23. Aubrey
“Get the fuck out.” The loud shouting jarred me from my sleep, and I shot straight up in bed, my heart slamming against my chest. Where?—?
My room. I was in my room. The clock said it was two in the morning.
“Sylvie, listen to me.”
Who was that? Peter, right?
A hand rested on my thigh and Brodie and Clint sat up on either side of me. “What the fuck?” Clint muttered.
The three of us had fallen asleep cuddling. This was one of the last things I expected us to wake up to.
“I’m tired of listening. Get out.” Sylvie’s voice was loud enough that the neighbor probably heard it.
What was going on out there?
Clint was already on his feet, grabbing my shirt and capris and tossing them at me, then pulling on his pants. Brodie dressed quickly too.
“Fucking bitch, I’m trying to explain.”
Fury raced through my veins at the sound of Peter calling my sister names, and I barely finished pulling on my clothes as I stormed out of my bedroom.
Sure enough, the unhappy couple was standing in my living room, both wearing looks of fury.
Peter’s voice softened when he saw us. “I was just?—”
Brodie angled himself so he was between Peter and Sylvie.
Clint grabbed Peter by the arm. “You heard her. Get the fuck out.” He used his full body to shoulder Peter toward the exit, and had him on the landing, the door closed behind him, before Peter could open his mouth.
Peter hammered on the other side of the door with his fist. “Sylvie, talk to me,” he shouted.
I looked at my sister, and she crossed her arms. Her jaw was clenched and her face pinched.
The pounding stopped, leaving a ringing in my ears. “What was that?”
“I got tired of his shit,” Sylvie said.
Kind of a shitty time for that, but at least it happened? I didn’t believe it was over. Why did everything go quiet?
There was another knock, but this one was not so intense. “Aubrey?”
That was Rohde. I forced my feet to move one in front of the other, and peered through the peephole.
Sure enough, our uniformed friend was out there. Alone. I opened the door cautiously.
“He’s gone,” Rohde said. “Bryan called us when the noise started, and the other on-call deputy is hauling him down to a cell.”
Bryan was Brooke’s son, and had rented the apartment next door after Adam and Deacon moved in with Brooke. “Peter went willingly?” I was surprised.
Rohde nodded. “Shut right up when he saw us.” He looked past me to Sylvie. “Guys like that will only be compliant for so long.”
She huffed and her scowl deepened.
Rohde nodded at Clint and Brodie. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Clint’s tone was clipped.
Brodie gave a terse nod in return.
“Are you good? Do you need anything?” Rohde gave me his attention again.
I was surprised that whole thing didn’t give me a heart attack, and it didn’t help that it had ended as quickly as it started. “I’m good. Thank you for showing up so fast.”
“Any time. Call us if you need us.” Rohde gave us all a wave, and was walking away as I closed the door behind him.
I leaned back and willed my heart to slow, as I stared at Sylvie. It was tempting to toss accusations at her. To ask what the fuck. To simply say why are you with that asshole? Because I suspected that wasn’t the last of Peter. None of those would help, and as much as I wasn’t in the mood to be the bigger person, I was going to do it anyway. “Are you okay?”
“So if that one’s your fiancé”—she pointed at Brodie—“who’s that one?” She looked at Clint.
Seriously? That was her response? “Did you just ask me that? You woke me up at two in the morning, screaming at some dickwad you thought it was a good idea to marry, and quit your job for, and you’re going to ask me that.”
I couldn’t take the words back, and I didn’t want to.
“No.” Sylvie’s voice was instantly meek, and she seemed to withdraw on herself. “I’m sorry.”
The damage was done, and I wasn’t in the mood for this tonight. I turned on my toe without another word, and walked into my bedroom to grab my phone. I called the motel down the street, which I had the number for because Elaina worked there.
She answered—that was something to be grateful for. “Tell me you have a vacancy,” I said.
“Hey. I do. Rohde said he was just there. Are you all right?”
And Rohde saw me with Clint and Brodie. And Rohde was the biggest gossip…
I’d deal with that if it became a bigger problem than the ache growing behind my eyes. I walked into the living room again as I talked. “Sylvie’s coming to stay in that empty room.”
“Aubrey, please?—”
“Right now.” I cut Sylvie off.
“I’ll have a key waiting for her,” Elaina said. “You sure you’re all right?”
No. I had no idea what the fuck was going on with my sister, and that meant I didn’t know if I was being the biggest bitch ever, or if this was the right kind of tough love. “I’m not sure.”
“Okay. I’ll see Sylvie soon.” Elaina hung up.
Sylvie fixed me with a sad look, and I couldn’t ignore the unshed tears in her eyes. She turned and headed into the guest room.
“I’ll drive her, so she gets there safely.” Brodie brushed his fingers over my cheek.
The motel was only a few blocks away, but that sounded like a good idea. I didn’t want him to go, but the night was over at this point. “Thank you.”
He headed into my room, I assumed to get the rest of his clothes, and Sylvie emerged before he did, rolling her suitcase with her.
“I didn’t mean…” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
I pulled her into a hug. “Go sleep in the motel. Don’t talk to Peter. We’ll catch up tomorrow when we’ve both had a chance to cool down.”
Sylvie sniffled.
When they were gone, Clint rested his hands on my hips. “Do you want me to stay here tonight?”
I shook my head. “Yes, but no. Thank you for helping her.”
“Of course.” He kissed the top of my head, and he was on his way too.
What was I going to do about my sister?
Brodie texted me a short while after he left to say Sylvie was safe in her motel room, and that Elaina promised to keep an eye out, since she was working the overnight shift.
I was too worried about Sylvie to sleep much, and I was grateful when morning arrived and I could stop trying.
Clint messaged me while I was making coffee—he had a knack for that—to make sure I was all right.
Me: As well as can be expected.
Clint: Then I hope your day only gets better.
The sentiment filled me with warm fuzzies.
Clint: I’m running around most of today, making plans for Dee to come home. I’m a text away if you need.
Wait. What? Instead of replying, I committed a cardinal sin and called him back. On the phone.
“Hey,” Clint answered quickly.
“Dee’s coming home?” Picked up the conversation where we left off. I was happy rather than upset that she’d be here more, but I was concerned that Regina was letting it happen. What was that woman up to?
Clint huffed a laugh. “That was why I called you last night. Regina is taking a job in San Francisco and leaving Dee here.”
“And you let us talk about feelings and fucking, and just neglected to mention that bit?”
He sighed. “It’s happening regardless and last night… It was good to know I have you both around. I’m worried about how Dee is taking the news, I’m happy she’ll be here full time. I’m conflicted, yanno?”
That made perfect sense. “I get it.” All of it. “If you need anything. If she does…”
“I know where to find you, and that you’re always there for her. That means more than I can say. Be safe today. Take care of Sylvie. Call me, Brodie, anyone if Peter comes back.” Clint paused. “Maybe not Travis.”
I laughed so I wouldn’t have to dwell on the fact that my sister was engaged—had been engaged?—to a narcissistic asshole. “Should probably make sure the two never meet. He and Travis would hit it off.”
“Ugh.” Clint grunted the sound.
Inspiration struck. “You know those gorgeous pointed-toe pumps I picked up a few months ago at that estate sale?”
“The ones you have on display in the window with the ornate iron work on the toes?”
I grinned like a madwoman at my empty kitchen. “Do you think I could work in those?”
“I wouldn’t, but I care about how my feet feel at the end of the day. Why?”
“It just seems like they’d be great for, oh, kicking someone in the balls. They might even do long term damage.”
Clint chuckled. “You’re fucking brutal. I love it. But he’s not worth hurting yourself over.”
I would argue otherwise. “He hurt my baby sister.”
“Maybe keep them nearby, and easy to change into if the occasion arises.” Clint was a real friend.
“You always steer me right.” As we said goodbyes and hung up, I couldn’t ignore the thought that Clint was more than a friend, and had been for a while. And I liked that feeling.
I finished getting ready for the day, including a pair of ballet flats that were easily replaced with more threatening footwear if needed, and headed down to my store shortly before opening time.
I was straightening displays and making little tweaks, while my opening girl prepared the register, when someone knocked on the glass. The sound startled me, and my mind wanted to go to negative places, but it was Rohde.
I let him in and locked the door behind him. He tugged me to the edge of the main floor, away from the employee. Not that anything we said up here would be private.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Thought you should know we had to let Peter out this morning, but we were specific about making sure he left town.”
The phrase struck me as amusing, even though there was nothing funny about it. “As in, y’all better git, pardner,” I said in a horrible old west accent.
“Exactly like that.”
I appreciated him letting me know, and this was the perfect chance to have a different conversation with him. “About what you saw last night…” Did I care if the entire town was talking about Clint and Brodie and me?
No. They were going to talk about whatever the fuck they wanted, but it might matter for one of them, or Dee.
“What did I see?” Rohde raised his eyebrows.
How to phrase this? “All the people in my apartment.” I kept my voice as quiet as possible. “I was hoping that could stay between us.”
“I know you think I live and die by the gossip, but only when it’s good and juicy and won’t hurt my friends. Besides, a year or two ago it was salacious when…” He glanced back at the register, and I almost heard him thinking when three people were all hooking up. “But now? Some of us are feeling like outcasts, being single twice over.” His wink added to the light, teasing tone.
I grinned. “You’re the best.”
“Damn straight I am. Speaking of, I don’t suppose this is your way of telling me you have two friends to hook me up with.”
“Well…” As far as I knew, Rohde had no interest in men.
“Female friends.”
Yup. “Alys and Evie are taken.” I shared the list out loud. “Sylvie should probably not be taken for a while.”
“I swear to God, if you say Elaina…”
I wrinkled my nose. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind for even an instant. “Dude, she’s your sister.”
“And I am not Luke Skywalker.”
Freaking Star Wars geeks. No one was perfect. “That leaves Ravyn.”
“Yeah, no. I swear we get a call to her house at least twice a week for a cat in a tree or a stray on the property. I cannot wrap my head around— I don’t want to talk shit about your friends, so I’ll leave it at no thanks.”
I shrugged. “Guess you have to find your own dates then.”
“Or find friends with more single friends.”
I laughed. “Good luck with that. We’ll be old soon.”
“Speak for yourself.”
I let Rohde out, and opened the store at the same time.
Business was usually slow unless I had an appointment, and it left time for my mind to wander. I was worried about Sylvie. If I brought her breakfast and coffee, it was unlikely she’d talk to me. Nothing had motivated her to open up yet.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve kindness. I just wished I knew how to help her.
My phone chimed, and her name was on the new text.
Sylvie: Please just play along.
What the…?
Before I could reply and ask for clarification, Sylvie walked in the front door with Grandma.
Well fuck me.
“We’re here to find a different dress for Sylvie,” Grandma said to me. “Something more appropriate for her special day.”
Was she still going through with it? After last night? Sure, some break-ups didn’t take, but… I warred with myself over asking outright and doing as Sylvie had asked. I gave her a look.
The pleading in her eyes was unmistakable.
I would be there for her as much as I could, but I wasn’t going to pretend there was a wedding happening if there wasn’t. Especially a wedding I didn’t want to happen. “Do you want to add anything, Sylvie? Anything Grandma needs to know before we pull apart my entire formal selection again?”
“No. Grandma had me covered.” Sylvie stared at her shoes while she talked.
This was not my sister. The assertive, successful woman who had climbed the corporate ladder at a young age. I didn’t know this girl. I clenched my jaw and my nostrils flared.
“Please,” Sylvie whispered so softly I barely heard her.
I’m sorry, sis.“No. I’m done.”
“Done with what? What are you talking about?” Grandma’s voice was filled with frustration. “Go get the dresses, or we’ll go to a real store.”
Was she serious? I would do whatever I could for Sylvie if I thought it would help her, but I didn’t sign up for this bullshit. “This is a real store.” I pointed at the displays. “We have a product.” I grabbed a nearby price tag. “I charge money for it.” I jabbed a thumb toward the register. “People pay me. People work for me.”
Speaking of, the poor girl working the counter. I glanced at her. “Do you want to take a bonus break? ”
She nodded, looking grateful, and scurried out the front door without another word.
“That’s cute,” Grandma said. “You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I don’t. And while I don’t owe you any justification for myself or my business, you seem to think you’re entitled to it. I spent yesterday with a woman from L.A. Someone who was on the cover of Elle earlier this year, and who will be wearing an assortment of my custom fitted vintage clothing to her next red-carpet premiere.”
Grandma opened her mouth.
I wasn’t done. “And that isn’t a one-off incident. You think I earn a living having a shop full of antique clothing that women who will be you one day come in and paw at, then turn their noses up at as they leave?”
“I—”
“So is this a real store?” I was on a roll, and she didn’t get to talk until I was done. “Yes. I own a real fucking business, and why you refuse to acknowledge that, why you seem to have a big ol’ sand brick in your vagina when it comes to me, is beyond me, but fuck your opinion. And while we’re on the subject of dresses Sylvie doesn’t need one for her wedding, because her fiancé is a narcissistic, manipulative asshole, and she dumped him at two am in a screaming match in my apartment.”
Grandma’s eyes had narrowed to slits.
Sylvie stared at me with wide-eyed shock. “No. Peter and I had a fight. That’s all. Every couple fights.”
“The police had to remove him from my property,” I said. “You told Peter in front of me and the neighbor and everyone within shouting distance that you two were fucking done.”
“Language.” Grandma finally got a world in. “What is wrong with you?”
Did she really ask that? Of course she did. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. What’s wrong with you, you judgmental?—”
“We should have made an appointment.” Sylvie talked over me. “We’ll come back.”
“No, you won’t. Not for this.” I wouldn’t push Sylvie away. “I’m always here for you, but you can’t ignore that something is wrong with him.” It wasn’t my right to tell my sister who she could love, any more than it was anyone else’s right to tell me I should be with Clint or Brodie. Or both. But the two of them were good people, and Peter was not.
Grandma turned away from me. Not unusual. This was her Aubrey isn’t worth talking to stance. “Whatever happened, you can forgive him. Give him a call, and make things right.”
I stared in disbelief. Did she really just say…? The woman who owned an insurance company empire? The head of our fucking family?
Sylvie reached for her phone.
“Do. Not.” I bit off the words. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Donna Lantrey, that you think Sylvie needs a man to make her happy? That you think any woman does? Sylvie was in a good job before this. She gave up a lucrative career for this asshole.”
Sylvie winced. “I…”
There was more to her story, but unless she shared it, I had to go on what I’d heard and seen. “Sylvie doesn’t need to get married to be whole,” I said. “I don’t need to find love to be whole. I’m doing so well on my own, and so was Sylvie.”
“I don’t know why you think you can talk to me like this. Stop, now.” Grandma’s posture was rigid and her jaw was set.
She’d stopped listening to me. But that implied she had ever started.
“Or what?” I asked. “If I don’t stop, you’ll disown me? Cut me off from the family money? Talk bad about me, or just pretend I don’t exist with the rest of the family?”
“I’m your family. You owe me respect.”
Oh, I so did not. “You’re my detractor. I want to love you. I want most everyone to live how they want and I hope it makes them happy. For some reason you want to judge the fucking world, and you put me at the front of the line. Threaten me with something that matters or get the fuck out of my store.”
Grandma scowled. “We’re done. Sylvie, let’s go call…” She trailed off with a frown and fixed her glare on me.
Sylvie shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re talking like that to Grandma.”
“I can’t believe you’re considering calling him for even a moment.” Was I in Mirror Mirror world?
“Maybe if you understood why, you wouldn’t be?—”
“Go ahead. Finish the thought, Sylvie,” I said.
Sylvie fell into step with Grandma. “Let’s go, Grandma.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I was distracted the rest of the day. Worrying about Sylvie. Worrying about Peter coming back. Did I push her away? Did I make things worse?
I got a series of texts from Sylvie that evening.
Sylvie: I didn’t call Peter back.
Sylvie: Grandma is furious at you.
Sylvie: I’m staying at the motel.
Sylvie: Thank you.
Despite the terse notes, I felt better about her than I had in days, but I wasn’t naive enough to believe this was a solution.