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ht. I had someone else to consider besides myself. Especially now.
I looked at my mom and roamed my eyes over her perfectly coiffed and dressed presentation today for her ex-husband’s funeral. Why in the hell had she even come to the service? She’d barely spoken to Daddy after I moved away to London. She certainly couldn’t have any true grief for him. Could she? I had absolutely no idea. It saddened me to realize that I couldn’t tell because I didn’t know her well enough to tell. My mother and I weren’t close like that. We didn’t share deep feelings or secrets. I never knew why she suddenly divorced my dad, or if she’d ever even loved him. I didn’t know why they ever got married in the first place. How had they met? Where had he proposed? Stories of them dating? I had nothing.
I turned away and went with Ethan to a table, my heart closing off from her a little more with every step I took.
“You are so very beautiful,” Ethan said softly as I tried valiantly to ingest some of the food he’d gotten for me, “on the inside as much as the outside.”
I tried to swallow the honeydew melon that must surely be a hunk of wet sawdust from the way it tasted on my tongue, and told him, “I want to go home.”
“I know you do, baby. I want to take you home. There’s not much left to worry over now. Since your dad had everything in a trust . . . we can come back in a few months and see to things then. Mr. Murdock said it’s best to wait a bit anyway . . . you don’t want to make decisions about something so personal right at first.” He put his hand over mine.
Yes. Pete Murdock was Daddy’s business partner in his law firm. Or . . . he had been. Living trust was the way to go, Dad always said. I now controlled a house in Sausalito, all my dad’s money and investments; everything of material possession he had acquired in his fifty-one years now belonged to me.
I didn’t want any of it. I just wanted my dad back.
A friendly voice interrupted my thoughts. “Brynne . . . oh, honey, here you are.”
I turned to find Jessica with her arms open. I went into them and hugged my friend tightly. Jess and I went back to elementary school. First grade, Mrs. Flagler’s class. Nearly inseparable all the way up till our senior year of high school, Thanksgiving break, to be exact.
Yes, Jessica had been with me the night it happened. She had been a true friend in my time of need, but I had been too sick for friendships after the event. I’d needed to go away. A necessary component to my recovery process. We’d kept in touch over the years since I’d been in London, but hadn’t seen each other in more than four years. She still looked tanned and athletic, her blond pixie haircut the perfect complement to her petite shape. I was touched she showed up here today to pay her respects to my father.
“I’m so sorry, Brynne. Your dad—he was just the sweetest man—l enjoyed our conversations every time we saw each other at the gym. He loved to talk about you.”
“Oh, Jess . . .” I felt my eyes go wet and the emotions come pouring out. “Thank you for coming—it means a great deal to me to see you here. He really liked you too. Thought you were very sweet.” We hugged again and I really looked at her. “It’s so good to see you again.” I turned to Ethan. “Jess, this is Ethan Blackstone, my fiancé.” I held up my hand and showed my engagement ring. “Ethan, meet Jessica Vettner, my friend since the first grade.”
“It’s a pleasure, Jessica,” Ethan told her as they shook hands. I wondered if he remembered that Jess was the one I went to the party with on that ill-fated night of my life. If he did remember, he didn’t show any signs of it. Ethan was smooth as silk in these situations.
Jessica turned to her companion then, and made introductions. Another face from my past. Karl Westman stood beside Jess. Wow . . . so many emotions there. I needed a moment to take it all in, I was so overwhelmed. Seeing Lance Oakley’s father earlier had been crazy enough. I had been in such a fog, though, I barely registered whatever it was he’d said to me. My mom had spent more time talking to the senator than I had. Now Karl was here too?
“Brynne, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Karl said and moved in to hug me.
“Hi, Karl. It’s been a long time.” It felt awkward, but I know it had to be for him as well. We had a small past together, but it wasn’t really that which made my broken heart feel like it was being squeezed from the inside out. It was that all four of us standing here together knew about it. They had either seen the video of me or they had knowledge of its existence.
I really wanted to go home more than ever now. “Thanks for coming today. It was very kind of you.”
“My pleasure.” Karl ended the hug and I searched his dark eyes. I didn’t see anything hurtful in them. Just some kindness and maybe a bit of curiosity. That had to be normal, right? We’d met at a track meet the season we were juniors, and then ran into each other at the beginning of my senior year. We’d gone out on dates that ended as all my dates had back in those days—covert sex in some private location. I’d liked him a lot. Karl was a cute boy then, and a handsome man now. We both shared a love of Hendrix and had had many discussions about his music. Jess was absolutely right about Karl still being “hawt” in her message on Facebook. He had always treated me well. Not a bit like Lance Oakley had treated me.
Lance had been away at college, and I had been young and stupid. A long lifetime ago. Another world ago. Did Karl know he was the reason Lance became angry enough to drug me, and then film his buddies using me on a pool table? If I’d never gone out with Karl, maybe Lance and his friends wouldn’t have made the video of me at the party that night. The scenarios were endless. Woulda, coulda, shoulda . . . Yeah, did me absolutely no good to go there.
“I heard about it from Jess, of course,” he said, reaching an arm around her shoulders in a familiar affectionate gesture, “and I wanted to pay my respects in person.” Jessica looked up at him with stars in her eyes. It didn’t take a genius to see that my old friend had fallen hard for Karl Westman. He seemed very into her as well. I sincerely hoped it worked out for the two of them. They made a great couple.
I forced a smile and did the best acting performance of my life. “I’m so happy to see you both. It’s been far too long.”
Ethan drew me against his side as we made small talk with the two of them. It was a possessive move on his part, and one I was well familiar with by now. He rubbed his hand slowly up and down my arm as he gave Jess and Karl his full attention. Especially when Karl told us how his company was sending him to the Olympics for a research trip and that we should get together while he was in London. Um . . . probably not going to happen, Karl.
Ethan made sure to mention our upcoming wedding, and the date, while linking his hand with mine, bringing it curled to his lips, and kissing the back of it. Same effect as a dog pissing on a lamppost, really, just done very elegantly, with me being the metaphorical lamppost. Ethan managed to get away with such behavior, and make it look gallant. He always had.
And again, I wondered if he’d identified my “past” with Karl. I swear he was capable of figuring it out. Ethan’s Spidey sense was ultra-keen when it came to other men and me. Remembering his blowup when I’d met Paul Langley on the street in front of the coffeehouse, I recognized Ethan’s vivid jealous streak in regard to my past relationships with other men. I definitely had a past, that’s true. There had been more than a few men, and he had to acknowledge that fact. Nothing I could do would change anything. But Ethan had a past too, and acceptance of what couldn’t be altered was part of learning to trust in a relationship. We both had to let go of some things. I wasn’t going to avoid speaking to people like Paul and Karl just because Ethan was insanely jealous of any man who had been with me before him. I was not with those others now, I was with him.
I shrugged it off as best I could. Didn’t matter. The past was just that: in the past . . . finished . . . over and done with. Even though I was aching inside, and desperately low from losing my dad, I still understood what was most important. My eyes were opened clearly from this experience, and they would stay that way. Loss of a loved one will shift your priorities in an instant, I had learned.
My father was gone, but my mind was intact.
I knew what mattered, and what didn’t. The person holding me against his strong body in protection with loving care, and, the tiny person growing inside me were my whole world now.
? Having Brynne sleeping against me on the flight home to London made me feel the best I had in days. She was utterly spent and so exhausted she’d nodded off almost immediately after taking our seats. I didn’t blame her either. The send-off from her mum had been . . . painful, for lack of a better description. I was exhausted from the experience myself. God, I really did not like that bloody woman even a miniscule bit. I was headed for absolute fucking my-worst-nightmare mother-in-law hell. And there was not a thing in the world I could do about it. My sweet girl had a gorgon for a mother. She was very beautiful in a designer-chic way, just as I had imagined she would be, but a hideous gorgon all the same. I envisioned Tom Bennett was now receiving his saintly wings for putting up with her for as long as he had. I suppressed a shudder.
Mummy dearest had tried to get Brynne to extend her trip and let me go on home alone. I ground my teeth together in remembrance. As if I would ever allow such a thing! She would have tried to influence her to terminate or get her to move back to the U.S. probably.
