Brooke
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
I close the dishwasher. Dinner is ready, and I baked Dutton his favorite lavender white chip cookies, which are cooling on the counter.
All I need now is for him to walk through that door.
I glance at the clock.
He must be running late tonight. With the change in ownership date growing closer and closer, I’m sure things at the lodge are busy.
Plus, my schedule for wedding cakes at the lodge has been jam-packed. I can only imagine the workload that is put on Dutton, Grace, Gavin, and the rest of the employees.
No one wants to be the reason a wedding has flaws.
I put the food in the oven to stay warm, and then I grab my laptop and sit at the kitchen table while I wait for Dutton.
I pull up one of the many spreadsheets I use to track work expenses, groaning as I look over the numbers.
Even if I did get that loan, I’m not so sure I could afford another large payment.
Don't get me wrong, things are going great, but I need to slow down and just pick one of the ideas I have.
Owning the storefront outright is my biggest one, and I think once I have that, everything else will follow in time.
I’ll need a decent down payment once all this fraud stuff is officially done.
Another groan slips past my lips.
I just want to bake old recipes and create new ones. I don’t want to look at the numbers and constantly wonder how to make it work.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this business thing the way I thought I was. I have a passion for only one side of it.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it quickly. Hopefully, it’s Dutton.
It’s not.
It’s just a notice from my socials that someone liked my post.
It’s the picture Wren took at the festival she was at while she was home. I’m smiling up at Dutton while he dishes up one of the strawberry tarts I made.
Work might have me tied up in knots, but this thing with Dutton doesn’t.
I’d never felt whole in any part of my life until he asked me to fake being his friend.
I laugh.
I can’t believe that’s how this whole thing started.
I would have never imagined this for my life, and now I can’t imagine anything different.
I’m in love with Dutton Richford.
Suddenly, the front door opens and Gavin stumbles in with a very drunk Dutton hanging over him.
Grace comes in behind the two of them.
“Books, baby,” Dutton slurs and flops right onto the living room couch. “I missed you,” he quietly adds.
“Um,” Gavin starts.
Grace rolls her eyes and steps in front of him. “Today was a bad day.”
“How bad?” I ask and kneel next to the couch.
“Bad enough that this guy is drunk before dinner,” Gavin says.
“I tried to get him to eat,” Grace adds.
Her gaze flickers between Dutton and me.
“Did you know?” she asks me.
“Grace,” Gavin says quietly and reaches for his sister. She shrugs him off.
“I want to know,” Grace snaps at him. “Did you know, Brooke?”
“Know what?” I ask.
“About our dad?”
Her eyes well with tears. She finally knows.
Oh god. They must both know.
My heart breaks as her first tear falls. Gavin hangs his head, his eyes looking up at me as he waits for my response.
I nod.
“Oh god,” Grace says and continues to cry.
I start to cry with her.
Dutton's eyes keep flickering closed, so with him half asleep, I move to my best friend's side.
“I’m so sorry, I should have—”
Grace launches herself at me and wraps her arms around me, holding me tighter and tighter.
“I’m so happy he has you,” she says through sobs.
“Okay now,” Gavin says, reaching for his sister again. “Let’s let Brooke breathe.”
Grace pulls back, but she keeps her eyes on me. “I can’t believe he’s had this secret for so long and he … when did he tell you?”
I try to think back to when he admitted it.
“About a week into us hanging out.”
“That makes sense.” She takes a big breath and wipes her cheeks. “He’s been happier since you two started seeing each other, and I’m sure part of it was being able to trust someone with this burden he’s been carrying around.”
“I’m—”
“I was so mean to him sometimes.” She breaks into tears again. “I’d told him so many times that he should stop being so hard on our dad, and Dutton just took it all without saying anything.”
I glance back at the man sleeping on the couch behind us. Now that it’s out in the open, I feel like I can say more.
“He really didn’t want you to have to deal with it or be hurt by it or change your relationship with your dad. He only wanted to make it go away without you ever knowing.”
“But then that reporter showed up and made everyone nervous, and now everyone knows.”
I gasp. “Even the reporter?”
“He might be the only one who doesn’t know. Dad and Dutton were yelling pretty loudly,” Gavin fills me in.
“No, Dad was yelling. Dutton was just mad, and he’s hurt because—”
“Because he had every right to be,” Gavin cuts her off with a look,
They aren’t telling me something, but who am I to pry it out of them? I kept secrets from them.
And this is their family. I don't have a place to make comments.
“Why don’t you get home?” I say and hug Grace one more time. “I’ll take care of this guy.”
I give them my best smile, all while my heart is breaking for the man I love and his family.
“Do you want help getting him to bed?”
I think it over and then shake my head.
“He looks okay where he is.”
“All right,” Gavin says, and the two of them walk out the door.
I blow out a breath and sit at the end of the coffee table near Dutton’s head. I brush a hand over his forehead and lean forward to kiss it.
“I hope you’re okay,” I whisper, fully knowing he can’t hear me.
My touch wakes him just enough to open his eyes.
They are red and glossy.
“Hi.” I smile so he knows that, despite things being a mess at work, things between us are more than great.
He studies me for a moment and then squints.
“Books.” His voice breaks.
I move to the floor and do my best to hold him in our awkward position. He starts to shake as he sobs in my arms.
“Oh, baby.” I brush a hand through his hair. “It’s going to be okay,”
I repeat this a couple more times, then kiss the top of his head as he cries. When he starts to sit up, I join him on the couch, but he lies down again.
His cheek rests against my lap, and the urge to tell him one more time that everything is going to be okay hits me.
I continue to scratch my nails over his scalp, and after a few minutes, I’m pretty sure he’s asleep.
I’ll sit here all night like this if I have to so that he can rest.
Whatever happened today was not good.
Look how much this man has been through! I just want it to go away. I want the world to see this caring and happy man who loves his family fiercely and then leave him alone to live his life.
Life would be much better if his father passed the lodge on and then left Lovers for good.
“Books,” Dutton says, startling me. I was sure he was asleep.
“What is it?” I ask, smoothing my thumb over his cheek and hoping he can feel the encouragement through the gesture.
“One of the women…” His voice breaks again. “One of the women, … aw, fuck.” He sucks in another breath and looks away.
Jesus, who could it be?
Was Mrs. Buckley really in on it? Was she one of them? Or someone from the lodge? Someone who owns one of the places he vandalized? Did he apologize to someone who was really guilty?
“One of the women he cheated on my mom with was yours.”
I can feel the pain of every word that leaves his mouth.
But the pain that explodes through every vein inside of me is worse.
My heart races as every emotion hits me at once. Anger. Sadness. Frustration. Confusion.
It all makes sense now.
Why my father hates the Richfords so much.
Why his father never cared to get to know me.
Why my father always wanted me to stay away from Dutton’s family.
Because someone he loved left him for them.
And in his eyes, I’m doing exactly that.
I’m doing what my mother did.
I fell for a Richford.
“Talk to me,” Dutton says, pulling me back to reality. “Please, Books.”
“I …”
Words fail me.
“Do you want to leave?” he asks, but I swear his eyes beg me to say no.
“No.” While I’m confused, I don’t want to make the wrong choice.
“Do you hate me?” His eyes are fluttering, and he’s about to fall asleep again.
“No,” I tell him. “This is not your fault.”
And it’s very clear he just found out, because I have never seen him like this.
“I …” The rest of my sentence fades as his eyes close and his breathing levels out.
So I whisper the words to the silent living room and pray the answer comes to me.
“I just don’t know what we will do from here.”