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“The same,” Brienne butts in before I can say I’m not like him.
“But I have scarring. That’s the difference.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Gage doesn’t care about your scarring and finds you perfectly beautiful despite it.” I drop my eyes to the glass. He said as much. “Can I be candid with you?” Brienne asks.
My gaze jerks up. “Always.”
“I’m not trying to minimize anything, but your scarring isn’t that bad.” She studies my face, my jaw and down to my neck covered with a scarf. “At least what I can see. It’s discolored, but honestly, with your long hair and gorgeous facial features, it’s really not as noticeable as you might think.”
I nod, smiling in understanding at her well-intentioned words. I even make an admission. “You’re right… about my jaw and neck. I’m probably overly sensitive, and I’m so used to hiding them. The scars on the rest of my body haven’t healed as nicely. There was just way too much damage, and grafting only does so much.”
Brienne studies me. Shifting in her seat to recross her legs in the opposite direction, she says, “I’d like to tell you don’t worry about it, but I can’t. That would be stupid. I’m sad you have to worry about those things, but you have to know that stuff doesn’t mean anything to most people. Plenty of men would look past it. I’m confident Gage is just such a man. I’ve been truly wowed by his spirit on this team and the way he’s stepped up as a true leader. By all accounts, he’s as genuine as they come—a good man, which seems to be the consensus.”
I nod, agreeing. “But it makes me feel like he’s so out of my league.”
Brienne scoffs. “Nonsense. You’re out of his league, and he knows it. It’s why he sent you flowers.”
“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” I observe with a chuckle.
“On the contrary, I’m an abysmal dater and don’t have much experience at all. I don’t have time for it alongside running Norcross Holdings.”
“Sounds lonely.” I feel sad for Brienne.
Her eyes flash with mischief. “I’m not lonely.”
I frown. “You have someone?” I didn’t know she was in a relationship.
“I have someone who’s available when I want or need them,” she clarifies.
And I don’t get it at first.
Then it dawns, and I murmur, “Oh.”
She has a fuck buddy, and that makes me want to snicker, but then I want to high-five the woman. Good for her for taking what she wants.
It makes me more curious. Since I’ve been open with her, and because the few sips of whiskey have emboldened me, I ask, “Don’t you want a relationship, though, at some point? A family?”
Brienne smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Honestly… I don’t think I’m cut out for it. My life is about my work. I have very few precious hours to give to anyone else. I don’t think I’d make a very good girlfriend, wife, or mother.” She looks over at a picture of her brother on the bookshelf to her left and nods at it. “Adam was the one who was all about having a family. He wanted lots of kids one day, and I figured I’d have plenty of nieces and nephews to spoil along the way.”
“I can understand that. I have a niece, and I miss her so much. I can’t wait to have kids.”
“You’ll be a great mother,” Brienne says softly.
“I think you would too,” I reply, because while she might not have time or even want to have a family, Brienne cares about people.
“No thank you,” she drawls, shaking her head with a laugh. “I’m horrible with kids. When I say I wanted nieces and nephews to spoil, I mean by buying them stuff. Kids and I don’t connect at all.”
“Really?” I ask in astonishment.
“No real experience, but the few times I’ve been around kids, I about break into hives.”
I laugh because I know she’s exaggerating, and she grins back at me.
Brienne tips her glass and drains the rest of her whiskey. She stands from her chair, and I scramble to do the same. Her eyes drop to my drink. “Not to your liking?”
Wrinkling my nose, I shake my head. “Little too strong for me. I don’t think I have more than the few tiny sips in me.”
Chuckling, Brienne takes my glass. “What is your drink of choice?”
“Wine,” I admit.
“Red or white?”
“Either,” I say.
“I’ll get some, and we’ll enjoy it together one day,” she says as she moves over to the wet bar.
“You don’t have to,” I say awkwardly.
“Nonsense.” She deposits the glasses on the marble countertop and then faces me. “I don’t connect with many women, Jenna, but I do connect with you.”
“I feel the same,” I admit.
“Then we shall occasionally share a drink here and avail ourselves of gossip and other fun things.”
