Page 23 of Sterling Fight

I wish I had something that belonged to my dad.

After his passing, my mother quickly cleared out his belongings. Then it was on to husband number two. Denny, then Henry, and finally Lester.

I tip back my head and consider again how I’m in Judd’s home and compare it to my mother’s place.

The house I grew up in changed with each of my mom’s marriages. Like a new husband warranted an entire renovation to the place.

There was Denny and the industrial kitchen. Henry and a new den with the addition of a game room. And finally, Lester and bedroom makeovers.

The only room that remained untouched was mine, which stands exactly as it looked when I was a child and last lived with my mom. The same ruffly curtains and childish furniture. A collection of dolls, that come to think of it, are not mine, and a pile of stuffed animals. The room is more museum than sleeping quarters, and I did not want to sleep in it.

I wonder if Judd would let me stay here. We are engaged. I laugh without humor. I’m never getting married. I’d be shit at it, as I’d told Judd. It’s not that I’d be disloyal or lack commitment, it’s that I don’t trust in the institution. Look how easily my mother has divorced and remarried? Nothing lasts forever.

I lift my head and reach for the bottle of wine I’d set on the floor. Taking another glance around the room, I speak to it.

“Have I entered Bridgerton?” The space is reminiscent of Regency England. A writing desk stands in the corner. A slim wooden chair behind it. Plus, this chaise lounge despite its contemporary flair. Then, I recall the book in my hand, and I’m reminded I’m very much in the modern era.

“I bet you’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you, Judd Sylver?”

I open the familiar book by one of my favorite authors, but don’t get very far before my lids droop. The excitement and confusion of the day catches up to me. The whiskey and wine on only a cinnamon roll-filled belly might also have something to do with my sudden lethargy.

As I tip my head to the side, supported by the raised corner, I tell myself just for a few minutes.

Or maybe I speak to the empty room. It’s becoming a habit.

Eventually, something brushes my cheek, and I startle awake. The room is dark. The window is illuminated by an exterior light highlighting the X-pattern. Clutching the book to my chest, I shift and find Judd sitting in the wooden desk chair, now placed beside the chaise lounge.

“You’re back.”

Judd retracts his hand. It’s difficult to fully see him in the dim light.

His chuckle is quiet, like he’s afraid to break the silence. “I always thought when I finally brought a woman here, she’d be sleeping in my bed, not the library.”

I stare at Judd a second before I shift on the chaise. The kink in my neck is a reminder I’d fallen asleep in this quiet, dark space in an awkward position.

Has he never brought Heather here? I don’t ask. He said he didn’t want to talk about her anymore, and I really don’t either.

“I had my brothers pick up your car. It’s parked in the drive. They also retrieved your suitcase and other belongings from your mom’s place. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty.”

I chuckle. “Which brothers?” If I recall, the Sylvers are plentiful.

“Well.” Judd stutters and clears his throat. “My brother Sebastian didn’t always do things legally when he was younger. He owns the Curmudgeon Bakery. You might have seen him earlier.”

During the breakup scene. When the man behind the counter and I caught eyes a moment, both feeling trapped by the tension coming from the front corner of said bakery.

“And then Knox can be quite the charmer. He’s younger than me by two years but was a year ahead of you in school. He’s a firefighter and works at Sylver Seed & Soil like me.”

I remember Knox. He dated a girl from my grade named Halle Reynolds at the time.

Judd pauses again. “But I think the real smokescreen in retrieving your things might have been Ford. Who doesn’t want a professional sports star and hometown hero to show up at a local garden party?”

My mother would have absolutely been starstruck by the famous baseball player.

Judd clears his throat again. “That might have been when the not-quite-legal activities took place. Sebastian collected your things.”

I laugh at the thought of three grown men distracting my mother and guests to steal my belongings out of her home.

“What did you tell them about me?” How did he convince his brothers to gather my things?