This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 17
“Sylvia needs me back in New York right away.” Her voice was a clotted whisper. “The author I’ve been working with for the past year is threatening to bail.”
“The self-help guru?” Yeah, Brad knew who Ryan Connor was. Every colleague of his who wanted to be a success in business had a copy of his last book on their shelves, The Assertiveness Project: Work Hard, Plan Hard, Get What You Want. He’d made the rounds on every talk show, been written up in People, and his book was everywhere, from the big chain bookstores to Target.
She nodded. “Our biggest client. He’s refusing to work with anyone else.”
Brad paced the darkened hallway, his lighthearted mood dissolving in the dim light. He understood she had an important job. But what kind of employer did that to a new mother, especially under these circumstances? She needed more time to adjust, adapt, rest. He hated the thought of her jumping at her boss’s call and even asking how high. Her eagerness to get back meant something he couldn’t accept.
It was him versus the job, and he could already see which one won.
Brad clasped her by the arms, overpowered by a dark sense of desperation mixed with blind fury. “Fuck the client. Stay here and marry me. We’ll give Annabelle a home and a family. You wouldn’t have to worry about money or working unless you wanted to.”
Olivia gasped. She looked shocked. Oh, hell, it had all come out so badly. A lukewarm proposal in the form of a demand and telling her she didn’t need to work when he couldn’t imagine her never working in her life. Brad’s brain buzzed, stunned by his own outburst. On autopilot, he dropped to one knee, but even as he did it, his heart was breaking. It felt wrong. Like he was begging, not asking. He already knew her answer, and he couldn’t bear to look.
Her fingers smoothed his hair and for a second he was comforted. Slowly, she slid her back down the wall until she sat next to him. Tears streaked her face like rivulets of rain down a windshield.
“I have to go back, Brad. I’ve invested my heart and soul in this project for over a year. Other people’s jobs are at stake.”
He shook his head fiercely, as if that would prevent the truth from penetrating. She wasn’t even going to consider it working between them. Her life in New York was more important than he was.
Annabelle let out a cry. Olivia’s father walked about the kitchen, trying to soothe her.
“I’ll get her.” Brad rose, relieved to have something else to do.
Somehow he went through the motions of thanking Frank for staying and mumbled some excuse about Olivia being tied up on the phone. Olivia changed Annabelle and put her down for a nap while he tackled the kitchen, the repetition of familiar tasks the only thing that prevented him from losing it.
Olivia came up behind him at the sink, encircled his waist with her arms. His gut clenched with desperation. “I love you,” she said. “But please, please understand I have to do this.”
Brad closed his eyes. Felt the warmth of her hands around his waist. Wished he could take back the past quarter hour and go back to the absolute joy he’d felt. Yet he knew from experience any “I love you” trailed by a “but” was not good. He turned, wiped his hands on the towel he’d slung over his shoulder.
Olivia looked pale and upset, but he held her at arm’s length. “I don’t know what to say. Except sometimes it seems like your job is more important than Annabelle or I are.”
“No! It’s not like that.” Her beautiful brown eyes looked startled and sad. Even in his anger, he hated to see her hurt.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the image out of his mind. “When we were kids, I got why you needed to leave. Back then we both let our differences overcome us. We’re older now. We can fight for what we want.”
“If you knew me at all, you would never ask me to give everything up so easily.”
“Well then, maybe I don’t really know you, Olivia.” Because it sure seemed to him that she didn’t have the slightest problem giving him up. That made her eyes tear up and she backed away. “While I’m there, I’ll finalize the nanny. And once the book’s done they’ll drop my hours.”
She sounded like she had a plan. Too bad he wasn’t included. “What if they don’t?” He swallowed hard. His words tasted as bitter as they sounded. “I’m sure this project will only be replaced by another one just as urgent.”
“I know you’re angry with me. But surely you don’t expect me to up and quit everything I’ve worked ten years for?”
She reached out to him but he sidestepped her. If she touched him he’d be a goner. He tore a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to understand. I just don’t get how you can sacrifice Annabelle in the process.” And me, a voice inside his head whispered. But he would never say it.
“And sometimes I feel that Annabelle is your only concern.”
“She’s a helpless baby. She needs a family. Or have you forgotten she’s already lost one of those?” He had to keep his focus on Annabelle. Because the pain of his own rejection threatened to break him in half.
Anger flashed in her eyes. “What do you want from me, Brad? Do you honestly think I’d quit my job, move back here and be just your wife?”
“Just my wife.” His hands shook so he fisted them. He paced, sealed his lips and gnawed his cheek to prevent himself from saying things he’d regret as those three little words ping-ponged around his brain, each jolt a jarring stab. “Sometimes I think you forget that raising a child requires sacrifices. Ones you aren’t willing to make.”
A frown darkened her brow. “That’s so unfair, Brad. Why does it have to be all-or-nothing? For you, it seems the only good solution is if I stop working and come back here to live.”
“I never asked you to stop working. But what they’re asking you to do is unreasonable. Why can’t you push back a little, offer a compromise, something?” Her job loomed too large, like another person in their relationship.
He couldn’t connect with her, couldn’t see her way or make her see his. Her rejection of everything he’d just offered—of him—was complete.
“Go back to New York, Olivia,” he ground out. “Finish your project. But who will watch Annabelle until you can hire a permanent person?”
“Most of my friends are single but I can make a few phone calls. I think I can make a temporary arrangement until I decide on the right nanny.”
Brad’s stomach clenched to think of Annabelle moved around again, taken care of by strangers. It just seemed . . . wrong.
“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s the best I can do on such short notice.” Olivia walked to the back door and stared out at the lush green backyard. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
“I’ll take her,” Brad blurted. “I’ll take Annabelle.” The words shocked him, even as they spilled from his mouth.
Olivia spun back toward him, her mouth open in surprise. “You’d take her? Temporarily, of course.”
“I’d have to put her in daycare, but I’ve known Sally Hersch for years and I know she runs a quality place. My family can help me out here and there.” He’d barely blinked an eye before replying, but it felt right. He adored Annabelle, he knew that much. Somehow, his need to be footloose, free of responsibilities, seemed distant and unimportant.
“How do you feel about that—I mean, independent of the problems we’re having?” She stood in the middle of the kitchen, hugging her arms around herself, her mouth drawn into a thin, tense line.
He ached to make things right between them, but he had no idea how. “I would rather take care of her myself than see her switched from stranger to stranger.”
“I-I would be comfortable leaving Annabelle with you, someone she knows and who loves her. It seems like the best solution—if you’re okay with it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it? I meant what I offered.” Even if he was so angry and upset with Olivia he couldn’t see straight.
An ice-cold trickle of dread shot down his spine. In offering to take the baby, he was giving her time to reconsider Mirror Lake, motherhood, and him. Once she returned to New York, her familiar routine might knock all three right out of her thoughts for good.
“Well, I’m glad we have Annabelle taken care of.” Her words carried a bite.
What did she want from him? He’d done his best to do the right thing, but he couldn’t stomach a big declaration of love. Not when he was so damn angry and she was leaving him anyway. And maybe she wouldn’t come back.
Brad rubbed a sudden crick in his neck as he set down the dishtowel and mumbled a quick good-bye. How had he done it? Allowed her back into his life, his heart. He was that eighteen-year-old kid again, staying behind while she left for the big city, his old heartbreak ripped wide open and bleeding again.
The door snapped shut behind him, separating him from the woman—the two women—he loved. Yes, it was the exact same pain as before.
Only doubled.
CHAPTER 18
“Why did you let her leave? How could you?” It was 8:00 a.m. and Samantha was in Brad’s face, rattling him like she always did. Except he’d slept all of two hours and if he didn’t get some coffee right now, he might just kill her.
And make it look like an accident.
It had been three days since Olivia left and agreed to leave Annabelle with him. She’d only been gone for two but Annabelle knew, and that made his heartburn flare worse than hot sauce on spicy wings. What must be going through her little baby mind? That nothing and no one was permanent? And apparently he wasn’t the baby whisperer that he claimed to be, because she was not having any of his charms. She wanted Olivia.
He just prayed breakfast would calm her. If only he could find a clean bottle. Bouncing Annabelle in one arm while he prepared her formula with the other, he opened the microwave door but Samantha snatched the bottle from his hand.
“You’re not supposed to do that. Here, let me help you.” She took a pan out and began running some warm water.
Where was that damn coffee pot?
The counter was full of bottles, dishes. A pile of baby clothes lay in the middle of the kitchen floor, waiting to be put in the washer. His cell phone rang. Olivia had called—a lot—but finally he’d told her Annabelle was fine, just fine, and he needed some time and space to cool down. When he checked his phone, he found seven messages from the restaurant. Troubles abounded, no doubt because he’d been neglecting that, too. Fires smoldered everywhere.
He finally located the coffee pot among the fallout. One cold, grainy swig left. Just his luck. He drank straight from the pot.
For all his cocky arrogance, he certainly was not getting it together. How could he have ever criticized Olivia?
“So?” Samantha said accusingly, swirling the bottle in the warm water. “Why’d she leave?”
He shot his sister a murderous glare. Good thing she was too busy to notice. He didn’t want to piss her off too badly or he’d have no help at all.
“It’s complicated.” Samantha was just a college kid. What did she know of adult problems anyway?
She spun around from the stove. “Quit treating me like a child. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not one anymore.”
Like he needed one more person to fuel his massive headache. “Look, I know you’re angry with me, but it was Olivia’s decision to leave. She’s got a job and a life and neither of those are here in Mirror Lake.”
“Maybe they would be if you asked her to marry you.”
He remembered his weak-kneed marriage proposal Olivia must have sensed as half-hearted. But then he remembered her insistence on leaving, and her rejection of him. “What are you talking about?”
“Or maybe you just want Annabelle all to yourself.”
The final twig snapped, and with it his temper. “Now why the hell would I ever want that? Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise a kid by yourself? Especially when they buck you at every turn.” Like you.
“Yeah, well, if you weren’t so wrapped up with everything maybe you’d notice that something’s wrong with me.”
Brad looked at his sister—really looked. She was pale. Come to think of it, her eyes were kind of puffy and red. And she had dark circles under her eyes.
Oh, shit, something else he’d missed. He hadn’t noticed. He’d been too wrapped up in his own problems.
He set the baby down in her playpen in the middle of the family room floor. She fussed a little but he cranked up some musical toy and that quieted her temporarily. Then he grabbed his sister by the arms.
“Sit down and I’ll make you breakfast. We can talk. All right?”
A tear rolled down her cheek but she nodded and sat. “I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sick?” Please, God, don’t be pregnant. The bitter, acidic coffee he just drank roiled in his stomach. “Just sit.” He snatched a box of Kleenex from the counter, got the bottle and the baby, and sat with Samantha at the table.
“Spike and I broke up.”
He released a sigh of relief. But please, please don’t be pregnant. “I’m sorry about that,” he managed. He was sorry, for her pain, anyway. But not for the breakup.
“Well, you were right about him. When I wouldn’t sleep with him, he dumped me.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye and she swiped at it.
Brad’s shoulders sank, half from relief that she hadn’t slept with him, half because he’d failed his sister again. He’d been wrapped up in his own misery, didn’t even see hers. This job was a never-ending spiral of screwups, each one worse than the last. He reached out a hand and rubbed her back as she cried with her head down on the table.
“Honey, look.” What was he supposed to say? That some things are better over? That she’d find someone far better than that idiot? He chose higher ground. “There’s no one I know who didn’t get their heart broken some time or another.”
“He said . . . he said I was boring. He said I was a virgin tease. Oh, Brad, I’m never going to find anyone who just loves me . . . for me.”
She was hiccupping and crying and she was a hot mess. He usually avoided crying women at all costs. The boys never cried, except when the dog died, and he was grateful for their general lack of roller-coaster drama. But tears made him feel worse than helpless. He handed her another Kleenex and she blew her nose.
If Olivia were here, what would she say? He wracked his brain and came up with, “You’re perfect just the way you are, and if he doesn’t realize that, it’s his loss.” The son of a bitch. And if he comes near you again, I’ll kill him.
“He said he was sick of hearing about my career dilemmas and life crises and told me it would be best if we broke up.”
“When you really love somebody, you stick with them through thick and thin and you’ll do anything not to let that person go.”
Even as he said the words, he winced. God, he was a dumb fuck. Misery seeped through every pore. “If Spike really loved you, he’d want to hear about your life. Relationships are all about give and take. Maybe the reason Spike doesn’t want to talk is because he’s more interested in getting something else.”
“Brad!”
“Look, I’m your oldest brother. And I can’t help wanting to watch over you and protect you. Everything I’ve ever done, whether I’ve done it well or badly, has been because I love you and want you to have a great life. And if I see that someone might not want you for the right reasons, I’m going to say something about it, whether you want me to or not.”
“I thought Spike loved me. How do you know—when someone really loves you?”
“They put your needs first. They know you so well, they understand what’s really important to make you happy. And when you both disagree, you find a way to compromise.”
If only relationships were that easy. Maybe he hadn’t underst
ood how important Olivia’s job was to her. Maybe he hadn’t put himself totally on the line for her. But maybe neither of them was good at compromise.
“Brad, maybe I was relying too much on Spike. There’s something going on at school I haven’t told you about.”
He steeled himself for whatever was coming. Reminded himself that as long as she wasn’t pregnant, he could handle just about anything else.
“I went back to school after the funeral but I—well, I couldn’t concentrate and I tried to study for my exams but I was upset a lot so I didn’t even take two of them and the other two I got really bad grades on. I know you’re going to be so disappointed in me, but my professors said I can retake them and still keep my GPA up. I’m sorry, Brad.”
He looked hard at his little sister. Misery filled her every pore. She was worried about pleasing him, failing him. He’d sent her back to school after Kevin’s death thinking she’d get through it. She’d been so upset she couldn’t concentrate and she hadn’t even told him until now.
He gathered her to him and tucked her head under his chin like he used to when she was little. He wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders and squeezed tight. He felt tears dampen his shirt.
“I’m the one who should be sorry.” When he’d worked three jobs and went to school, he’d barreled forward in a haze of sleep deprivation. But he hadn’t lost his brother. When had he become perceived as a taskmaster who had to be pleased at any cost?
“I’m sorry I didn’t see your grief. And I’m sorry you were suffering by yourself and didn’t feel comfortable enough to call me. I’ve done a lot of things wrong with raising you. Mostly, I’m sorry you got me and not Mom and Dad.”
She lifted her head, her face all red and blotchy and tear-streaked, her eyes round and big. It reminded him of when she was three years old, listening to him rapturously as he embellished stories about Santa and the Easter Bunny.
Except she was far beyond that, and he needed to start treating her like she was. He snorted. “I made every mistake in the book. I was too hard on you. I tried to crush your defiance and that was like throwing water on a kitchen fire. The more I tried to squelch it, the more defiant you got. I felt out of control, and it was the only way I knew.”