Chapter 18 Bree
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I winced and tried to maintain a pleasant expression as I walked through the grocery store doors and the scent of overripe bananas assaulted my senses.
Taking a cart from alongside the wall, I headed for the produce section, my list crumpled in one hand.
Two months in Clover Hill and I’d finally accepted that living above a pub didn’t mean I had to eat pub food every single meal.
My apartment fridge practically begged for actual groceries, preferably vegetables that were not fried and fruits that didn’t come as a garnish on a cocktail.
Adult things.
I picked through the apples, looking for the best ones without any bruises. A kid toward the back screamed bloody murder, his unintelligible noise breaking into coherence long enough for me to understand the word cookie.
I get it, kid. I get it. Secretly dating three of Clover Hill’s finest wasn’t my best moment either, but I sure as hell made the most of it. Their presence became my drug, and I’d give anything to spend every night with them.
“Bree Sullivan? Oh my god, is that really you?”
I turned. A blonde woman about my age stood behind me, her cart half-full. It took a second to place the shorter hair and a full face with laugh lines around her eyes. “Jenny Martinez? Holy shit.”
“For real.” She laughed and pulled me into a hug. “Jenny Morrison now.” Grinning, she flashed an engagement ring and wedding band set in my face. “Got married right out of high school.”
Of course she did. That’s what most people did here. They found their person and settled in.
“Congratulations. Marriage suits you.” I meant it. She looked happy. A bit tired, maybe, but happy.
“Thanks. We have three kids now. Can you believe it?” She gestured to her cart loaded with juice boxes and goldfish crackers. “What about you? Married? Kids?”
“God no.” I chuckled to avoid the heat of embarrassment and tried to recover when her eyebrows shot up. “No. I love kids, but I’m not ready yet. I mean, I’m running the pub. Not exactly the kind of place to raise a kid.”
I’d been raised there, but I’d also heard most the town talk about how awful it was that my mother raised me there, so I hedged my bets with Jenny.
Her expression shifted from shock to understanding. “Right. I heard about Maeve. I’m so sorry. She was something.”
“Yeah, she was.”
“But it’s great that you’re here. We need fresh energy.” She grabbed a bag of apples without looking at them. “You should come to our book club. We meet at the library every other Thursday.”
Book club. Wow. Women my age who had husbands, kids, mortgages and hadn’t been secretly sleeping with three men old enough to be their father.
“I’ll think about it.” I added apples to my cart. “The pub keeps me pretty busy.”
“I bet. If you decide to come, text me.” She rattled off her phone number, and I added her to my contacts. “It’s good to have you back, Bree.” A quick squeeze of my arm, and she wheeled away down the cereal aisle.
Jenny had a real life with responsibilities and a book club.
What did I have? A pub I might not keep. Three men I had to hide, and a future that stretched out in an uncertain and terrifying path.
I shook off the thought and finished my shopping. Milk, eggs, bread, all basic necessities that belonged in any kitchen.
By the time I made it back to the pub, unpacked my groceries and put them away, the lunch rush had started downstairs.
I hurried down to help and Tammy waved at me from her usual stool.
“Afternoon, dear.” She patted the bar top.
“Pour me one of those fancy coffees with the Bailey’s. I’ve earned it.”
“Rough morning?” I grabbed a mug and started the pour.
“Doctor’s appointment. They poked and prodded and told me I’m old.” She snorted. “Could have told them that myself. Not sure why they have to bill my insurance for telling me shit I already know.”
“You’re not old. You’re seasoned.” I slid the cup across to her.
“Seasoned like a good steak.” She cackled and took a sip. “Speaking of good things, how are you settling in?”
“Fine. I ran into Jenny Morrison at the grocery store. She invited me to her book club.” I left it at that. Telling Tammy anything real about my private life was absolutely out of the question.
“Sweet girl. Married young. Has three kids already. Can you imagine?” Her eyes gleamed with the burst of potential gossip.
I mimed zipping my lips, which caused Tammy to snort into her cup.
The door opened, and a group of women filtered in. The lunchtime crowd often came looking for fried pickles and gossip. I recognized a few faces, Bethany Clearwater among them. Her perfectly styled blonde hair sans sharp-as-glass smile made my stomach turn.
They claimed a table near the window, and I tried to ignore them by focusing on pouring drinks and taking orders from other customers.
Ronan walked out from the back room carrying rolled-up blueprints. He spread them across the table and gestured for me to join him. “Got the final designs made for the back patio.” He smoothed out the paper. “What do you think?”
I crossed to him, fighting the grateful smile that would give me away to anyone looking. “Walk me through it.”
He pointed to the corner. “We can put a firepit here and make it usable year-around.” His warm, solid shoulder pressed into mine and I almost swallowed my tongue when his forearm grazed mine.
A burst of laughter came from Bethany’s table, the sound high and pointed.
I glanced over, knowing I shouldn’t give her the time of day but unable to resist the urge.
Bethany whispered into her neighbor’s ear, the two of them looking in my direction.
My skin prickled.
“What do you think about adding heaters?” Ronan’s question pulled my attention away from the horrible women and back to something I loved.
“That would be great. It’ll extend the season.” I traced the outline of the patio with one finger. “How much would it add to the budget?”
He rattled off the numbers, but I only half listened.
My brain locked onto the women behind us.
“...some women with too much ass shouldn’t try being seductive. They just come off as desperate.”
The words carried across the quiet pub, not loud enough for everyone to hear but directed at me.
I froze.
Ronan kept talking, his voice soothing but not enough to quell the violent lurch of nausea that rose in my throat.
They had to be talking about me.I’d leaned across the table without thinking, the same way I always did when talking to Ronan. I straightened and almost reached for the hem of my shirt to make sure it hadn’t clung to my stomach.
Stop it.
Can’t.
I tried to refocus on Ronan, but another comment drifted over.
“Such a terrible flirt. Does she even realize how obvious she is?”
My pulse kicked up. Definitely talking about a person. A woman. I remembered every face in the room, and except for Bethany’s group, Tammy and I were the only other women in the put.
“What, is one man not good enough for her? First she’s all over Finn, and now she can’t leave Ronan alone.”
My vision tunneled. Did they know? Had they seen something? Said something?
My breathing sharpened to short, shallow bursts. The pub closed in around me, too hot, too small.
“Bree?” Ronan’s voice came from far away. “You okay?”
Not even.
I shook my head. “I need…” I turned, not waiting for his response. Without a word or a look at anyone, I walked up the stairs and into my apartment. My heart beat in my throat, and my hands shook so hard I barely managed to close the door without slamming it.
They knew. Or they suspected. Or they were being catty bitches who liked to tear down other women.
It didn’t matter. The result was the same.
I slid down until I sat on the floor, pulling my knees as close to my chest as I could.
This was what Mom warned me about. The suffocating weight of small-town judgment threatened me in a way nothing else ever had.
I’d been so careful, so fucking careful.
I didn’t touch the guys in public. I never looked at them too long. We kept everything behind closed doors.
Somehow, they knew.
Or I was being paranoid and they were talking out their asses hoping for a response, which I just gave them.
A groan worked its way out of my throat, and I knocked my head against the wall. Stupid overreaction.
I jumped when a knock rattled the door. “Bree? Can I come in?”
No. I should tell him no. I wiped my face even though I hadn’t been crying. “Yeah.”
The door pushed against my back, and I scooted around to let him in.
Ronan stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “What happened?” Gray eyes looked me over, then narrowed.
“Nothing. I just…needed some air.”
“So you came upstairs to a closed up room with dying plants?” He crossed his arms. “Try again.”
“It’s not my fault the plants are dying. You promised to take care of them.” I wanted him to take care of me. I shouldn’t, but I needed it.
Ronan, careful, precise Ronan, slid down the wall to sit beside me. He scooped me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me. No words. Nothing more than his presence and a solid grip that held me together.
I pressed my face into his chest and breathed in the scent of sawdust and soap. This. This was what I’d risked everything for, what I’d been hiding.