Chapter 46 Ready to Fly
READY TO FLY
Simone
“Brendan?”
My voice echoed through the penthouse just past seven in the evening as the elevator doors shut behind me.
Nothing answered.
My chest grew tight.
It had taken me most of the afternoon to build up the courage to come here. By the time Brendan and I had made it back to Boston in time for his board meeting, the magic of the night before had all but disappeared, swallowed by uncertainty.
And it was magical, staying up half the night in each other’s arms, reiterating over and over again with our bodies and words the thing neither of us seemed to believe completely: that we both loved each other. Would do anything for each other. Always.
It was only in the morning, when we woke to those horrible headlines, that the spell started to fracture. By the time Brendan had dropped me in Jamaica Plain, it was completely broken.
Unsure of what to do, I’d given him the things I assumed he would need for the day. A kiss on the cheek. A reminder that I loved him. And the large diamond ring that was the primary part of my costume as his fake fiancée.
After all, I didn’t need it anymore, did I?
He’d given me a strange look as he’d tucked it into his pocket but hadn’t argued.
Which meant I had no idea where we stood now. Especially since there had been no more communication since. Not even a single text.
So, I’d spent my day trying not to obsess about where Brendan was and what we were doing. I had other things to worry about. Like packing my things and ending my life in Boston.
And it was the end. I hadn’t said it out loud to anyone yet, but it was the truth.
Dad needed me.
Kylie needed me.
The farm needed me too.
The only one I wasn’t sure about was Brendan, and that wasn’t exactly a question I could ask via text. What was I supposed to write?
Thanks for the earth-shattering sex last night. I’m so in love with you it hurts. Hope you still feel the same.
Btw when you said you loved me, did that mean we’re still together even though the world knows we were faking it?
Also since you traded away your company for my family’s farm to a dead guy, what are you planning to do?
Are you coming back there with me?
What happens to us now?
It would all be very cool, I know. Which was why I didn’t send even one.
By the evening, however, I was done waiting for updates. The apartment was packed up, my utilities shut down, my lease formally broken. I was leaving tomorrow, whether a certain besuited billionaire was coming with me or not.
There was only one more thing to do.
“Brendan?” I called again as I wandered through the living room and into the kitchen he had built just for me.
There were signs he’d been here today. A suit jacket was slung over the back of the couch in the front living room.
In the kitchen, a plate bearing crumbs sat by the sink, and the smell of toasted sourdough—my sourdough, I noted along with the half loaf wrapped in a flour sack and used bread knife on the island—was still evident, if faint.
But no Brendan.
I wandered through the rest of the first floor, checking his office, the guest suites, the gym at the far end. All empty.
When I climbed the stairs to his suite on the second floor, I found his bedroom ajar. For a moment, I hesitated. Was I still welcome here? Was this even my place anymore, even if he did love me?
Had it ever been?
Inside, the room was empty, but the balcony door was wide open, the slight chill from the early summer evening billowing the curtains inward.
I peeked outside. I’d never been on the balcony, and though there was still no Brendan, I did find another set of stairs leading to a rooftop deck. Following my intuition, I climbed them.
And found a garden in the sky.
One might have even called it a nest.
“This man and his aerie,” I murmured as I looked around a rooftop garden that looked like it had been plucked from a landscape magazine.
Planters, hardy evergreens, and outdoor furniture provided some shelter from the elements in a place so high and unprotected.
The wind whipped around me, but the view made me forget it.
All of Boston twinkled below as dusk settled over the city.
And there, at the far end of the deck, I found him.
Brendan stood at the railing with a pair of binoculars, as still as any predator that might naturally track the bird he was undoubtedly watching.
He still wore his dress pants and shirt that went with the shed jacket downstairs, though the tie was loosened and the top buttons of his collar were undone.
His clothes were plastered against his body by the wind, a gray hoodie was thrown over everything for warmth, and his five o’clock shadow, barely tinged with silver, glowed in the twilight.
In that moment, I saw both the innocent boy he used to be and the ruthless man he was. The CEO and the birdwatcher. The kid from Southie and the urbane Back Bay denizen.
Every part of him was so beautiful, I could hardly breathe.
As if sensing my presence, he lowered the binoculars and turned. For a moment, we just stared at each other across the deck as the wind picked up between us. Then he raised one hand and crooked his fingers.
I went, and the moment I was close enough, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. His lips were cold from the wind, but his mouth was hot and demanding.
It was a thief of a kiss.
I gave it everything I had.
“Sometimes,” he rumbled against my lips, “I forget how much I need you until I see you again.”
Whatever I was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. “You need me?”
I didn’t think Brendan Black needed anything.
“God, yes.” He kissed me again, this time with some bite. “Like the air I breathe, angel.”
Before I could tell him I felt the same, that I’d spent all day aching for him, he turned me so my back was pressed against his chest and I was facing the same view he’d been watching.
Then he handed me the binoculars and pointed. “Look at the top of that building.”
I shivered at the sandpaper rasp of his cheek against mine and the pressure of his erection against my backside. Whatever I was feeling, I wasn’t alone.
Brendan chuckled. “Soon, baby. But right now, I want you to look. See the nest?”
I raised the binoculars, adjusting the focus until a thicket of sticks and branches came into view, built into the parapet of the tower on Old South Church. Perched at the edge were two enormous birds with white heads and dark bodies.
“Are those bald eagles?” I breathed as if my voice would disturb them from here.
“John and Abigail, according to Pyotr. I’ve been watching them since they mated two years ago. The church is pissed because they can’t legally have them removed, but I gave them an endowment to maintain the building when the eagles aren’t there.”
I smiled to myself. Yet another example of Brendan’s silent generosity. Maybe one day I could convince him to show that side to the world more often. People deserved to know what kind of man he really was.
Or maybe he just deserved the credit.
I watched the birds for a moment longer while Brendan wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck.
“They mate for life too, you know,” he murmured.
“They do?”
“It’s true.” His arms tightened around me while one hand slipped underneath my sweater to cup my breast in a way that was more proprietary than sexual, even as his thumb brushed my nipple. “But only after almost dying.”
I lowered the binoculars and turned in his arms. His hand fell back to my waist but didn’t let go.
“Tell me more.” I set the binoculars on a table next to us.
“It’s called a death spiral. When bald eagles are courting, they lock talons mid-flight and spin toward the earth.
Faster and faster, plummeting hundreds of feet.
” His full mouth quirked with secret joy, and it was all I could do not to kiss him.
“It’s only at the last possible moment that they break apart and soar back up.
But when they survive that—almost crashing together and escaping death—they know they have a bond for life.
Like they have to know how bad it might get to know they can trust each other forever. ”
We watched each other for a long moment while the wind picked up around us as if shouting its agreement. It didn’t take a genius to understand what he was implying.
We’d just gone through our own death spiral, hadn’t we? The lies, the betrayal, the kidnapping. A day ago, I’d had a gun to my head. I’d seen my death cross Brendan’s face when he’d found me.
We had locked our own talons and rocketed toward destruction.
And we’d survived.
I didn’t bother to stop the tears falling down my cheeks. And Brendan didn’t bother to wipe them away. Neither of us wanted to deny the pain of the last few days. There was something important about it, I realized. Something critical to our future.
Finally, he wrapped one arm around my shoulders, the other at my waist as he tugged me close.
“I will never let you fall that close again,” he whispered fiercely into my hair. “Never. Do you understand me? Never.”
My fingers clung to the soft fabric of his hoodie, and for the first time, I let out everything that had been swirling inside me—not just for the last days, but years.
The grief of the little girl who had lost her mother too young.
The pain of the young woman forced to care for too many people who should have cared for her too.
The heartbreak of the person whose heart had been broken, threatened, terrorized, then healed.
Brendan held me through it all.
Eventually, when my sobs had quieted to hiccups, he unwound my arms from around his neck. At first, I thought he was pulling away. It was too much. My vulnerability, the whole situation.
Maybe I’d read this all wrong. Maybe it was goodbye.
Then he sank to one knee.
“Simone?”
My voice caught in my throat. I couldn’t speak.