A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 (18 page)

Bree did not expect Gina to open her arms and hug her, and she certainly didn’t expect her less than touchy-feely friend to offer forgiveness. She did both. “It’s okay, Bree. We’re here for you.” Gina patted her back, said in a voice filled with conviction, “We’ll always be here for each other, no matter what detours we take.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ve missed you.” Christine laid a hand on Bree’s arm. “It’s good to have you back.”

Bree lifted her head from Gina’s shoulder, eased her grip on her friend. “I promise that from here on, when I’m in the dumps, I’ll come to you. I won’t try to deal with my problems myself because obviously, I’m horrible at it.” She sniffed, swiped a hand across her cheeks. “I truly am sorry for my behavior. There really is no excuse.” Her gaze swept over her friends, landed on Tess. “You could have turned us all away so you wouldn’t have to look at our swollen bellies or the babies that came later. But you didn’t. You’re so strong, and I can learn from that.” She smiled at Tess, shifted her gaze to Christine and Gina. “I can learn from all of you about dealing with sadness and a life that doesn’t turn out the way we think it should. When I married Brody, I was still a child, but I thought my whole life was mapped out, starting with a wedding ring and a pregnancy. I never thought about what would happen if my prince turned out to be a dunce and how I’d cope if I were alone. That’s why I shut down.” She paused and thought of the reason she was standing here right now. “And then I met someone really special, and I totally screwed everything up, just like I always do.”

The look Gina gave her was more pre-Ben and the words were definitely pre-children. “Bree, you are not going to turn this into a dramafest. We don’t have the time for it. We know you’re talking about that guy your father hired from Chicago, so spill.”

“Yes,” Tess said, her voice soft and caring. “Do spill on Mr. Looks and Manners because you cannot let him go.”

Bree shook her head, bit her lip. “He’s already gone.”

Two hour later, Bree left Tess Casherdon’s with hope in her heart. Tess and Christine thought she should call Adam and apologize, but Gina was the one who said this apology needed to happen in person—at the same restaurant where Bree first met Adam. Who would have thought Gina was such a romantic? Still, it didn’t matter because Bree was too chicken to have a face-to-face with the man right now. Scaredy-cat, that’s what she was. Her friends told her that one way or the other, it was up to Bree to make the first move and she shouldn’t wait too long to figure that out. They said Adam Brandon had tried to do the right thing by her and while he might not have been one hundred percent honest about his reason for being in Magdalena, it wasn’t all his fault. Her father was the real culprit, though Bree hadn’t seen it that way until it was too late.

But, the real problem was with Bree. She’d pushed the man away, told herself she only wanted him for the physical aspects of the relationship, and for the longest time, actually refused to acknowledge they
had
a relationship. What a bunch of baloney. She’d been gaga over him since the first time he kissed her, so who was she kidding? And once he’d touched her and taken her to bed, it was game over. Of course, she’d tried to deny it because she was so dang scared to trust a man again, really trust as in “all-in,” especially one with looks and charm like Adam Brandon. Why do that? So he could trample her heart like that cheater dead husband had done? Definitely not, no way. But all the denying and protecting hadn’t done any good because the man
had
stolen her heart and then he’d trampled it when he left. But that was on her, a regret she would carry forever.

They say misery loves to share itself, and when Natalie Servetti showed up at Bree’s door later that night after the girls were asleep, she looked pitiful. Bloodshot eyes, smeared mascara, red nose, and goodness, the most awful T-shirt and sweatpants ever. “Natalie, what on earth is wrong?”

“May I come in?”

The woman looked like Bree felt, and that meant a man was behind it. “Of course.” Natalie stepped inside and Bree led her to the living room. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of water, please.”

“Sure. Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”

Bree had doubted Robert’s intentions toward Natalie and hoped she was wrong, but her gut told her she wasn’t. She poured two glasses of water, headed to the living room, and handed one to Natalie. “Now tell me what’s wrong.” The story poured out like Niagara Falls, hard, fast, all-consuming. When Natalie got to the part about how she’d spied on Robert and spotted a woman kissing him, Bree’s heart ached for her. Damn men! But when Natalie spilled the rest of the story, including his mother’s part in it and his hesitation to confront her, that’s when Bree knew real sympathy. Natalie had hurt a lot of people, but she wasn’t that same person anymore. She deserved a second chance with a decent guy, not some jerk who couldn’t stand up to his mother.

“You’re better than this.” Bree squeezed her hand. “Do you hear me? No man should be allowed to make you feel like crap.”

Natalie nodded. “He says he loves me.”

Damn men!
“If he loves you, then let him show you.”

T
wo days later
, Natalie was folding towels in the back room of the salon when Marissa burst in, face flushed, eyes bright. “There’s a man to see you.” She fanned herself, whispered, “I think it’s your Robert.”

Robert?
No, it couldn’t possibly be, though she’d dreamed of the man enough these past nights to almost imagine him standing here. No doubt, it would be some bad reminder from a past she wanted to forget, not a hope from the future that was not going to happen. Natalie folded the towel and placed it in the basket, smoothed her shirt, and made her way to the front of the salon.

“Nat?” Robert Trimble jumped up from the nubby tan chair in the waiting room, his expression serious, lips unsmiling. He thrust a gigantic bouquet of red roses tied with a white satin ribbon at her, tried for a smile that flopped. “For you.”

She ignored the roses because while they were beautiful, gifts without action meant nothing, not anymore. “Why are you here?”

He licked his lips, took a step toward her, lowered his voice as though to keep the conversation private. Good luck with that. The women in the salon pretended they were busy with their tasks, two cutting hair, another sweeping the floor, still another thumbing through the appointment book, but they all had antennae up and homed in on the mysterious Robert, a man whose very existence they’d wondered about.

“I miss you, Nat. I had to see you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, planted her feet to fight his sweet-talk. What good did lapping up the sweet-talk do other than to make her believe in fairy tales that didn’t exist? Not this time. “Why are you really here, Robert? Did Jeanine turn you down?”

“No! Please, Nat. Come back to me.” He placed the flowers on the chair next to him, stuffed a hand in his right pocket, and pulled out a blue velvet box.

The gasps swirling around her said everyone in the salon was listening
and
watching and probably thought they knew exactly what was in the box. Everyone except Natalie. Oh, he’d make it look like the kind of box that would hold an engagement ring and just when she believed that’s what it was, he’d pop it open and there’d be earrings or a pin. Beautiful and expensive, but
not
an engagement ring.

“Open it.” When she continued to stare at the velvet box, he added, “Please.”

She shook her head, fought the tears that insisted on finding a way down her cheeks. He’d promised her too many times that they would be together. “I’m sorry, Robert.” Natalie backed away before she fell apart. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“I love you, Natalie.” He dropped to his knee, flipped open the box, and said, “Marry me. Please. I know I don’t deserve you, but if you give me one last chance, I promise I will spend my life making you the happiest woman on earth.”

She stared at the ring. An engagement ring and a marriage proposal. She wanted to believe him, but could she? Her gaze skittered to his. “What’s the catch? A ten-year engagement?” Any second he would lure her back in with words and promises, ones she’d heard too many times before. This time she was smarter. This time she would demand the truth.

He clutched her hand, his eyes rimmed with tears. “I want to get married as soon as possible. I told my mother if I were lucky enough to convince you to marry me, then you and I would make our own decisions, including how we lived our lives and if she couldn’t accept that, then maybe she wouldn’t get to know her grandchildren.” His thin lips pulled into a smile, wobbled. “That settled her down fast.”

“Grandchildren?”

His face turned as red as her favorite “perfectly red” nail polish. “You said you wanted children.”

Could he really be serious? Natalie swiped at her eyes with her free hand. “I can’t take another empty promise, Robert. I would rather you leave now and I never see you again than believe another lie.”

“I promise on my love for you. No more procrastinating. No more worrying about what anybody says or thinks but you.” He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it. “It took almost losing you to realize how wrong I’ve been.”

“You really want to marry me?”

“More than anything.”

“I’m not perfect.”

He smiled. “Thank God.”

Robert Trimble wanted to marry her, imperfect Natalie Servetti
. She leaned forward, kissed him. “How about you stand up and get this ring on my finger?”

His smile spread. “You haven’t answered me yet. Natalie Servetti, will you marry me?”

“Yes. Oh, yes!” When he placed the ring on her finger, she held her hand in the air, delighted in the sparkle of the solitaire on her finger. Robert stood and pulled her in his arms, kissing her with a conviction that told her there would be no more delays or skimpy promises. From this moment on, she had his heart, all of it. And he had hers.

N
ews of Adam Brandon’s
sudden departure and the reason behind it created enough speculation to keep people guessing for weeks. Some said an emergency called him back, leaving no time for thank yous or good-byes. Others said he’d finished his job and headed out without bothering to bid adieu because Magdalena and the folks in it had been nothing more than an assignment. Still others said something must have happened to make him bolt like that, and it was the “what” that had them guessing. But there were one or two who’d seen the young man a day before he left, eating lunch alone at Lina’s Café, his handsome face sadder than Lily Desantro’s when she didn’t get the last piece of Lina’s cherry pie.

What could
that
be about? Nobody knew, but everybody wanted to guess.

A woman?

A deal?

An illness in the family, maybe even a death?

Speculation and deduction said it wasn’t a woman, not with movie-star looks and charm like that man had. What woman wouldn’t fall all over him, give him anything and absolutely everything he wanted? But then why such a long face? Men like that might take losing out on a business deal and the money that undoubtedly went with it as personal. That could be it, but maybe it had to do with family, like an illness, or heaven forbid, a death?

The town hovered on the family issue and a few searched the Internet for information on
Brandon
and what do you think they found
? Matthew Brandon, bestselling fiction writer of the Jack Steele Private Investigator series has one brother, Adam, and a sister, Amy.

What??

The discovery that the man’s brother was the famous author Matthew Brandon had the whole town reworking theories on why the man left, but now they slapped a “why didn’t he tell us who he really was?” on it. Speculation persisted, the greatest from Rex MacGregor, the very man who opened his doors to Adam Brandon. Bree didn’t speak with her father for three weeks, but at the end of the fourth, after yet another phone call from her mother, begging Bree to forgive her father for his “grave error in judgment,” she agreed to see him.

There were a lot of tears in that meeting, most coming from her daddy, but Bree shed a bucket or two, and not all of those tears had to do with the estrangement. A lot of those tears had a whole different reason for spilling, and the reason had a name
and
a face: Adam Brandon. She missed him, wanted to talk to him, hear his laugh, see the sparkle in his eyes, the kindness in his voice.
She loved him
, and he’d said he loved her, too. And what had she gone and done with that? Thrown it away, stomped on it, called him names, destroyed what might have been. No amount of tears would ease the pain of knowing what might have been.

Bree and her father came to an agreement of sorts, one that nixed the idea of selling the company and gave her full control in five years. All he required from her was a promise not to bury herself in work but live her life, stay in touch with her friends, spend more time with the girls, and when the time came,
if
it came, open up to caring about someone again. He’d danced around the last issue and when he hinted the “young man might want to hear from you,” that had been the last thing she’d expect him to say and the one that made her turn away so he did not see her pain. But a parent knows; a parent always knows. There’d been no more talk of the young man but Daddy held her until she stopped shaking and the sniffles subsided, just like he’d done when she was a little girl and their Irish setter, Penny, got out of the fence and ran away. Will Carrick found her at Boone’s Peak, muddy and full of briars, and more than eager to jump in his truck. He’d brought her home and Bree and Daddy bathed her, fed her, and for the very first time in Penny’s four years of life, Mama and Daddy let her sleep in Bree’s bed.

But Adam Brandon hadn’t run away; he’d been chased, kicked out, and told he wasn’t wanted. Nobody was sending him back to Bree, not to her doorstep and certainly not to her bed. She never should have let him go. She should have listened to him, tried for once in her upside-down life to be patient and logical. Then she would have seen and understood his words, would have known that if she sent him away, she’d be sending part of her heart with him.

When her father stopped over late Saturday morning, almost five weeks after Adam left, he brought a flat of purple pansies and a bag of soil that he assured her would brighten her spirits, even though she hadn’t said a single word about her spirits being gloomy. Bree gathered up her garden gloves and spade and followed him through the gate to the backyard and the two barrel planters on either side of the deck.

Her father set the soil and flat of violets on the ground and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Where are the girls?”

Bree pointed to the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen. “Ella Blue and Lindsey are inside cleaning the pigpens they call rooms and Scarlett is at the neighbor’s.”

“Good, because I’ve been thinking…”

“Daddy.” The tone in his voice told her she wasn’t going to like this next part. “Please don’t.” They both knew what she meant, but when her father took her hand and motioned for her to sit on the deck steps, she knew he was going to have his say.

“You need to make things right with Adam.”

“What?” Bree turned, stared at her father. “Why would you say that?”

He laid a big hand on her knee, patted it. “Because I’m responsible for what happened and I can’t sit by and watch you two living separate lives.” He let out a sigh, cleared his throat. “I said some pretty hurtful things to the man, words I now realize weren’t true, and I regret them. I wanted to keep you safe so you’d never get hurt again, but how was I really going to do that? The second you step into the world, you risk getting hurt. It’s called life and we’re put on this earth to live it, not fear it.” His voice dipped, smothered with tenderness. “A parent will do anything to help his child, even if it means letting go.”

“Daddy?” She didn’t like the look on his face, like he was about to cry. “What are you saying?”

“Part of me worried if you took up with Adam Brandon, you’d scoot off to Chicago with the girls and your mama and I would only see you on holidays and birthdays. I didn’t want to be that kind of grandpa, but that’s selfish and I’m ashamed of it. You have to go where you find your happiness, and like Pop told me, it has to be your definition of the word, not mine.”

“You talked to Pop about me?”

He nodded. “The man wasn’t very happy with me. Between him and your mama, I heard a lot of squawking about how I butted in when I shouldn’t have and how I needed to make it right.” Her daddy dragged a hand over his face. “I can’t stand being at odds with your mama, but until you make things right with Adam, she’ll make me suffer with those evil-eyed stares and pinched lips. You know how your mama does when she’s not happy.”

Make things right with Adam
? How was she supposed to do that when she’d been pure miserable to him? “It’s not that easy.”

“Never is when something worthwhile’s involved.”

“He won’t want to see me again.” Why would he? Adam Brandon could have any woman he wanted; surely he wouldn’t be mooning over a pain in the butt who didn’t know a good thing when it stood right next to her.

“I think he would. At least that’s what Roman says.”

“Roman? When did you talk to Roman?”

“Yesterday. Seems Adam’s convinced Roman to send him overseas for nine months, or maybe it was nineteen months.” He paused, rubbed his jaw. “Italy and France, maybe? Or was it Australia?” He shrugged, his bushy brows pinching together. “Can’t say as I remember. Not sure what he’s doing there either. All Roman told me is that Adam hasn’t been the same since he got back from Magdalena. Quiet, withdrawn. Roman thinks his friend is trying to forget something, or someone, and that’s why he’s leaving.”

Bree bit her lip. Adam was miserable and she’d done this to him.
She didn’t want him to go gallivanting to who knew where until who knew when.
What if he decided not to come back? There’d been a sense of comfort these past weeks knowing he was in Chicago, knowing she could look at the clock and think about what he might be doing. She’d even pictured herself in the city, in the very restaurant where they first met. But now that would end; now her pretend world would crash and she really wouldn’t ever see him again.

“Go to him, Bree. Your mama and I will take care of the girls. Don’t think about what I want, or what your mama wants, or how you could get hurt. Don’t think about any of that but what’s in your heart. Tell him what’s in there and do it now.” His eyes misted. “But do it before it’s too late.”

I
t had been
thirty-six days since he’d last seen Bree. Thirty-six days since he’d lost all hope for a future with the woman he loved. Maybe he should give up women altogether or settle for the ones who would be and do anything for him as long as he opened his wallet. He bet he could even find a tall woman with strawberry-blond hair and long legs who didn’t mind being called Bree. She’d probably agree to faking a southern accent, too, and if he gave her enough attention and trinkets, she might even agree to playacting as though she
were
Bree.