Chapter 38
Evie
“Did you think I wouldn’t be here tonight?” I spit the words over my shoulder as I search the coat room, feeling Brandon’s presence just behind me.
There’s a Mount Everest-sized mound of jackets, coats, and scarves piled high on the bed.
Everything else about this New Year’s party is swanky and over-the-top, from the poshly dressed waiters serving crystal flutes of champagne to the endless stream of crab cake bite hors d’oeuvres.
You’d assume Yolanda would splurge on a simple coat rack, but no.
At this rate, I’ll be looking for my coat all night long.
“Actually, I came here tonight specifically to see you, Genevieve.” When I spare him a glance, he’s leaning against the doorway, looking way too good to be real.
Arms crossed, his dress shirt is taut against the muscles of his chest and arms. “Or did you simply forget that you’ve been ignoring my calls and texts lately? ”
“Have I?” Approaching the bed, I shove a couple of coats aside to begin my search. He watches me sort through the pile before eventually coming to help me pick up the stray coats that fall onto the floor.
“Are you mad at me?” he wonders, like the nincompoop he is.
“Nope.” There it is. I pull my coat from the mass, then shrug it on.
When I turn to leave, Brandon blocks my path.
“Evie.” I scowl at him. Gosh, he looks incredible tonight. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and tailored navy chinos. My eyes linger on his adorable Christmas tie. It has cheerful, cheeky-looking snowmen on it, and it’s so cute that I could kiss him right here, right now.
Crossing my arms, I sigh. “What do you want, Brandon?”
“You’re clearly upset with me, but I don’t understand why,” he says, his voice impassioned. “I’m not the one who came here with someone else tonight.”
“Are you serious?” I bark as my phone buzzes.
Whipping it out of my bag, I ignore Jamie’s texts and bring up the number of the local cab company I have saved on my phone.
“Cab company” is a bit of a misnomer; Blairs Ferry is too small of a town to support a genuine taxi service.
Harley is just a guy I know from high school who hauls drunk people around in his Honda Civic over the holidays.
As I go to click call, my phone disappears from my hand. I glare at my empty fingers.
“What’s going on, Evie?” Brandon asks as he pockets my phone. “In order for this to work, you can’t ice me out every time you’re upset. You need to communicate with me.”
Fuming silently, I shake my head. “What’s the point?” There is no point. Not after what I saw this evening. Not after all that we’ve been through.
All that he’s put me through.
He steps forward. I step back. “Evie . . .”
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper.
His eyes flash with hurt. “Can’t do what?”
I huff and turn away, hating that look on his face. “This. You and me.” I drag in a ragged breath. “I can’t trust you. This will never work if I can’t trust you.”
I flinch when he gently turns me to face him. “I don’t understand where this is coming from. I thought . . .” He hesitates, then sighs. “Please. Talk to me, Evie. Walk me through what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.”
I scoff. Fine. “Hm, let’s see. Could it have anything to do with the fact that I just caught you flirting with two different women?”
It’s not like I planned on pursuing a relationship with Brandon after my conversation with Jamie last week.
But to see him bounce back so quickly? I mean, why else would Brandon be here tonight?
He knows this isn’t my scene, so why else would he have come—if not to try and find someone new to hook up with?
Brandon shakes his head, exasperated. “I wasn’t flirting with anyone.”
“Oh, yeah?” I poke his sternum, recalling how quickly he started dating again after our .
. . tryst. There I was, two months pregnant with his child, confused and heartbroken because he wasn’t answering my calls or texts.
Meanwhile, he was picking up Bert’s granddaughter, Erica, for a date.
Apart from allowing myself to cry in the bathroom about it just that once, I have never let myself open that emotional can of worms. But the lid popped wide open when I saw him flirting with not one but two different women this evening.
“Then who was that busty blonde woman who was crawling all over you earlier, hm?”
His jaw moves back and forth. “My former assistant. She was drunk.”
My eyes search his, looking for hints of deception. He’s so smooth that I see none. “Did you sleep with her?”
His patience visibly thins. “I have never slept with an assistant.”
I scoff again. Does he expect me to believe that?
He steps so close that our chests brush together. “Genevieve, I love you. I won’t ever lie to you again. About anything. You are the only one I want.”
I don’t back down, even though his words melt a little bit of the ice guarding my heart. “Yeah? And what about the blonde at the bar? Alison?”
“I don’t know her from Adam, and I don’t want to know her.
” His chest heaves against mine, and I’m sick of the proximity.
His masculine scent is making it hard to think straight, much less argue.
Seething mad about the effect he has on me, I poke his chest again.
A muscle in his neck jumps. “Do that again and see what happens,” he warns, his eyes flashing with something dangerous.
I poke him again, looking for a fight.
He doesn’t react, and I do it again.
And again.
“You’re despicable,” I growl, frustrated by how calm and collected he is. I want him to be the one to argue and raise his voice and come undone for once. Not me.
I shove his shoulder.
Brandon watches me like he’s studying me. Like I’m something of intrigue—or the spiraling subject of some demented psychological experiment.
“What about that night I was out with Adam’s Bible study group?” I demand, grasping at straws.
Vexed, his brows pull together. “What about it?”
“You were there. With a woman.”
“You mean Cora?” He gives an exaggerated eye roll. “We were there discussing Teddy’s holiday schedule. I even told you about that. Evie, this is ridiculous.”
“You were going to propose to her!” I shout, clinging to my last excuse.
“What?”
“You had a ring! Jamie told me so. You lied to me!”
He’s shaking his head. “Yes, I had a ring. And yes, I was going to propose. Only because I thought it was the right thing to do. We didn’t love each other, Evie.
” He grabs my face almost roughly, his eyes anguished and desperate.
“None of that was ever a secret. So stop this. Stop looking for every excuse you can find to push me away. I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be.
I’ll never betray your trust again.” Tears pool in his eyes.
“I gave you everything,” I wail suddenly, the floodgates opening as a tear spills from his eye.
“Everything. And then you—” I gasp for breath, but it feels like someone has punctured my lungs and I can’t keep any air in them.
“You weren’t there,” I hear myself saying, recalling the bleeding, the cramping, the indescribable pain of a loss I’ll never recover from. “Where were you?”
Brandon notices I’ve stumbled off the deep end. He grabs ahold of me, slamming me against his chest. “Evie,” he groans, his voice choked as he holds me like I’m about to fall apart. “I—”
Sobbing, I cling to him as I come undone. “You weren’t there.” I know he has no idea what I’m talking about, but I pour my heart into his shirt anyway, soaking it through. “I called you. Over and over. I didn’t want anyone else to know. But you didn’t pick up . . .”
“I know.” He buries his face in my hair as he rocks me from side to side. “But I’m here now. Okay? I’m here now. I’m here.”
Nodding, I close my eyes and allow the steady thump of his heartbeat to calm me down.
Once I’ve edged away from the brink, I tip my face back to look at him, but he keeps his face buried in my hair, holding me tightly.
That still small voice that I’ve been hearing lately gently prompts me to tell him about the miscarriage.
After all, doesn’t he have a right to know? It was his baby, too.
My body trembles, aching to shed the exoskeleton that’s been restraining me like a straightjacket.
Maybe once I admit the loss out loud, I’ll be able to move freely again, to live my life unburdened by the grief I’ve cradled like an infant all these years.
But I’m scared that if I truly let go—if I finally allow myself to begin the healing process—then I’ll forget about her.
But the baby I loved and lost isn’t a memory I want to shake.
Although, that fear is ridiculous, and I know it’s just a weak, half-baked excuse to avoid reliving the experience, to run from the pain like I’m so very adept at doing. I could never, ever forget about my baby.
Faith.
Faith Catherine Montgomery.
I don’t know if the baby was a girl, really.
I was only eight weeks or so along. But I named my baby Faith because I have faith that Jesus welcomed her home with open arms even though she never made it safely into mine.
I also have faith that I’ll get to meet her and hold her close one day. Tell her I love her.
“I need to tell you something,” I confess as Brandon brushes my tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “But I don’t know how.”
“I already know,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against mine so hard it hurts. “About the baby,” he adds. My breath catches in my throat. Shocked, I attempt to pull away, but he refuses to let me go. “Jamie told me.”
I can’t believe this. How long has he known? Wiping my eyes, I hide my face in his shirt again, allowing him to cradle me like a child. “Why?” I hiccup. “I told him not to.”
“He thought I knew.” He hesitates. “I should have known.”
Guilt tears me apart. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s my own fault that I didn’t know. All of it is my fault.” He shakes beneath me, his breathing ragged. “I hate that you went through that alone.”
“I had Jamie,” I mumble as a consolation.
His chest heaves once in a lifeless laugh. “I’m sure he was a great help.”
I laugh despite everything. “He was actually very sweet and attentive.”
Brandon stiffens. “It should have been me.”
“Yes, it should have,” I agree, sighing. I rest my chin against his sternum, feeling guilty about how dreadfully I’ve treated him these past couple of weeks. “I’m sorry I’m always taking things out on you. I don’t mean to.”
“I know.” His Adam’s apple jumps as he swallows. “But I deserve it.”
I frown. There are those words again. God, why is he so hard on himself?
And you’re not?
I gasp. “Brandon—”
His attention falls to his pocket. “Your phone has been buzzing nonstop,” he says, fishing it out. He hands it over with a sheepish look. “I’m sorry for holding you hostage.”
I unlock the screen to discover several missed calls and texts from Jamie. Brandon notices. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my heart racing. Could it be Grandma? Rebecka? She’s due any day now. I swipe our text conversation open and almost drop my phone.
Jamie: Rebecka is in labor. Where are you? Can you make it to the hospital?
Jamie: She’s in transition. WHERE ARE YOU?
Jamie: HURRY UP!
I screech, holding my phone up for him to see. “Rebecka is in labor!”
His eyes widen. He fishes his keys from his pocket and nods at the door. “Let’s go.”