Chapter 27 #2
“You won’t be able to stop her.” Bronwyn forced herself to step back. “They’ll get worse before they get better.” She went into the kitchen in search of coffee. “Please tell me you used Meredith’s coffee and not your own.”
She’d heard horror stories about Mo’s coffee.
He put a hand to his chest, clutching imaginary pearls.
“I’m hurt. But yes, I used Meredith’s coffee.
And her eighteen million creamer options are in the fridge.
I checked. There’s a mocha and a peppermint mocha.
” He went back to tapping on the computer.
“I don’t understand why she has so many creamers.
She enjoys coffee, but how does she keep them from going bad? ”
“She takes them to work.” Bronwyn selected the peppermint mocha. “They never go to waste that way.”
“Huh.” Mo’s typing continued.
“How’s your head?” she asked into what was right on the edge of becoming an awkward silence.
“Hurts like a son of a gun.” Mo yawned and looked up at her. “But I’m not seeing double, I’m not dizzy, I’m not nauseated, and I remember everything that happened yesterday.”
“Oh, well, that’s good, then.” It was good.
She was relieved. And relieved that what they’d said to each other hadn’t been a wasted conversation because she wasn’t sure she had the emotional fortitude to put herself out there again anytime soon.
“But I’m sorry your head hurts. Did you take anything? ”
“I did, but I took it on an empty stomach. That was a mistake. I need real food.”
“Does Meredith have anything in her fridge?”
“Next to nothing. She eats with Gray a lot now. But it doesn’t matter.” Mo shoved the laptop to the side and levered himself up to standing with only a small groan. “Because we’ve been invited to brunch.”
Bronwyn blinked a few times, then looked at the microwave clock. It read 9:05. She looked at it again. “Did I really sleep until nine?”
“You did.”
She’d been asking herself, not Mo. She never slept this late. Ever. It was rare for her to still be in bed at seven. Yesterday had been truly awful, but with everything that had happened, sleeping in a different bed, Mo . . . she couldn’t believe it was this late already.
“I’m a horrible nurse.”
“No you aren’t.”
“You just told me my bedside manner needs work. And I didn’t check on you even once during the night. I just . . . slept.”
“Bronwyn, so did I. I didn’t move until fifteen minutes before you did. Don’t worry about it. We needed the sleep.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “Where are we going for brunch?”
“Granny Quinn wants to see us.”
She set the coffee down.
“Why?”
“Apparently, she, Papa, and the entire family were getting blow-by-blow reports from Cal and Meredith last night.” Mo rolled his head in one direction, then the other.
“She informed me that if I was going to get shot in town, the least I could do was come see her so she could confirm with her own eyes that her prayers were working.”
That sounded like Granny Quinn.
She caught the furtive look Mo shot her way and braced herself for what was coming. “They may have mentioned that we’re talking now.”
“May have?” she asked.
“One hundred percent did. She told me she wants to see and hear it with her own eyes and ears before she dies.”
“Is she dying now?” Had she missed something?
“Not to my knowledge, nor anyone else’s. She was just being dramatic.”
“I’ll say.”
“You don’t have to go, but I do. And since I don’t want you to be alone, you . . . okay, so yeah, you do have to go. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I love Papa and Granny Quinn. If I had been lucky enough to be a grandmother, I would have wanted to be like yours.” Oh sweet mercy, had she said that out loud? What was wrong with her? Maybe Mo wouldn’t catch the implications. No. He was frowning. She was doomed.
“Given up on being a grandmother, have you?” The question was far too casual for her to believe he was as disinterested as he sounded.
She took several sips of coffee to give herself time to answer.
His response was to raise his eyebrows and hold eye contact until she broke.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve given up on it, but I have to become a mother before I get to be the cool granny.
And I’m not getting any younger. I have to find a man, date him, fall in love with him, and have him fall in love with me, get engaged, get married, and then get pregnant.
And realistically, I need to do all those things in the next five years.
So, again, I wouldn’t say it’s impossible, but the odds aren’t in my favor. ”
Mo muttered something under his breath. It sounded almost like “screw the odds,” but she wasn’t sure. Out loud, he said, “Been on any dates recently?”
Again, his delivery was so close to casual that she almost believed he didn’t care about her answer.
Maybe if she’d met him in college and they’d gone their separate ways, it would be different.
But they’d grown up together. She knew his tells.
Why did he care so much about her answer? Because, she knew, he did care.
It didn’t matter. The answer was simple. “Nope.”
“You’ve been asked out though. That guy asked you out yesterday. Or was it the day before? Whenever. The one on the walking path. Bob.”
“I’m asked out a lot by people who know nothing about me and are interested in me for what they perceive are my connections, which is laughable because I don’t have the connections they think I do.
Or they’re interested in my looks, which is flattering but shallow.
It’s not that I don’t care about my appearance or put effort into it.
” She paused and ran a hand through her hair, belatedly realizing she was giving off scarecrow vibes at the moment. “Well, normally I do.”
Mo nodded. “Of course. But, please, continue.”
“But appearance is fleeting and mostly out of our control. We can have proper hygiene, stylish haircuts, trendy clothing, and make the most of what the good Lord gave us, but that isn’t much of a reflection of who we are.
In my case, I have an image to maintain, and I guess you could argue my efforts in maintaining my image is indicative of who I am as a person, but it’s still only a tiny fragment of who I am. ”
Mo nodded in apparent agreement.
“So when someone who doesn’t know anything about me expresses their burning need to get to know me, I generally assume that it’s based only on outward things.
And it’s okay if that’s the starting point, I guess.
But I don’t have the time or energy for casual flings with people who are more interested in the exterior.
Not that my interior isn’t banged up. But that’s what makes me who I am.
That’s the part that’s truly interesting.
That’s the part that I want someone to see and know. ”
She hadn’t meant to say all of that.
Mo pinched his lips together before smiling at her with the radiance of an entire galaxy. He let out a deep, contented sigh. “I have missed you, Bronwyn. Truly missed talking to you.”
“I would think after that monologue you’d be regretting it.”
“Not a chance.” He winked at her. “Come on, then. Let’s get ready. Aunt Carol says you have to drive.”
Bronwyn frowned at that. “Why? I mean, that’s fine, but I thought you were given the all clear.”
“I was. She’s being overprotective.”
“Ah. Makes sense. That’s where Cal gets it.”
“Right?”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t been over.”
“Oh, he has been. Meredith chased him off earlier. I had four text messages when I woke up. Check your phone. You probably do too.”
Bronwyn went to Meredith’s room to grab her bag and her phone.
And when she checked the latter, she wished she hadn’t.