Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
T he Crane Hotel ballroom was modern and classy, with clean lines and glass tables, the color palette stark white and minimalist black. She and Brody arrived early and settled at the bar. She ordered a club soda instead of champagne to settle her nervous stomach.
Dante, dressed sharply in a tux, meandered over. He was a split between his brothers, with a mysterious twinkle in his eye similar to Brody but carrying a regal air like Zander. Dante was far less intimidating than when she’d first met him, either because he’d dropped his guard, or because he was in his element tonight.
“Thank you for coming.” Dante lifted and kissed her hand. “Hard to believe you have tolerated Brody for this long.”
“You remember my brother, double-oh-seven,” Brody said into her ear.
“He’s just jealous because he’ll never be suave.” Dante smirked. “Have your heart set on anything in the silent auction?”
“Oh, uh…” Both sides of the massive ballroom were lined with tables and walls adorned with donations. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Make sure this one buys you something nice.”
“Hi, guys!” Jaylyn interrupted, giving Dante a quick side hug. “Reagan, what a beautiful gown.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that club soda?” Jaylyn wrinkled her nose. “You’re not sick or pregnant, are you?”
“Jesus, J,” Brody snapped.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Reagan was suddenly feeling hot. She didn’t know if it was the heavy dress or the fatigue, but the ballroom walls seemed to close in on her like the trash compactor in Star Wars . “I’m going to find a restroom.”
“I’ll come with you.” Jaylyn followed as Reagan stepped away from the bar. “I was trying to give Brody a hard time, not insult you with my dumb joke. Sorry.”
“It’s not you.” Reagan knew the youngest Crane hadn’t meant to be offensive. “I met Keaton Killdeer and Alexis Calvin today and I’m feeling…I’m not sure. Out of place, I guess.”
“Understandable. Alexis Calvin is horrid.”
Reagan offered a small smile of agreement. “I’ll just be a minute. Meet you back here?”
“You’re sure?” Jaylyn asked.
“Totally sure.”
“Okay, I’ll be here.”
Outside the ballroom, Reagan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no reason to be intimidated or nervous. She was Brody’s date. She belonged here as much as anyone else. And she wasn’t pregnant, she reminded herself, since her brain was having a heyday with that suggestion.
A blond woman wearing a floor-length white strapless gown sashayed by on the arm of a man. He had longer dark blond hair and a not-from-around-here swagger. The other woman paused, looked Reagan squarely in the eye, and said, “What an exquisite gown.”
“Oh, thank you,” Reagan said.
“Are you a Crane?”
“No.”
“Here with one?” The woman’s unwavering eye contact bespoke confidence and grace.
“Brody Crane.”
“I can’t wait to meet him!” she exclaimed, gripping her clutch in both hands. A stunner of a diamond ring twinkled on her left hand. “When Merina told me there were more Cranes than the Chicago trio, I called her a liar. She swore she was telling the truth, so here I am. Merina, Reese, and I go way back.”
“Take a breath, gorgeous,” the man next to her drawled. His smile was patient.
“Sorry. I’m Penelope Ferguson. This is my husband, Zach.”
“Reagan.”
“Hi, Reagan.” Zach’s smile popped one of his dimples.
“So, you’re here with Brody…” Penelope started.
“Pen,” her husband interrupted. “Let the poor girl get to where she was going.”
“You’re no fun.” Pen swatted him with her clutch, then winked at Reagan. “I’ll see you in there.”
Once Penelope and Zach stepped into the ballroom, Reagan scuttled to the restroom for a moment of peace. She was incredibly grateful that the stall door went all the way to the floor and that there was a sink and mirror inside. In the whitewashed stall, she faced her reflection and took a few slow, steady breaths. What the hell was wrong with her? What was underlying the sudden lack of confidence? Was it merely discomfort? Lack of sleep? Worry about Ike?
Then Zach’s words echoed in her mind.
“Poor girl,” she said aloud. There hadn’t been any cruelty or pity in his tone. It was likely a commonplace phrase he’d grown up hearing. But it was a summation of how she’d been feeling lately.
Reagan hadn’t grown up with money. Far from it. Her mother had never owned much of anything, let alone expensive dresses or fancy shoes. Ronnie’s social life consisted of bars and casinos, so her closet had been filled with loud, colorful prints. Even so, once Reagan had been adopted by her grandparents, she’d never wanted for anything. Her grandparents had limited income, and they hadn’t received any financial help from Ronnie whatsoever. Reagan had understood why money had been tight.
Ike and Betty had taught her that work was its own reward, and money a necessity. Reagan grew up proud of the life she’d made for herself. She took pride in her vocation.
When she’d moved from her grandfather’s house into Dustin’s massive home, she’d noticed the gap between who she was and who she was with him . Which brought her to Brody.
She’d stepped into his world, which had majorly upset her equilibrium. After the shopping excursion for two very expensive dresses, she’d quietly wondered if he’d found her lacking. It was like he’d been dressing her up and showing her off for his benefit. Or maybe for everyone else’s…
“That’s ridiculous.” She vigorously scrubbed her hands with soap and water as if that would wash away her invasive thoughts. “He’s not trying to turn me into Alexis.”
“You can say that again,” she heard from the other side of the stall door.
Jaylyn.
Reagan dried her hands and then unlocked and opened the door. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“He doesn’t even like Alexis,” Jaylyn said. “He’s definitely not trying to turn you into her. He’s just not accustomed to dating…”
“Someone without a trust fund?” Reagan filled in for her.
“A nice girl,” Jaylyn finished. “We like to give him shit about how many crash-and-burn girlfriends he’s had, but honestly there haven’t been that many. I date as much as, if not more, than he does.”
“I don’t feel like myself tonight.” She pointed at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. “She resembles Reagan Palmer, if there were a Barbie version.”
“You are still you , no matter how many diamonds are sewn into that gown. What’s going on?” Jaylyn asked.
“I’ll have to swear you to secrecy.”
Jaylyn mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.
“Brody is an easy guy to fall for. I want to make sure I’m not falling for the…” She held her skirt and did a half-turn. “ This. ”
“Aww, hon.” Jaylyn wrapped her arm around Reagan’s waist and faced the mirror. “You don’t strike me as a girl who falls in love with a man for what he can give her.”
“I’m not,” Reagan admitted.
“I was skeptical at first, but I love the idea of you and Brody.”
“What if I’m the only one falling?”
“Give him a chance. What if he feels the same way you do? What if he decides to stay in Merriweather Springs?” Jaylyn’s eyes filled with hope, which Reagan found contagious. “Let’s go order champagne and dance our asses off. It’ll be fun.”
“Sure about that?”
“Yes. Never be intimidated by the pomp and circumstance. The secret is to look bored. Pretend you’ve done this a hundred times.” Jaylyn offered up her best bored expression.
Maybe she was right. Reagan decided to shake off the worry that she didn’t belong—here and with Brody.
Brody hadn’t missed the way Reagan hightailed it out of the ballroom after Jaylyn’s pregnancy joke. And neither had Dante, who’d procured a glass of scotch, greeted three different people, and managed to bring it up ten minutes later.
“Pregnant?”
“She’s not pregnant.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.” He tugged on his bowtie, irritated with his siblings for being so…sibling-like.
Reagan had been closing up and closing in since they’d arrived in the city this morning. He’d chalked it up to fatigue and the scare she’d had with her grandfather. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“She’s not from our world, Brody,” Dante said. “I imagine this is a lot.”
“We’re not on Neptune.”
“To her, we might be. Did you tell her you were giving her the house?”
A couple stood off to the side, their interested gazes on Dante. “You have more meet-and-greets to do.”
“You have to tell her. Soon.” Dante pointed at him with his glass and then turned toward the couple.
Before Brody could take a breath, Jaylyn and Reagan materialized, each carrying a glass of champagne.
“Oh my God!” Jaylyn exclaimed, her gaze darting across the room. “My ex-roommate is here. I have to say hi.”
“Male or female?” Brody asked. Jaylyn flipped him the bird before scampering off to say hello.
Reagan laughed, and it was like a light had turned on inside her.
“How are you handling this bullshit?” He gestured at the crowd. “I guess I didn’t consider how uncomfortable this was for you.”
“Jaylyn advised me to act bored.”
“Thankfully not a challenge when in the presence of the uberwealthy.”
“I just had to take a minute to breathe and remind myself that if I can rewire a ceiling fan, I can make small talk with billionaires.”
“The ceiling fan thing is probably less painful.” He cast a look around the room at the well-dressed crowd and then weaved his fingers with hers. “Come with me.”
“Where? Don’t tell me we’re going to the terrace Lexi bragged about?” Her tone was teasing.
“Try not to let her ruin it for you, okay?”
“Okay.”
On the far end of the ballroom, there was a pair of double doors. Beyond that, a terrace with a seating area marked private . Fire bowls were lit, and fairy lights glowed.
Brody unhooked a thick black rope and gestured for her to go out ahead of him. The breeze lifted her hair as she approached the glass wall and peered through it. Windows were lit in checkerboard patterns on the skyscrapers beyond. Cars buzzed by on the street below. The dark sky held a fat full moon and a handful of stubborn twinkling stars the city lights had failed to outshine.
“Are we allowed to be out here?” she asked.
“Cranes only.”
“I should have known. The world truly is your oyster, isn’t it?” She sat on a plump cushioned couch and dropped her clutch onto her lap. He sat with her. “I admit I’ve been feeling out of place. I’m not accustomed to attending charity balls or personal shoppers wheeling out racks of couture for me to choose from.”
“I wanted you to indulge.”
She met his eyes and asked, “Why?”
“Why?” he repeated.
“You’re planning on leaving Merriweather Springs after the book is done, right?” She continued without waiting for him to confirm. “Is living there and having a round-the-clock muse merely an experiment for you? Or is there something more substantial going on that I should know about?”
Shit. He hated when Dante was right.
Reagan was asking for more. They had shared a lot of intimate moments, and, yes, many of them went beyond sex. He’d visited her relative in the hospital. They lived together. Without meaning to, he’d complicated the hell out of things with her. He’d been flying by the seat of his pants and had mistakenly assumed she had been too.
But Reagan wasn’t a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of girl, was she? She’d grown up with a mother who was as unstable as an unmonitored nuclear power plant. Once her grandparents had adopted her, she’d clung to sameness. She loved stability. Which was why he’d decided to give her the house in the first place.
“I’m still leaving.” He watched her reaction closely. Her eyes widened before she jutted her chin in that stubborn, proud way she had.
“I like Merriweather Springs. But I belong somewhere…faster.” He was more comfortable with a fast pace; a lot going on around him.
“That makes sense.” She tucked her blond hair behind her ear. “You belong here. That tuxedo, those diamond cufflinks—elegance suits you. Sometimes the clothes really do make the man.”
“I don’t belong in any one place. That’s the thing.” He unbuttoned his jacket as he turned his body toward hers. He should have planned what to say next but he hadn’t, so he blurted out, “I’ve always believed that settling down is the start of the slow rot.”
Her eyebrows closed in over her nose.
Committed to his path, he continued to explain. “Stop moving, you die. I need to stay limber.” It was nothing he hadn’t said before, so why did he sound completely full of shit? “I came to Chicago to write my book—to finish the draft. My plan has always been to come back here to edit it. I embraced suburbia, genuinely, but the novelty has worn off.”
Her back snapped into a rigid line, her expression dangerously neutral.
Wrong thing to say.
“That didn’t come out right.” He’d brought her outside to share that she’d soon own the house she used to live in. Reagan had a life. A separate one that he’d intruded upon. She deserved to have her house back instead of it sitting empty when he left town. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re not going to have to find an apartment.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not going to keep the house. I want you to have it.” A lump formed in his throat as a wave of dizziness hit him. It was a decision he’d made a while ago. One he’d been sure about. So why did he feel a pinch of uncertainty now? “It always should have been yours. I wouldn’t feel right keeping it, or even selling it to you. You’ve been a huge help.”
Wow. That sounded lame out loud. The woman whose hand was in his was so much more than “help.” She was more than his handywoman or his muse. She’d surprised him in so many ways. From her collection of tacky plastic jewelry to the way she trusted him with her body. She had fulfilled him in a way he hadn’t known was possible before he met her. If he was into the long-term scene, Reagan would be the perfect life partner.
The lump thickened in his throat, but he pressed on. Maybe once she knew he wasn’t going to dangle her house over her head, she could relax and enjoy the evening. Enjoy the many nights they’d spend together back home.
Home. He refused to turn that thought over in his head. He knew himself well. Well enough not to lead her on. He tried to smile. “I have to check with my lawyer, but I think if I charge you a dollar it’ll keep the taxman from eating you alive. Hell,” he added with a grin, “I’ll give you the dollar too.”
Suddenly she was standing over him, fuming if the rigid set of her shoulders and balled-up fists were any indication. “Believe it or not, I have a dollar, Brody.”
“I know you do.” He stood with her. “And hey, if you decide you want to move someday, you’ll have an asset. The neighborhood’s value is skyrocketing. In a couple of years, you’ll be able to sell that house for five times what I paid for it.”
Her neck was red, the shade traveling swiftly to her cheeks. “I’m surprised you haven’t offered me up for auction yet.”
“Pardon?”
“Evidently I’m the biggest charity case here.”
Before he could respond, she gathered the length of her dress with both hands and rushed inside.