TWENTY-SIX
SOMETHING WAS WRONG. The niggling anxiety wasn’t exactly fear, it felt more like she’d left her phone at home or forgotten to pay a bill.
Not that she paid her own bills and, technically, she was at home.
The car journey back to the Sear house wasn’t fun as the hollow pit in her stomach just wouldn’t shift.
Come on, forget, stop thinking about him.
Shanna had a lead on Jarrod. Roxie and Zairn were in sync.
Love. Love. Love.
Nothing to do with her. Certainly nothing to do with her and Brogan. Damn, there it was, Brogan again. She thought a lot about Brogan. Often. More than she should.
If he was her real boyfriend, daydreaming about him and what might happen between them would be normal.
They were not real. A clock ticked in her ear.
This wasn’t forever. They were almost over.
Two weeks five days remained on their contract.
Oh, she shouldn’t know that. That wasn’t healthy or smart.
Before showing up at Brogan’s office with Shanna, they’d never met. Once their deal was done, there was no reason to believe they wouldn’t go back to being that: strangers.
Getting out of the car, she dragged her feet. Her father and Bram wouldn’t be home. It was Sunday, maybe they would be. Twyla was there to open the door though she hadn’t knocked.
“Miss Sear,” Twyla said.
She hazarded a smile though didn’t stop walking. “Hello. Thank you.”
“Your mom’s upstairs.”
Why did she say that? Twyla’s voice was laced with concern. Either she expected Gia to avoid her mother or go to her for support. It wouldn’t be the second.
That didn’t stop her mother popping into the hallway when Gia was just a dozen feet from her bedroom door.
“Gia,” her mother said, curious or worried? She wouldn’t put money on it. “You’re home. Are you okay? What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” she said. “I’m home. Am I not allowed to be home?”
“Yes, but you haven’t—”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
She went into her room and locked the door. Before Brogan, she rarely locked it, now she needed the barrier. Separation from her mom, the house, the world.
She hadn’t eaten but wasn’t hungry anymore. Read. She could read. On her phone? No. Doom scroll. No, her mood was melancholy enough.
When the knock came on her bedroom door, an hour or so must’ve passed. Her mom was patient, had to be with—she opened the door to her father, not her mother.
“Gianna, what happened?”
The guy was wide-eyed and too eager.
“Nothing. I’m home. This is supposed to be my home.”
“It is your home. You and Spurn done?”
“No,” she said, hanging on to her own fraying patience. “I haven’t stayed here for a while. Did I miss a rent payment?”
She didn’t pay rent and the sarcastic question visibly startled her father. Didn’t take him long to tense up.
“Who do you think you’re talking to? Is this what that man has turned you into?”
“Maybe I was like this all along.”
“And you questioned our belief he’d be a bad influence?”
Her head dropped to the side. “I thought you were okay with the relationship.”
“If you’re here, I assume it’s over. I’m your father, of course I’m angry with any man who hurts my child.”
“He didn’t hurt me and we didn’t break up.”
She stopped just short of saying she needed a break from all the fantastical sex. Roxie was rubbing off.
“If you’re fighting, you can talk to us about it. We can advise—”
“Thank you, but we’re fine. Brogan and I are fine.”
“We care about you. Your family want to support you, we can help, if you’re honest with us.”
Honest with them? She couldn’t be honest with the guy whose bed she’d been sleeping in. She couldn’t be honest with herself.
“Dad, don’t—”
“Is it another woman?”
“Another—no!” When would he have the time? “Everything’s fine.”
“Is he on his way? Are you bringing him here to defile our home again?”
So much for support.
“No,” she said. “Brogan and I are fine. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
Shutting the door, she didn’t want to hear more. Her head rattled. Desperate to shut it off, she went to turn on the shower and stripped off to step under the spray.
Gault. Her father would never come to her like he had if it wasn’t for Gault. The idea her father would console her on matters of the heart was insane. Never once had her father come to her room to console her over anything. That the Gault trip was that week was no coincidence.
It was stark. When things with Brogan did end and she was back there for good, she’d have to keep her walls up high.
The truth wouldn’t come from her. Part of the deal was that no one should know their relationship was fake even after it was finished.
To assert that was her reason for keeping it to herself would be a lie.
She didn’t want people to know because she didn’t want the world to believe, to know, that the best time in her life was nothing more than a con.
After the shower, she tried to finish her reading, nothing was going in. Brogan was still in her head when she crawled under the covers to sleep, or try to sleep.
He hadn’t called.
He’d asked her to call.
Some juvenile corner of her psyche wanted him to reach out.
She couldn’t stop thinking about her own na?veté.
Agreeing to this deal, thinking she could keep her distance…
She needed to get out more, increase her experience with men.
Roxie would help with that, if her parents allowed it.
Goddamn, she couldn’t return to the status quo.
Independence. Autonomy. She wanted to be in charge of her own life.
The phone didn’t ring. The call wasn’t coming. Did that mean he wasn’t thinking of her? She’d walked out the door and evaporated from his life in a flash.
As it approached midnight, she was still wide awake. His lack of compulsion encouraged her to surrender her own. Nothing else would work, the urge wouldn’t go away.
With a huff, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand to dial his number. Six rings, seven… ten. He’d told her every other number in his phone was set to go to voicemail. Only hers was given the maximum of twenty rings before it would switch over.
Though she’d lost count, it got damn close to that number of rings before he picked up.
“Yeah,” he grumbled into the phone.
Relief at the sound of his voice didn’t last long. That grumble meant nothing good. Apparently their argument and her abrupt departure hadn’t been playing on his mind or tormenting him as it had her.
“Did I wake you? Go back to sleep, I’ll just—”
“No,” he said and coughed, then there was some background noise like maybe he was sitting up or moving around. “I drank too much.”
Stunned to the point of speechless, she didn’t know how to process that.
He’d never said that, never done it. Brogan?
Drink to excess? No. Never. Not even at home.
She’d seen him drink alcohol plenty of times and he could hold his liquor.
Whatever amount he’d consumed had to be considerable for him to dub it “too much.”
“You’re drunk?”
“No, I didn’t say that,” he said. The way he sniffed and then cleared his throat suggested otherwise. “I’m glad you called.”
Letting herself smile, she got some validation in that. Though that flattery didn’t last. If she’d been the cause of his going overboard with the booze, that couldn’t mean anything good. Brogan’s inhibitions may be lowered, this maybe wasn’t the best time to talk.
God, she was over thinking. This was normal. Right? Everything was normal. They didn’t have to “talk,” she hadn’t walked out for—as far as she wanted him to know anyway.
Normal. Flirt. “And Julius said I’d be the one with enough alcohol in her system to give you your happy ending tonight. If I’d stayed, would I be getting mine?”
Without a doubt, she expected him to flirt back. Instead, silence.
At least thirty seconds passed before he spoke. “I’ll honor my part of the deal.”
Confused, her brow creased. “Okay… good,” she said, having expected nothing less and wondering why he’d say such a thing.
They were fine. She hadn’t left for—her father wanted her to say something was different. She didn’t understand why Brogan sounded like he thought the same thing too.
“It’s over.”
Those words landed like lead.
“What’s… I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You’re a smart girl,” he said. “We’re through. Over. You and me. Your part of the deal is done.”
Sitting up, she didn’t like the creeping cold circling her. “You’re drunk, Mister. You don’t know what you’re saying. Gault is this week—”
“Fuck Gault,” he said. “If SG can’t get the contract on their own merits then fuck Gault. You and me? We’re done.”
“You’re drunk.”
That would justify this insanity. She said it because there was nothing else to say. Confirm it. Brogan, please, confirm that you’re not thinking straight. His inebriation was her only hope to make sense of this. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t… Surely he couldn’t.
Over? Why would they suddenly be over? They’d been fine. In the kitchen, in his place, before Julius walked in. How did they go from that to… this?
“Maybe,” he said. “But if I am it’s only because I made this decision sober. I don’t want us seeing each other anymore. You can tell your family we’re done.” He grumbled, “They’ll be thrilled.”
“I don’t want to tell my family we’re done.” Though they’d rejoice. “What’s going on, Mister? Is this because we argued or because of what Julius said?”
“No! Fuck!”
“Don’t shout at me. We were fine.” Panic rose within her. “You think I left because I—”
“Stop making excuses. Fuck. I don’t want to be with you, it’s no more complicated than that!”
Taken aback by his fury, she sagged against her headboard.
“So we’re done, just like that? Because you started to feel something?
” More silence. She hadn’t meant to say it so straight, but it was the only thing that made sense.
It had been on her mind all night too. “You’re going to regret this conversation tomorrow. ”
“I won’t,” he said. “I know I won’t. This is a smart decision, an overdue one… You’re fucking expensive. Every day it’s some cause, five thousand here, ten thousand there, it starts to add up. I’ll pay for your friend—”
“We don’t want your money,” she spat, her own anger burning the tears in her eyes. “You want to void the deal, void it. We don’t want your charity.”
“Fuck it then,” he said. “You’re on your own.”
“Fine.”
“Great.”
A tense silence hung between them for a score of seconds.
“Goodbye, Brogan Spurn.”
“Goodbye.”
He hung up. Beep. Beep. Beep. The phone signaled he’d gone. Only then did she let the device slide to her lap. He’d ended it. Broken up with her. Voided their deal.
In all her messed up thinking, she hadn’t thought he’d—she’d told her dad they were fine. She’d shrugged him off and asserted something she’d have to walk back tomorrow. Brogan had ended it. It was unreal.
She wasn’t blameless. No, this was her fault. Leaving his place the way she had…the reality of her own dramatic stupidity wouldn’t sink in.
Brogan, the man who’d occupied her life almost every minute for over a month, was in her life no more. It was done. Just like that. Gone.
Was it wounded pride? She’d left him there in a hurry.
Maybe he was mad that happy ending was off the table.
Brogan wasn’t like that. No. She cursed herself for picking up the phone.
She could have gone to sleep oblivious… if she’d managed to sleep.
The call would’ve happened eventually, and it was probably better to cut ties on the phone.
In person, they might’ve said more. She might’ve embarrassed herself.
If this was the truth of how he felt, it was better to know that sooner rather than later. Putting off the inevitable wouldn’t make it go away.
They’d argued plenty of times before. Usually they ended up jumping each other or storming away to cool off. Neither of them had even hinted at ending their agreement prematurely.
Until right then.
It was over. In that minute, and through the rest of her sleepless night, she’d have to fight to remember who she’d been before Brogan came into her life.
It didn’t matter how hard she tried, everything she recalled from her life before him paled in comparison to what it had been when she had him.
She’d have to be that person again. Go back to that isolating, restrictive life.
No. No. It couldn’t be. Over? No.
He’d been drinking. Alcohol skewed a person’s thinking. She couldn’t believe this was set in stone, that he really wanted them to be done. No, she needed to hear it, he had to say it, in the light of day. He’d call tomorrow. They’d both backtrack and they’d be back on.
Right?
This couldn’t be final.
Forever? Never seeing him again? Never speaking to him? Unthinkable.
What if it was true that he didn’t want her? That they were through. This would be her new reality, whether she liked it or not.