hit the jackpot.
Elizabeth eyebrows lift. “You do?”
“Yeah.” The wrinkles in his forehead deepen before clearing. “Holy shit! Worthington. That’s right! You’re that boxer.”
Great. “A million years ago.”
“Holy shit! I can’t believe it’s you. I saw you fight a bunch of times.” He elbows the man next to him almost causing him to drop his beer. “Dude. He was a fucking animal.”
“Language,” Aunt Frankie snaps, but Todd is too excited to stop.
“I saw you win the amateur belt. We were at UGA at the same time.” He turns his excited eyes to the man next to him. “Don’t you remember? It was that title bout senior year. That guy came out all mouthy, and he,” Todd says, jabbing a finger at me, “knocked him out in the first round.”
I can feel Elizabeth’s eyes on me. “I spent some time in the ring.”
“Some time?” Todd laughs. “You were a damn beast. I thought for sure you’d go pro or MMA. You destroyed in the ring.”
Another man leans forward. “Why didn’t you?”
“Wasn’t good enough,” I offer casually.
Our roles are suddenly reversed, when I feel Elizabeth’s warm hand cover my hand still on her knee.
Todd shakes his head, incredulous. “Hell, you were better than half the pros I’ve seen fight. You still box?”
“Every now and then.” My tone makes it clear I’m not going to say anything more, and Todd wilts.
Ashley, Elizabeth’s sister-in-law, chooses that moment to walk up. “Beth, I’m glad you’re here. Your parents really miss you. Rob does everything he can to take stuff off their plate, but it’s hard.”
Jesus. I think I’d rather be in a knife fight than face the gauntlet of her family. No greeting, just straight into the passive aggressive attacks. They’re relentless.
Elizabeth mirrors her sister-in-law’s smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m glad Rob enjoys the shop. I’ve been busy. It’s hard to get away.”
“Hmm, so I’ve heard.”
I narrow my eyes at the woman. There is a definite edge in her voice. I can’t understand her family’s problem. If Elizabeth’s brother didn’t want to work at the florist, then he shouldn’t. But his decisions aren’t Elizabeth’s responsibility.
“It must be exciting with all those celebrity clients and parties.”
Elizabeth licks her lips before forcing another smile. “It’s work. Not as exciting as it sounds.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a life,” Aunt Frankie points out. “You’re lucky, sure, but I can’t imagine trading this for all that noise of a big city.”
Elizabeth’s jaw flexes. “Not sure what you mean by lucky, but I like my life.”
The remaining quiet woman at the table drops her own little grenade. “I heard about your ex, Keith. He died, right?” She flicks a glance at me before looking back at Elizabeth. “You seem like you’re doing okay?”
The conversation dies, and everyone seems to hold their breath waiting for Elizabeth’s breath.
Fucking jackals.
Todd, fueled by beer, answers for her. “Beth’s fine. Right, Beth? They divorced years ago. We all know once Beth’s done with something, she’s done.” He takes a pull from his bottle and leans back like he’s just made a clever point. “She’s too important now to worry about the little people.”
That’s fucking it.
I set my beer bottle down hard enough to cause every head around the table to turn toward me. I meet Todd’s eyes. “That’s probably why she’s one of the most successful attorneys in her field. She’s learned that her energy and time are worth something and those who aren’t worthy get left behind.”