Chapter 21
Brian
" Y ou have got to be shittin' me."
I almost winced at her tone but forced myself to stand tall, keeping a neutral expression on my face. What did I expect? That she'd grace me with her gorgeous smile and usher me inside?
Yes.
I wasn't one for nerves, but it was difficult not to squirm under Maria's withering glare. Her blue eyes narrowed into slits, and her pink-painted mouth pinched in annoyance. It was enough to shrink a lesser man's balls. Good thing that man wasn't me—although my anatomy was affected for another reason.
I met Maria's stare head-on and tried not to notice how fucking beautiful she was first thing in the morning. Tried and failed.
"Good morning." I was proud of how steady my voice sounded.
Annoyed air puffed out of her nose as she shifted her handbag from one arm to the other. "What are you doing here?"
Undeterred by her attitude, I held out the hot drinks and gave her my best charming smile. "Bringing you coffee."
Her typically expressive eyes betrayed nothing as they lowered briefly to my offering, her mouth twisting again. Instead of taking the tray, she opened her bag and fished around before producing a set of keys. My gut dropped at how dismissive she was, but I still held my ground. I hoped that if I stood around like a tool long enough, she'd take pity on me.
So far, it wasn't working.
Maria's shiny hair shimmered in the morning light and my hungry gaze roamed her features, starved for the sight of her. Her beautiful dark locks were longer, now brushing well past the smooth curve of her collarbone. She wore an off-white outfit that curved her sexy body like a glove. Short shorts with a cute bow tied in the front, a top that barely covered the smooth expanse of her lower stomach, and a long blazer that touched the bottom of her shorts. Fuck, she was a vision, and I felt like an ogre standing there in my scuffed-up work boots, ripped faded jeans, and an old rugby shirt.
Continuing to ignore my presence, Maria brushed past me and started opening the locks on her salon door.
"Maria –"
"I didn't answer any of your calls, didn't reply to any of your texts," she ground out quietly, her movements jerky and quick. "So what does that tell you?"
"That you wanted to see me in person?"
I winced as she whirled and pierced me with a glare. "You're not cute," she snapped. "I know you men think that this take-charge, I'm-Not-Gonna-Take-No-for-an-Answer act is what women want, but it's not. Especially when we've made it clear where we stand."
Shame churned my stomach, and my shoulders sagged as the impact of her words hit me. I was also a little taken aback by her fiery tone. I knew things didn't end well between us, but it didn't end badly enough to warrant such animosity. I must've really hurt her.
"Maria, I'm sorry. You're right. You made it clear you didn't want to talk to me. I just wanted to reach out and explain some things to you."
Ignoring my words, she turned back around and pushed the door open before disappearing inside. I watched it close slowly behind her, leaving me standing there like an idiot. She moved around inside, disarming the alarm and switching on lights. Again, a lesser man would've tucked tail and run, but I still stood firm, praying she would come back out to talk or tell me to go away. I'd take anything at this point.
She picked up a sandwich board before turning her back to the door, her delectable ass pressing against the glass. Quickly balancing the hot coffee, I rushed forward to hold the door open for her, although she was already half out. I felt redundant.
She gave an adorable grunt as she placed the board outside her store, just out of the way of foot traffic but in the way enough to catch a passerby's eye. Maria dusted her hands off and gave a satisfied sigh. I had no idea how she would be able to work all day and still retain the color of her outfit, but I had no doubt that she would be traipsing out of her salon at the end of the day looking and smelling fresh as a daisy.
Unlike me.
Everything about Maria was just so...feminine. Mixed in with her beauty, feistiness, and work ethic, it sent the primitive alpha male in me roaring. I wanted back in her orbit—if she'd let me.
Her eyes flared, as if surprised to see me still standing there like a schmuck. Her brow furrowed and she regarded me slowly.
"Look, Brian, I have a lot going on –"
"I can come back. Today or tomorrow or –" I stopped before I started naming the days of the week. Rein it in, dude. "Whenever you're free, I can come back."
Maria placed her hands on her hips, and I fought the urge to stare at the smooth skin of her flat stomach. Shit, was that a belly ring?
"I mean , I've got a lot going on in general," she clarified. "My life is complicated right now, and I know yours is, too." I stiffened, knowing she recalled the words I spoke to her over our last dinner. Maria shook her head, regret softening her features. "I'm sorry, I just don't have time for this."
My chest deflated, but I smiled past the disappointment. "Hey, that's okay. I understand." The words felt like glass in my throat.
Her mouth turned down briefly before her expression cleared, and her hardened mask fell back in place.
"I will take this, though." She moved to pluck one of the coffees out of the makeshift holder.
"They're both for you."
Her hand stalled on the lid, her brow pulling down in a puzzled stare. "What?"
"It's Tuesday. That means Rachel's opening up with you, right?"
Maria had previously told me—when we were dating—that she always arrived fifteen minutes earlier than everyone, even though technically she was supposed to open with another staff member. On the days Maria didn't open or close, she drilled into her team to always be in pairs for safety reasons. I remembered scolding her for taking her own safety for granted and not practicing what she preached. She’d simply shrugged and ominously disclosed she was used to doing things alone.
As Maria continued to stare at me in bewilderment, I urged the tray into her lax hands. "I don't know Rachel’s coffee order, sorry, so I just got her a latte."
Her mouth snapped shut as she stared at the tray I was attempting to offload. "Err..thanks," she slowly replied.
"You're welcome." Our fingers brushed at the exchange, and that electric spark between us sizzled. Her face flushed and I knew she felt it, too. I kept my fingers on hers. "Maria?"
Her attention flicked up, her gaze conflicted. My stare relayed everything I wished I could say to her but couldn't. I moved my fingers softly against hers. "Anytime you're ready to talk, let me know."
I released the tray before turning to walk away. As I crossed the road, I couldn't resist a glance back to catch one more glimpse of her, hoping she was staring after me like those poor souls in one of Hannah's romance movies. But, no, Maria had already retreated into her salon.
I climbed into my car and gave a defeated sigh. That did not go as planned. The arrogant male in me thought she'd see my gesture, hear my plea, and invite me in to talk. I needed to clear the air between us, to reveal a few home truths that had come to me in a moment of clarity—a moment that unfortunately involved another woman.
Seeing her today and realizing just how pissed off she was at me put a spanner in my plan, and I was at a loss at what to do next. It was stupid to think she would just roll over and let me back in, especially since she made it clear by my unanswered calls and texts just how done with me she was.
I thought back to our last conversation—that evening when I intercepted her again at her place of work. Christ, I really had a pattern here.
But that night, although not a great conversation, ended amicably in my opinion. We decided we wanted different things at that time. So why was she more aggravated with me today?
Maybe because you keep forcing your presence on her when she just wants to move on?
So, should I just give up? The thought sent a lump down my stomach, twisting it with unease.
I couldn't give up, at least not emotionally. I knew we had something special, something that could lead somewhere—if I wasn't too late. All I could do was leave her with my parting words and hope they impacted her enough for her to reach out.
The rest of my day was easy, with only two jobs to measure and provide quotes for. On one hand, I was thankful since my mind swirled with conflicting thoughts and I wouldn't be much use putting actual thought in during the day. On the other hand, my mind was filled with conflicting thoughts, so the distraction of having a full-on day would have been a welcome reprieve. Plus, it would've prevented the day from dragging on.
When I finally got home, I deviated from my usual routine of jumping straight into the shower, instead collapsing on the couch with a tired grunt. I closed my eyes for a moment, weary from the day and too lazy to even think about moving.
Before I knew it, the quiet of the house lulled me into a light snooze before startling awake when a car alarm blared. Only fifteen minutes had passed, but it felt like an hour.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, knowing I should get up and shower since I felt and smelled a little ripe. My dirty shoes hung off the end of the armrest, and my lips curled in a fond smile. If Hannah were here, she would lose her shit if she caught me lying on the couch, all filthy. I could picture her little glare and her huff of annoyance. She would clip my ankles to get my feet down, chastising me while I hightailed it for the shower.
Hannah liked things neat and clean. Everything had its place with its little label and drawer. I remembered the first time she handed me a face cloth and pointed to a clean stack of them that miraculously replenished each week. No more soap, water, and hand scrubs for me. I was more than happy to oblige her. Happy wife, happy life. Frank, her dad, imparted that to me in a moment of father-in-law bonding the night before our wedding. And we did. We had a happy life.
Once she passed, I tried to maintain the house as she would, desperate to keep even the slightest connection to her. But as the years drifted on, habits that became second nature fell to the wayside. There was no use washing and replacing face towels when they were rarely used. Soap dispensers began to grow mold when I kept forgetting to buy the liquid to fill them, preferring just to use a soap bar. And forget about keeping the toilet seat down.
Could I see myself sharing my space again, opening my heart, and making another woman happy? Maria's face swam in my vision.
Not just any woman.
After finally leaving the couch, I took a hot shower before microwaving the leftover orange chicken I had for dinner last night. I then camped out on the sofa, watching nothing in particular as I periodically checked my phone. Was it too early to hope she'd text?
Just as I debated hitting the sack early, my doorbell rang. It was only 8 PM, but it was still too late for visitors. I grumbled when I left my spot, promising that if it was a religion seller, I was gonna pop the tires on their ten-speed bike.
Instead of a twenty-year-old boy in a suit, my sister-in-law stood there holding a glass dish. I was a little stunned, even though it wasn't unusual for her to pop over unannounced.
"Sarah, hey. What are you doing here?" I wasn't sure if her presence was welcome, although I felt a little guilty seeing her. We hadn't spoken much since her outburst at dinner, although I spoke with Diane regularly.
"Do I need a reason to see my favorite brother-in-law?" She smiled brightly, but her voice held a slight edge.
Still, I gave her a teasing grin as I opened the door wider. "Favorite, huh? Didn't know there were others in the running."
She winked at me before bustling into the house. I was exhausted and definitely not up for company, but I felt bad about how she and I had left things even though she didn't seem phased. So, despite my tiredness, I closed the door and kept my welcoming smile on. Besides, it would be nice to get back the familial bond we once had.
"I made apple pie," she added over her shoulder. "It's still warm."
I perked up at that. "You know I can never resist your apple pie," I answered, my mouth already salivating at the thought. That was another thing Hannah loved to do: serving something sweet after dinner. I couldn't be bothered with any of that now.
When I met Sarah in the kitchen, I expected to see her dishing out a generous portion of delicious pie for me in a bowl. Instead, the glass dish was abandoned on the counter while she rinsed out my dinner plate.
"You can just leave that. I was gonna do that before bed." I wasn't. I planned on doing it with my breakfast dishes in the morning.
"No, I can do it," she fussed as she picked up a dishcloth and started wiping it. "Really, Brian! Hannah would pitch a fit if she saw dirty dishes in the sink. You know how she likes to get it all done straight away."
Anger and annoyance traveled up my throat, ready to come out in a biting retort. But I held it back before I said something I’d regret. Instead, I glowered at her back, feeling like a naughty twelve-year-old as I watched her wash and dry my one dish before placing it away. She then started to wipe down my benches, even though I knew they were clean.
"You know, that apple pie's probably cold by now."
She waved me off. "I'll just warm it up. You take a seat in the lounge. I'll finish cleaning up in here."
I glanced around my kitchen, noting that the coffee pot was the only thing out of place. I didn't like feeling like some messy slob in my own home, but I knew better than to argue with Sarah. Even though she was the younger sister, Sarah thrived on her bossy nature, often exasperating Hannah.
I trudged back to the couch, feeling awkward in my own home. I picked up the remote and flicked through the channels, finally landing on an action movie. If Sarah thought I already had something on to watch, then she wouldn't insist on watching that god-awful sex series.
"Here we are." Sarah breezed into the lounge carrying two small bowls of steaming pie. Mine had a generous dollop of whipped cream, just the way I liked it. My stomach grumbled in anticipation.
"Thanks, Sar." I scooped up a huge portion of pie and dipped it in the cream before shoveling it into my mouth, uncaring that it burned my tongue. I made a satisfied noise as the sweet and spicy tang of apple and cinnamon hit my taste buds. Perfect.
"Are you watching this?" Sarah already had my remote poised in her hand, ready to switch.
"Yeah, I am. Haven't seen this movie in years." If I had to endure company at eight-thirty at night, I could damn well watch what I liked, even if I had no interest in watching Predator for the hundredth time.
Sarah's mouth twisted in distaste, and I almost reminded her that it was my house and my TV. Luckily, she placed the remote back down and picked up her bowl.
We ate in a silence that I wished was companionable, but unfortunately, it wasn't—at least on my end. I could feel an undercurrent of unease and distance between us, amplified by the scrapes of our spoons in the simmering silence. The familiar jokes and reminiscing we would normally do seemed awkward to broach now. My appetite started to wane.
Sarah finally broke the silence. "So, what's new with you? I've barely spoken with you."
Even though her tone was casual, I couldn't help but think she was making a snide dig. I chalked it down to being over-sensitive to our situation and my guilt for being slack with communication.
I chewed slowly as I considered my answer. It felt odd that Sarah never mentioned her outburst or apologized for it. It sat like a giant elephant in the corner, but maybe it didn't affect her as much.
"Yeah, sorry." I flicked her an apologetic smile. "Been busy with work."
She paused her spoon in midair. "You're not too busy to go out drinking with your buddies.”
My head jerked back at the venom in her voice. I stared at Sarah in shock while she resumed eating, as if her outburst was completely normal. I grasped at what to say. "Wha-what are you talking about?"
She paused again, her mouth tightening before she lowered her spoon. "A friend of mine saw you out a few times at The Homestead."
A cold sweat went down my spine, and I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. Even my ass felt sweaty under her accusatory glare. Fuck, did her friend see me the night I was with Lissa? I’d been to The Homestead several times over the last few weeks, so her friend could've spied me on one of those other nights.
I met Sarah's gaze head-on. Her pinched mouth and shrewd eyes were narrowed in recrimination. I slowly lowered my spoon.
"Am I not allowed a social life?"
It was probably the wrong thing to say, and in any other circumstance, I wouldn't have taken offense. I most likely would’ve apologized. But given Sarah's brazen attitude since she walked through my door, making me feel like I was living in filthy conditions by throwing Hannah in my face, I didn’t feel very generous. I also didn't like that her little friend was running tales back to Sarah.
The silence between us was heavy, with neither backing down. Her face colored with some indescribable emotion and her eyes continued to view me in angry slits; nostrils flaring.
"Of course," Sarah finally relented, her voice tight. "Sorry. I just miss you, that's all."
Just as quickly, her face cleared and her eyes softened. The angry flush vanished before she gave me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Feeling contrite, I placed my bowl on the coffee table. My appetite had gone anyway. "I'm sorry, Sarah. They're work friends, so sometimes after work, I just head out with them for a drink."
I pushed her gently away from me in a teasing manner. "I miss you, too, squirt. I was planning on calling Diane for dinner." I didn't want to disclose to Sarah that I spoke with Diane nearly every day.
Her face relaxed in relief before she reached over to mock punch my arm. "You better," she groused before she resumed eating. I picked up my own bowl and forced the rest down, even though my mind was far from soothed.
By the time Sarah finally left, extracting another promise for dinner, I felt like I’d been holding onto a whirlwind of breath.
I wondered if I should bring up what happened tonight with Diane, and that I was worried about Sarah. I loved them both and didn't want to cause any more strife between us—and I certainly didn't want Sarah thinking she was a burden to me. Far from it.
Diane already apologized profusely for Sarah's behavior at dinner, even though it wasn't necessary, so I would hate to upset her again over nothing. Besides, we were all navigating our grief in our own way. I couldn't fault Sarah for her random outbursts. Christ, most would say that the way I dealt with my grief and loneliness hadn't exactly been healthy.
In the end, I decided against it. We were family and we'd figure it out with grace and patience.
As I climbed into bed and checked my phone, I acknowledged that there was a positive to Sarah's impromptu visit. It provided a welcome distraction from my thoughts straying to a certain dark-haired beauty.