Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
brIAR
Chrissy has her baby in one arm, a kitten in the other.
It’s beautiful and she catches me watching her.
“You want to hold her?”
“Sure.”
But when I reach for the kitten, she shakes her head with a smile and shifts her sleeping daughter out of her arms.
“Are you sure—” I don’t get to finish the question because Mia is suddenly in my lap, her head cradled in the crease of my elbow and…
I’m in love.
The soft weight of her tiny body in my arms. The scent of baby filling my senses. The way her nose crinkles as though she knows, even in sleep, that I’m not her mama.
“She is absolutely gorgeous,” I say quietly, gently stroking a finger down her button nose.
“Mother’s bias”—Chrissy grins—“but I happen to agree with you.”
And the guilt ramps again.
Here Chrissy is with kittens—and yes, I know that I’m helping out by having agreed—sort of—to watch the fluffy babies, but I also have the feeling that she only offered because she knew I needed to do something that wasn’t just sitting in this apartment, worrying about what my future might look like.
So, kittens and arranging for dinner and being so kind and inclusive.
All of them have been making sure I’m included in the conversation.
And now she’s trusting me to hold her baby.
Dammit, I’m an asshole.
“Chrissy,” I begin.
“Uh-oh,” Rory says.
I close my eyes, exhale. “I need—”
“I know.” She reaches forward and squeezes my hand. “I remember you from the night of the fundraiser—or your eyes, anyway.”
“They really are striking,” Rory agrees. “And that hair of yours is uniquely beautiful, though the ends are tragic.”
“Rory!”
Marie types on her phone from beside me. “You know you have no hope of corralling that mouth of hers, so why do you even try?”
Chrissy scowls. “Because at some point I hope to slap some manners into her.”
“That might require an actual slap,” Marie points out.
“Rude,” Rory grumbles.
“What?” Marie shrugs. “I’m not entirely convinced that you’re trainable, but Chrissy seems determined to keep trying.”
Tiff bites her lip. “I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation considering…” Her eyes flick to me and her words trail off.
Rory bumps her shoulder against Tiff’s. “It’s okay, buttercup,” she says, borrowing Jean-Michel’s nickname for his wife.
“I’ve done the work and I know my besties would never actually try to slap some sense into me.
” Her gaze comes to mine. “The elephant in the room sweet Tiff is trying to avoid is that my ex was abusive.”
Rage coils in my belly in a sudden rush. “He what?” Someone tried to dim the beautiful spirit of this woman?
“Whoa, Tiger,” Rory says, her hand settling on my knee. “I’m okay. Truly. I’ve had a lot of therapy and I found someone”—her eyes slide to King—“who loves me and makes sure I know it.”
“I’m glad.”
“What about you?” she murmurs. “Have you had therapy?”
I rock back slightly. Is it that obvious I’m fucked up?
She squeezes my knee. “I don’t mean to be pushy—”
Marie snorts.
Rory glares but goes on. “But it’s clear you’ve been hurt and I have a killer recommendation for a therapist—”
My gaze flies to Brooks. “He didn’t—”
“He did,” Marie interjects quietly.
“Fine,” I say. “He hurt me—not physically, of course. And I know he thought he was doing it to protect me, so how can I be mad?”
“Because you’re normal?” Rory asks. “And because it seems like a lot has changed in a short amount of time and you probably don’t know how to process it?”
I nibble at the inside of my mouth.
She’s not wrong.
But I hurt him too.
Not just physically.
I stole from him, turned over incriminating information to people who don’t hesitate to dish out pain. And I know he says he’s not worried, that the stuff on there doesn’t directly involve him, just shit his dad did, I know it can’t be that simple.
They wouldn’t have wanted it so badly if it didn’t have the power to hurt him.
“We don’t have to talk about this,” Tiff says.
I smile at her, though I know it’s a facsimile of my normal one. “Thanks. I’m okay. I’m just…I guess I don’t actually know what I am.”
“Fair,” Rory says with a laugh. “I think we’ve all been there.”
“And you guys are being so nice—too nice.” I turn to Chrissy. “Especially after I crashed your event and was supposed to…”
Rory lifts her eyebrows. “To…”
My stomach starts to twist but I can’t form the words.
Chrissy touches my arm. “Pascal told me.”
“Told you what?” Rory asks, protectiveness bleeding into her tone.
Because as welcoming as these women have been to me, they’re a unit, they’ve taken the time to build trust with each other.
I’m just an outsider.
Who conspired to hurt Chrissy.
Guilt churns through me.
“I know,” Chrissy murmurs. “You don’t have to explain further.”
“You know?” I ask.
“You told Pascal. He told my dad.” A shrug. “My dad told me.”
“And me,” Tiff adds.
“I know, too,” Marie says.
“You mean…” I blink as I look around the room, as I remember all the things they said and did. They knew and they still welcomed me like—
“What. The. Hell?!”
My eyes whip toward Rory.
“You mean you all know something that I don’t know?”
Chrissy winces. “It wasn’t my story to share, Ror.”
“Except with Marie and Tiff and Jean-Michel and you.”
“Honey, I—”
“I crashed the party because they ordered me to sneak into Chrissy’s office and plant files on her computer,” I blurt.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal—I mean the sneaking in part.
I just watched for a little while and put a disguise together then pretended to be part of the serving staff. All I did was check coats.”
They stare at me.
“At least until Brooks caught up with me.”
More staring.
“And I mean, the planting the files thing is bad—really bad. I know that. But it’s not as bad as what I did to Brooks—”
“What did you do to Brooks?” Marie asks quietly.
More guilt, so much guilt that the words keep coming even though I need to just stop talking.
“I broke into his house and…” I tell them about the window and the guards and sneaking into his office, using my knowledge of the space to get into the safe.
I tell them of the struggle, of getting away with the incriminating information about his dad.
“I hurt him,” I whisper. “He still has a bit of a bruise on his temple and he was almost unconscious when I left.” My voice breaks.
“My childhood was violent and these last few years…I never thought I would be like them. That I’d get physical and hurt someone.
But in his office, I was desperate and—” I sigh.
“And I was so freaking mad thinking that he was living this great life after leaving me at the altar when I was…”
“In hell,” Marie finishes.
“He left to protect me,” I say in a hurry. “But I didn’t know that until a couple of days ago, so emotions were high and…” I groan. “It was a mess.”
Chrissy sighs. “A bit more than a mess, I think.”
“Yeah.”
Tiff squeezes my knee.
We all fall silent.
For a few moments anyway.
“That. Is. So. Cool!” Rory exclaims making baby Mia jump in my arms, though she doesn’t wake up, thankfully.
“I mean, not about the whole framing for a crime or whatever thing.” She waves a hand dismissively.
“I’m sure JM and Pascal would have cleared that right up, regardless.
But you’re a total badass, Briar. You bested Brooks and infiltrated Chrissy’s event in a disguise—”
“I got caught,” I remind her.
“Eh,” she says. “That was for the best. You’re here now and you got a sexy Brooks for your trouble.”
I force a smile, but my eyes drift across the room—right to the objectively sexy Brooks.
His eyes come to mine and my pulse starts skittering through my veins.
“Right.” Marie puts her phone away. “I think maybe that’s our cue to go.”
“No way,” Rory exclaims. “We’re finally getting to the good stuff.”
Chrissy sighs.
Tiff hides a smile.
“And now we’re getting back to Rory being impossible to train,” Marie says dryly.
I tear my eyes from Brooks and watch as Chrissy wrinkles her nose. “I know, but what can we do?” she says. “I’ve already tried positive reinforcement.”
“Seriously?” Rory snaps.
“Did I or did I not help you devour an entire bag of peanut M&Ms last week?”
“If by devour, you mean you ate most of the bag, then yes.”
A gasp of outrage. “You had at least half.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“I’m breastfeeding”—Chrissy’s chin comes up—“my body needs extra nutrition.”
“I don’t think M&Ms count as nutrition.”
“They have peanuts in them. That’s protein.”
Rory snorts. “Should we ask the Eagles’ nutritionist to weigh in on that?”
Marie looks up from her phone and winks at me. “I’m thinking they both could use some training.”
My mouth twitches and I’m about to chime in when I realize that our group has suddenly grown by one.
Pascal is standing next to Brooks.
And he looks…