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Brant wished he could answer that question the way Charlie wanted him to answer it. Given the concussion, he probably would’ve been in a similar state of undress even if he hadn’t had sex with Talulah. But he couldn’t deny it. That would be a blatant lie. “Can you lower your voice?” he asked. “She’s sleeping, and she doesn’t need to wake up to this.”
“You think I care if she’s sleeping?” he cried. “After what she did to me? After what you’vebothdone to me?”
“Charlie, you and Talulah haven’t been together for fourteen years!”
“So that meansyoucan move in on her? She was myfiancée, Brant. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved!”
“It’s been fourteen years! You have to get over her.”
“Why?” he retorted. “Soyoucan have her?”
“We’re not together. You’re jumping to the wrong conclusions.”
“I’m going by the obvious! And I can’t believe it. She just got back in town and you’re already sleeping with her.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t come over here for that,” Brant said. “It just sort of...happened. I came over to let her borrow an air conditioner.” He gestured at his truck. “See that?”
“Yeah, I see it. If you came over to deliver it, why the hell is it still in your truck?”
“Because I hit my head! I had no plans to... I mean, I didn’t come over here with the intention of—”
“Getting her into bed?” he finished.
“Exactly!”
“Then why did you do it?”
This was going from bad to worse. Brant had to get Charlie away from Aunt Phoebe’s house before Talulah realized he was there. “Just...stay where you are for a second, okay? I’ll be right back. Then we can go somewhere else and talk, like I said before.”
Brant’s mind was buzzing as he grabbed the air conditioner and hauled it into the house. He wanted to carry it upstairs for Talulah. He figured she’d need it most in the bedroom, and the darn thing was heavy, probably too heavy for her to lift. But at least she’d have it in the house while he dealt with Charlie. He didn’t know how long it would take him to convince Charlie to calm down, but he could try to come back later—sneak over in the middle of the night if he had to.
Setting it in the living room, he whipped around to stride back out, only to find that Charlie had followed him in.
“Seriously? You feel that comfortable with her now?” Charlie asked. “You can just...come into her house whenever you want? As if you live here?”
Brant’s clothes were upstairs and his second croissant was in the microwave, but he was willing to leave both—even his boots. Charlie was too worked up. Brant didn’t want this to play out here, didn’t want to make Talulah feel the kind of panic and guilt he was feeling right now.
“Come on, Charlie, let’s go,” he said, but Charlie’s attention suddenly shifted to the stairs as they heard Talulah say, “What’s going on?”
“I can’t believe you’d come back to town and fuck my best friend,” he snapped. “How could you do that after what you did to me?”
Talulah had pulled on Brant’s T-shirt. It was backward—she must’ve grabbed it off the floor since her own clothes were in the bathroom—but the fact that it hit her mid-thigh made it obvious it wasn’t hers.
The second she realized they had company, she stretched the soft cotton down even lower. “I didn’t come back here for Brant. I came for my great aunt Phoebe’s funeral.”
“So thatisn’tBrant’s shirt?”
She looked down. “I... I—” she started but couldn’t seem to come up with the rest of that sentence.
“Don’t bring Talulah into this, Charlie,” Brant said. “It’s me you’re mad at.”
“No, I’m mad at her, too. The last time I saw her, she was wearing my ring,” Charlie said. “I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life with her.”
“I sent the ring back to you,” Talulah said, “along with a check for the tuxedo rental and any other expenses my parents didn’t cover for the wedding.”
“You think this is about money?”
“I know it’s not. I’m just saying that I tried to make it right.”
