2 #2
Brandy narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you … danced with him?”
“Would’ve been a waste to let all that pent-up sexual energy go untapped.”
“Jackie!”
“What?” Jackie returned, wild-eyed. “Don’t judge. I was still exploring, finding my zone. And Rafferty was hot. Way hotter than his brother. Dancing” — she grinned, wickedly — “with him was no hardship.”
Brandy pushed aside the pang of envy and reminded herself why she disliked Rafferty Lawson. “Rafferty’s the reason Sullivan left. Back then,” she clarified. “Sullivan explained when he looked me up last year as things were winding down at Weeping Willow.”
“How come?”
“His brother was injured during an undercover mission and they” — she gave her friend a derisive smile — “whoever they were, arrived at our apartment and asked Sullivan to take his place.”
“Serious? That’s why Sullivan left?”
“Yep.” It still stung the way Sullivan had abandoned her. She had gone out that Saturday morning, only to return to an empty apartment two hours later.
Oh, right. He had left a note.
I’m sorry. Have to go. Will contact. Love, S.
Jackie grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you during that time.”
Her best friend had had her own nightmare to deal with — a mother dying of cancer.
“I had Richard.” Sullivan’s cryptic note had knocked her sideways, and their mutual friend had been quick to step in and console her.
“ Hmph .”
Brandy exhaled a long, spiritless breath.
Her friend was right to scoff. She’d believed Sullivan had never called.
But he had. Three months later. That, too, had come to light during his visit last September.
Richard had intercepted the call and lied.
When she confronted her then soon-to-be ex-husband, he admitted he’d told Sullivan they were engaged.
“You know what I could never understand?” Jackie said.
“What?”
“That you slept with Richard. I mean, seriously, Brandy, what were you thinking?”
“I was drunk,” she admitted, softly.
Jackie narrowed her eyes and leaned in. “You were drunk?” she asked under her breath.
“Yeah. That first time we slept together … it was the night of my birthday. I was blotto,” she whispered.
Her friend reared back and roared, “Richard had sex with you while you were drunk?”
“That first time, yeah.”
“What a dick thing—” Jackie’s head snapped up and to the side. “Shit.” She reached out her hand, touching Brandy’s arm. “Amelia.”
Brandy shoved to her feet and turned.
Her eldest sat on the veranda steps a mere ten feet away. Well within hearing distance. How much had she heard? Enough, if her wide-eye expression was to go by. She rushed over. “Honey.”
Amelia put her hands up, warding her off. “Dad had sex with you while you were drunk?”
“Amel—”
“Answer me,” she cried.
“It’s … complicated.”
Amelia harrumphed and shot Jackie a hard look. “You’re right, Aunt Jackie. My father is a dick,” she spat.
“I’m sorry you heard that, love,” Jackie replied. “I’ll just … go inside?”
Brandy waited till Jackie closed the door. “Join me.” She inclined her head to the canvas chairs by the firepit.
After a beat of hesitation, Amelia got to her feet.
Brandy settled back into her chair and patted her thighs. “Come sit.”
“I’m sixteen, Mom. Too big to sit on your lap.”
“My girl is never too big to sit on her momma’s lap.”
With an exaggerated sigh (and a smile she tried to hide) Amelia sat. The chair groaned under their combined weight, and they both froze. But it held, and Brandy closed her arms around her girl. Amelia relaxed completely, laying her head against her shoulder.
She twisted her neck and kissed her daughter’s forehead, tucking an errant blonde tendril escaping Amelia’s ponytail behind her ear. “I’m sorry you heard us badmouth Dad.” No matter what nonsense Richard dished out, she never spoke ill of him to or in front of her children.
“That’s okay.”
“No. Not really.”
Another huge sigh from Amelia. “But what he did was wrong , Mom. If some boy did that to me, took advantage of me, disrespected me, Dad would lay into him.”
She couldn’t refute Amelia’s claim. For all his faults, Rich loved their children and was very protective of his girls. “He would, too.”
“Why …?”
When she had woken up that next morning with Richard beside her, he had been as freaked out as her. And very apologetic. “I cannot lay all the blame on him, baby girl. We both had too much to drink.”
“He never … forced you?”
“Never.” Not that she recalled much from the incident, but there had been no forcing involved. She would have remembered that . Besides, Rich might be a dick, but he wasn’t a rapist.
“Do you regret it?”
Brandy tightened her arms around her girl and leaned her cheek against Amelia’s head. “How can I? That’s how I ended up with you, Pres, and Livvie. I will never regret the three of you.”
“But … you had to get married. Because of that night. Because of me,” she added in a soft, little-girl voice.
Oh, Amelia. My poor baby.
“Not to gross you out, Mimi-girl, but you weren’t conceived that night. And any subsequent … encounters took place with both of us sober.”
“Oh.”
That single exclamation was laden with emotion.
“But even if you were, I’d’ve loved you just the same. You’re my firstborn, honey, and my very special Mimi-girl.”
“Really?”
“For sure. And one day, when you hold your first baby in your arms, you’ll understand. But” — she pulled back and looked her girl square in the eye — “not for many years. And no teenage pregnancies. Yeah?”
“ Mom! ”
“Just saying. I’m far too young to be a grandma. And I still need to survive y’all’s teenage years.”
Amelia straightened and giggled. “Can you imagine Dad with a baby ?”
Brandy laughed. Karma had certainly kicked Richard’s ass.