9. Aubrey
Iwas grateful Brodie could join us for lunch. That he was willing to drive Sylvie and me the half hour or so to Ogden, to meet Grandma. The way he reached for my hand or wrapped an arm around my waist at every opportunity should have felt presumptuous, given I’d only known him for a few days.
But that wasn’t true. I’d known him for years, despite not having a face or name to put with the personality.
Besides, the contact, the support, was comforting, and it played right into the doting fiancé part that he played. His presence, the fact that he opened doors and pulled out chairs and was always a perfect gentleman, seemed to be keeping Grandma from digging into me.
When I ordered the pasta and chicken for lunch, and Sylvie ordered the chop salad, Grandma had suggested I might want something more like what my sister was eating.
“I’m happy with my order,” I said.
She looked me over, brows raised. “I see that.”
Heat crept up over my skin, and I summoned long-in-place defenses to keep from withdrawing into myself.
Next to me, Brodie twisted in his seat to face me, and drew my attention with his palm on my cheek, so I was looking at him. “She’s trying to say you look gorgeous, Peach.” He brushed his lips over mine with such a light touch, the kiss was mostly suggestion.
The sensation still drew a light sigh and sent a shiver through me, shifting my heated skin from embarrassment and frustration to desire.
I didn’t know what to make of Sylvie’s soft grunt. When I glanced at her, she wore an impossible to read smile.
The couple more times that Grandma tossed a passive aggressive comment in my direction, Brodie silenced her with simple responses like that’s not true or even better that’s one of the things I adore about Aubrey.
We were most of the way through lunch, and I hadn’t had to bite back tears or an angry rant once, yet I got to stay sober the entire time. I’d learned long ago that my counters to Grandma’s retorts were never satisfying.
Most of the conversation had been around which family members Sylvie should invite to the wedding, and tidbits of information from Grandma about each one of them. One aunt had been promoted at the insurance company, and a cousin was heading a new cybersecurity venture in Atlanta. Someone’s spouse was in Ukraine, helping with relief efforts, and another cousin had just adopted their fourth child, making sure another neglected kid had a safe home to call their own.
I liked hearing the news. I liked the way she spoke about each of them with pride.
The way she glanced at me with a furrowed brow after each new family brag wasn’t great.
When the waiter came around to ask if we wanted dessert, Sylvie and Grandma ordered coffee. I was tempted to ask for the largest, messiest thing on their sweets menu, and eat it all.
I would have if I was hungry enough, but making myself sick out of spite wasn’t worth it.
Our plates were cleared away, and the coffee was served, and we moved on to talking about the reception.
“I want our first dance as husband and wife to be amazing,” Sylvie said. “The kind of thing that goes viral in videos. Flashy. Showy. Classic. Also, it has to be something I can easily teach him because he’s not going to have a lot of time to learn dances. He’s so busy with work.”
“So are you.” I didn’t understand why she should surrender her time when her fiancé wasn’t willing. Since she’d arrived, she’d been up by six every morning, working in my guest room, and whenever she wasn’t planning, she was doing something for work.
Sylvie gave me a sugary smile. “It’s okay. You come up with something, you show me, and I’ll teach him.”
Wait. Me? “I don’t choreograph dances.”
“You were a dancer in school.”
“Almost twenty years ago.” Why were we having this conversation?
Sylvie huffed. “But you still watch all the shows.”
“I was on the drill team. High kicks and synchronized movements and saber spinning. Do you want a saber at your reception?” The moment I asked, a dark scowl spread across Grandma’s face.
That made it tempting.
Sylvie twisted her mouth in frustration. “I just told you what I want. You’ll figure it out, and it’ll be perfect.”
“I can’t figur?—”
“As for music, we have this DJ who’s done some big weddings. Celebrity stuff.” Sylvie talked over me.
Brodie leaned in. “Aubrey said no?—”
“And he’s really good.” Sylvie kept going as if he hadn’t said a word. “Works the crowd, has a great playlist, really personable.”
Grandma rested a hand on Sylvie’s arm. “Your sister’s not up for the task.” Her tone held a heavy note of because of course she’s not. “You should ask someone else to choreograph a dance for you.”
The disdain in her voice raked over me like dressmaker’s chalk on a slick fabric, and I clenched my jaw. “No. I’ve got it. I’ll make sure Sylvie has the dance she wants.”
Sylvie grinned. “I knew you would. So the music, we have to pick a genre.”
She continued to toss out thoughts as we finished our coffee and Brodie picked up the tab for everything. As we left, he dropped Sylvie and Grandma at Grandma’s hotel.
The first few days of planning with Sylvie, I’d written everything down. Every single decision and nuance. After waking up to emailed summaries from her of all of it each following morning, I’d stopped taking my own notes.
Grandma was going to get her a room in the hotel here tonight, so they could keep planning, and I expected tomorrow morning I would wake up to a similar list based on today’s conversation.
Brodie and I headed toward the freeway. As he navigated downtown traffic, we were quiet.
How were we supposed to talk after a meal like that? We never had a problem getting into any topics online, but lunch today wasn’t the same.
“I’m trying to figure out how to put this delicately, and I can’t,” Brodie said.
After an afternoon of listening to Grandma’s disappointment in me, but also expecting far worse, the words put me on edge. “I think we’ll both be happier if you just say it.”
“Donna seems quite proud of most of her grandchildren.”
She did. She had glowing things to say about my sisters and most of my cousins.
“And I realize I don’t know any of them, except for brief encounters with Sylvie and Marianne.”
“Just say it,” I repeated. If I guessed where he was going, I’d be pissed off before he got the words out, and that would be harder to recover from.
Though, I didn’t see how this ended in anything besides someone being insulted.
“Did you exceed her expectations to the point where she couldn’t keep up? Is that what’s happening?” Brodie asked.
That was almost sweet, but my barking laugh slipped out anyway. “There’s no one here to perform for. I already gave you the job. Were you listening? My sister is an SVP. My other sister? Massively successful with her family. My cousins? The same. Scientists. Lawyers. There’s a high-ranking diplomat in there. Pretty sure one of them is up for a Nobel prize, and another will be sainted when he passes on. I’m no one. Single and barely middle class, still living in the same dinky little town I grew up in. The failure in an entire extended family of wealthy overachievers.”
Putting the thoughts into words left an empty ache in my chest, and turned my throat raw. I hadn’t meant to spit out all the things I usually kept to myself, but now he knew. Grandma didn’t like me because why should she? Everyone had to have a least favorite.
Brodie jerked the car hard, startling me and earning a long honk from behind us, as he turned right into the nearest lot. He maneuvered into a space near the back, and put the car in Park.
What the hell?
He shifted in his seat, facing me, and gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “I’m not here for anyone but you. This isn’t a job. I’m not putting on a show.” His tone was fierce and silenced my thoughts. “If I tell you something, I mean it. So when I say I don’t give a fuck about their resumes, I mean it. I don’t know what that woman’s problem is with you, but she’s wrong. You’re creative and driven. You built Pin-up Princess from the ground up, and it’s incredible. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and would do anything for the people you love. I don’t fucking care what the world thinks of them or you, because I know who you actually are.”
The passion in his voice stole my breath. What was I supposed to say to any of that? “How do you know?”
“Because even though I’ve been gone, I’ve watched Haddarville. Despite not knowing who you were, I’ve talked to you, open and unguarded for years. I remember who you were back in the day, and you’re still that sweet, kind girl, but also so much more. When I say that, I mean it.”
He brushed his lips over mine, as if punctuating the statement, and a shiver of desire spread from my mouth and through my entire body.
I opened my mouth to reply, but only got a squeak out before he claimed me with a hard kiss. He slid his hand to the back of my neck, gripping and holding me in place, while he teased my lips with licks and nibbles and intensity.
So many nights, I’d imagined what BW actually kissed like. None of those fantasies prepared me for Brodie in person. Each time he did this, it was better. There had to be a bar, right? A point where the kisses stopped being incredible?
It didn’t matter, because that point wasn’t now.
We finally broke apart, but not before he peppered my swollen lips with one more round of tiny pecks.
“I’m not going to listen to anyone hate on you, not even you.” That thread of command still rang in his voice. “Understand?”
What was going on? And why couldn’t I tell if the fluttering in my stomach was fear or desire?
The one thing I knew, the one thing I didn’t think was the right response to such an incredible moment, was that my life had slipped out of my control in the last week. What was happening?