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I draw a shaky breath. “Is that why Brooks sees one? Because you did?”
She nods. “That’s one thing I did right. I knew he’d feel uncomfortable talking to me, so I told him to talk to someone else. I didn’t think he would, but. Yes. He did find a therapist.”
“Maybe that’s why he felt comfortable opening up to me,” I say with a small smile. “Because he talked to them first. Well done, Mom.”
Gretchen blinks, this time because she’s crying and smiling and squeezing my hand all at once. “I appreciate that.”
“But Brooks—he is really worried about what your husband might do. Apparently he threatened him—”
“He did what?” Her eyes go wide. “James told me he didn’t like Brooks dating you. But he failed to mention he actually threatened y’all.”
I purse my lips. “Yup. Said he’d get my bakery removed from the Atlas & Teton building if Brooks didn’t stop seeing me. The bank’s employees, they’re basically my entire business. There are no other properties nearby that would work for us if we do have to move locations. To be frank, I’m not sure I could afford the move anyway.”
I expect Brooks’s mom to gasp. Instead, she curses.
“Fuck him.”
Shocked—delighted—I laugh. “No kidding.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Her hand is back on mine. “I had no idea. If I’d known, I would’ve never let him go after you like that. James isn’t perfect, but I didn’t think he’d stoop that low. I know he’s just trying to protect Brooks, but . . .”
“He’s hurting,” I say. “Brooks.”
His mom swallows audibly. She turns to look at the envelope and box of chocolates. “I’ll work on James. You and Brooks work on this fundraiser. I can’t guarantee I’ll change my husband’s mind, but I’ll do my best.” She taps her chin before picking up her wine. “I mean, there is always murder if nothing else works.”
I choke on my wine for the second time in as many minutes. “I really like you.”
She laughs, the sound loud and real and somehow familiar. “It’s a last resort. But I’m not afraid to use it.” She sips. “Kidding, kidding. Or maybe not.”
“I have a podcast I think you’ll like,” I reply.
Chapter Thirty-One
BROOKS
I stare at my girlfriend in disbelief.
“You and my mom got drunk? Together? On a Tuesday afternoon?”
Greer bites her lip as she climbs onto my lap on the couch. “Yup,” she says, and hiccups.
She’s facing me, her knees straddling my hips. Arms circling my neck.
She leans in and kisses me. Running my hands up her thighs, I taste the chardonnay on her lips.
She really was with my mom.
“What in the world were you doing at my parents’ house?”
Greer tilts her head. Nicks my jaw with her teeth. A spark catches between my legs. “I had to do something, Brooks. What if they didn’t show up to the fundraiser? What if they did, but it didn’t soften up your dad at all? Besides.” She kisses my neck, and I squeeze her hips. “I wanted to meet the woman who raised such a stand-up guy. Gretchen is a fucking legend.”
I pull my eyebrows together. Pull back so I can look at Greer. “You actually mean that, don’t you? Even though my family’s been an absolute dick to you.”
“Your dad’s been an absolute dick to me. Not gonna lie, I kind of expected your mom to be the same. But turns out she’s an absolute delight.” Greer spreads her legs and settles her center on mine, grinding against me. “She’s hilarious. And a lot of fun. I see where you get your secret silly side from.”
“I have a silly side?”
Greer rolls her eyes. “Do you not remember that time you took me roller skating? While wearing a glow in the dark necklace and a fucking great sweater? And then there was the time we got high, and you couldn’t stop laughing about Adele . . .”
“You’re cute when you’re tipsy.”
She kisses the tip of my nose. “You’re cute always.”
“My mom would be so proud of me, getting high in a hotel room with my best friend’s sister.”
Greer smiles, a crooked, adorable thing. “She is proud of you, Brooks. I am too. But really, I’m proud of myself for having the balls to knock on your parents’ door. I was so nervous I almost passed out.”
I kiss her mouth as I roll my dick, hard and needy, against her center. “My dad is . . . a strong personality. He has a tendency to bulldoze people who aren’t as intense as he is. People like my mom. I feel bad for her.”
“She doesn’t need you to feel bad for her.” Greer meets my gaze. “She needs you to support her, because she supports you. Me. Us.”
My heart swells. I’m not surprised Mom welcomed Greer with open arms. Thinking back, Mom didn’t air any disagreements with Dad out loud. But she still had ways of getting what she wanted, even if it went against Dad’s wishes. Case in point: just like Dad, she never talked about Lizzie.
