by Penny Wylder
We end up arriving in Waterton just in time for the start of the shower. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Bryce’s family home, where the shower is being held. But it’s a gorgeous, huge house in a neighborhood set up on a hill with beautiful views of the valley laid out in front of it. From what I remember, there’s also a stunning pool in the back yard.
When we drive up, there are pink balloons and streamers everywhere. The entire house is decorated within an inch of its life. There is no second-guessing the fact that this is the place where the shower is being held.
“Let me guess,” I say. “It’s a girl?”
Bryce laughs. “Yes. How did you guess?”
I shrug. “Pure gut instinct,” I say.
Bryce leans across the center console and kisses me, long and slow, before he raises our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of mine. “The last one for a while, I suppose,” he says.
I nod. “Unfortunately. Okay, let’s go see your sister.”
Bryce gets out of the car and grabs the present he brought from out of the trunk. It’s a box that’s almost bigger than I can carry, wrapped in gorgeous pink paper. He brought it into the store yesterday and insisted on filling it with every children’s book that I recommended to him. The box easily weighs thirty-five pounds, and I’m almost jealous of this baby because she is going to have a better library than I did as a kid.
As we walk up to the house, I have to keep myself from reaching out to touch Bryce. Touching him is like second nature for me now, and it’s going to take a concerted effort for me to keep my hands off him. Especially when I know how I can touch him to make his eyes go dark and for our instincts to take over.
But as the nerves in my stomach grow, I think I’ll be okay. The mind-numbingly terrifying thought of my family finding out will help me keep my hands to myself. And the only thing worse than them finding out from us, is them finding out from somebody else.
Bryce rings the doorbell, and I stand a couple steps behind him. Inside, I can hear the chatter of voices and laughter and that soft tinkling of dishware that’s always at a party. A minute later, the door opens and Marcy squeals in happiness. She tries to hug Bryce, but the giant box he’s carrying and her hugely pregnant stomach get in the way. “Get in here,” she says. “And put that down. I thought I told you that you didn’t need to bring a gift.”
Bryce strides straight to the gift table and sets the box down. It’s easily the biggest present there. Then he turns, and gently hugs his sister. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t?”
Marcy shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing at all,” Bryce says. He then hands her the small box of place cards that I wrote out. “Here are the place cards, and do you remember Katti? Phil and Grace’s daughter?”
Marcy looks at me, and suddenly registers my presence. “Of course! It’s really good to see you. Oh man, I don’t know, how long has it been?”
“Years,” I say, “probably.”
“Katti is the one who did the calligraphy. I was going to try to do it myself, but we both know that would’ve been a disaster. Katti opened a bookstore in Boston, and while I was there I remembered she used to have a talent for it. She was gracious enough to agree to help, and so I invited her along.”
Marcy comes over and pulls me into a hug. “That’s wonderful! Of course, the more the merrier.”
Over Marcy’s shoulder, Bryce gives me a look that says ‘I told you so.’ I make a face at him.
Between us, I feel movement, and Marcy beams at me. Her hand drops to her stomach. “There she goes. Kicking again. I swear, she’s not due for another month, but she’s already dancing and wanting to be out in the world.”
I laugh. “I think my mother would tell you that I was the same way.”
Marcy sighs. “Well, at least someone has some sympathy for me. The food is through there, and you can meet everyone. It’ll be a few minutes, and then we’re going to play a couple party games. After that, we’ll open the presents. But feel free to just chill and hang out.”
I smile at her. “Thank you.”
We all walk together through the doorway into a large space that I remember is the main living room when the furniture isn’t completely rearranged. As well as a table heaping with food, there’s multiple tables with chairs. And a girl I don’t know is putting the place cards on those tables.
The next thing I notice is that everybody in the room is a woman. “I never thought to ask,” I say softly to Bryce. “But are you even allowed at this baby shower? Isn’t it typically a female only type thing?”
He smirks down at me. “I suppose traditionally it is, yes. But I’m excited to be an uncle, and I wouldn’t let anything keep me away. I’m impervious to your American stereotypes.”
I smile back, trying not to let too much show. “I’m going to get a drink now,” I say. “Make sure you behave.”
“Me?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m always on my best behavior.” He winks before walking away.
I don’t move immediately. Instead, I watch him go up to Marcy and slip his arm around her shoulder, hugging her in a brotherly fashion. Their relationship seems sweet. It’s good that they like each other. I’ve known some adult stepchildren who hated one another, but it’s never been that way with Marcy and Bryce.
Instead of fighting each other, they bonded together to fight the world. He’s very protective of her. And there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s going to spoil her daughter. It makes me wonder if he wants kids. It’s something we haven’t talked about, and not a thing I thought to learn before. I want them, and just the idea of having kids with Bryce suddenly has me misty-eyed.
Get it together, Katti.
I shake my head to clear away the unexpected emotion and try to focus. Looking around the room, I don’t recognize anybody. Maybe a couple of girls that look vaguely familiar. Maybe they went to my high school? But it’s been so long now that I don’t remember their names. Oh well.
Slowly, I make my way over to the drinks table. The road trip was really fun, and I’ll make the best of this party. He’s happy, and that’s important to me. But I can’t just only talk to him, or people will get suspicious. And because I don’t know anyone, starting up a conversation is bound to be small talk.
But that’s okay, we still have the drive back together, and I’m looking forward to more of Bryce’s singing antics. And perhaps another stop at a diner. Yes, please.
I am pouring myself a drink—just a soda—when I overhear people whispering behind me. “Who the fuck is that?”
A second voice replies. “That, my friend, is Bryce Hamilton. Marcy’s older stepbrother.”
“She has a stepbrother?” A third voice asks. “Jesus, if he was my stepbrother, I think I’d ignore brother part. I mean…no blood relation, right?”
The three of them laugh together.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hotter person in real life,” the first voice says. “What else do we know about him?”
I can almost imagine the smirk on the second woman’s face, and I can hear it in her voice. “Well, this isn’t going to make him less hot for you, but he’s British.”
That makes me smile. Because it definitely makes him hotter—not that he needs any help in that department. At all. Bryce is just barely in my line of sight, and I can see his profile. He’s gorgeous. And from here I can see the way his pants cup that stellar ass of his and I have to yank myself back from dirty thoughts so I can keep listening.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” the first woman says. “British guys are so hot.”
“I am not kidding,” Voice two replies.
“Hmm,” says voice three. “How old is he?”
There’s a light giggle from the first woman. “I don’t give a shit how old he is. Fine is fine.”
“I know this is a baby shower,” the third woman says, sounding dejected. “but the baby’s not here yet, right? Mayb
e we could have some kind of strip show?”
The second woman gasps. “You’re so bad! He’s not going to put on a strip show for his sister.”
The first voice again. “No, of course not. She meant privately. I would prefer it be me, just the two of us, in a room upstairs. I’ve never in my life hit on someone at a baby shower, but I’m pretty sure that’s going to change. If both he and I…disappear for a while, you’ll know where I am.”
The second voice snickers and the third voice suddenly sounds curious. “But in all seriousness, do we know if he’s seeing anybody?”
“I don’t know that,” voice two says. “but last I heard, he’s been single for a long time.”
Jealousy is a strange feeling. I’m not used to it—not comfortable with it. Just like I was jealous when I thought about Bryce being with other women before me, I’m suddenly jealous of these women thinking that he’s free for them to take. Like he’s on sale.
Bryce would never cheat, but I don’t want this. I want everyone to know he’s mine. Even if that’s not possible. Fuck.
“In that case,” voice one says, “I think I’ll shoot my shot, ladies.”
“Actually, he’s off the market.” I say, turning to face the three women. Shit. You should not have opened your mouth, Katti. Why did you do that?
All three of the woman startle, like they had no idea I was close enough to overhear them. And then, with a comically in-sync motion, they all look me up and down. They’re all older than I am, but only by a few years. And beautiful, too. If Bryce weren’t with me, I imagine they might have a chance.
“And how would you know that?” the woman with long blonde hair asks. She’s the first voice—the one who was about to hit on Bryce.
Shit. What do I say to that? I open my mouth, and the brunette speaks as if I’m not there. “She can’t possibly.” Then she looks at me. “I’m Marcy’s best friend, and I’ve literally never seen you before, so the only way you could know that Bryce Hamilton isn’t single is if you were dating him.” She rolls your eyes. “Now stop being a petty, jealous bitch, and go away now.”
Oh. She thinks I said it because I want him and not because I already have him. I suppose there are worse things. But the third woman is studying me, looking at my face. “Are you dating him?”
I see the possibility sink in to the brunette and her eyes go wide. But before I can protest, I hear laughter. Marcy is at my side. “Don’t be ridiculous, Shelby. This is Katti, she’s an old family friend. This is Shelby, my best friend Jenna, and Myra. But honestly, you three are absurd.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I lie.
Jenna raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “She didn’t answer the question though, did she Marcy? Are you dating Bryce?” Her tone is disgusted and aggressive, the way she’s looking at me confirming that she doesn’t think I’d ever attract his attention.
“Stop being stupid. Katti is way too young for my brother. He would never date someone that’s younger than his baby sister. Stop terrorizing the poor girl.”
Jenna is still pinning me with a glare, but the other two shrug and walk away, champagne glasses in hand. “Don’t mind them,” Marcy says. “They didn’t mean anything by it.”
I blink. “It’s fine.”
Does she think that I’d be offended by the idea of being with him?
She rolls her eyes. “I swear, what my brother does to women. The very idea that he’d date someone half his age is laughable. And gross. I’ll make sure I give them a talking to. If they’re too young for him, they don’t need to ask stupid questions about people who are even younger.”
Someone across the room calls her name, and she flits away, completely unaware of the knife that she’s just plunged into my chest.
Coming here was a dumb idea.
In fact, it might be the single stupidest idea that I’ve ever had in my life.
Laughable. Gross. Absurd. Stupid.
Those are the words that were used just now. That were assumed because of the difference in our ages, and it was just in reference to the idea of our being together. Not the reality. The reality would be far, far worse. They’d look at Bryce and see some kind of creep—or a monster. They’d look at me and see an idiot or a victim. And gross would be the kindest of the words that they used.
I was right.
Suddenly, it feels like the room is closing in on me. I need space. Air. I make it to the front door before the tears hit, welling up from a place I’ve been pressing down and trying to ignore. But it’s there and it’s real. I have everything I want and I can’t have it. Because the world will think we’re awful and ugly and we’ll lose the people we love.
I open a ride share app on my phone, the need to leave so strong I swear I can feel it gripping me around the ribs.
“Katti,” Bryce calls from the front door. I look before I can stop myself, and he sees my face. It’s too late, and he comes for me, almost running. “Katti, what’s wrong?”
He catches my shoulders in his hands and moves to pull me close, but I resist. “We can’t do this,” I say, my words watery with my tears. “We can’t.”
“What happened? A minute ago you were smiling. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened, Bryce,” I say, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. “Just… what’s going to happen if we let ourselves go through with this? Our families will flip out. It’ll be an explosion bigger than the Montagues and Capulets. I don’t know why I was so stupid.”
Bryce shakes his head, but he doesn’t reach for me again. “I don’t care about that,” he says. “I’ve told you. I care about you. We’ll make it work.”
“We can’t. You know it deep down, and I do too. I could never live with myself if you lost everything because of me, Bryce. I should have known that it was too good to be true.”
“Katti,” Bryce says, his eyes wild and his voice desperate. “Don’t do this. I don’t care about any of it. Nothing but you.”
I close my eyes, and look away. “I know you think you do. But that’s easy to say when we’re alone and nothing is going wrong. You won’t feel the same way when my father is screaming at you for ruining his daughter and calling you a monster. You won’t feel that way when Marcy doesn’t let you see her baby because of me.”
At the curb, the car I called pulls up.
He pulls me to him before I can push away, voice fierce in my ear. “That won’t happen. I won’t let it. Katti, please.” His lips connect with mine, and in my weakness, I let myself take one last kiss. I can’t stop myself. I want it too much.
“Let me go, Bryce,” I say.
He does, but his eyes are full of pain. “Don’t do this.”
I force myself to smile through the pain. “One of us has to.”
And then I walk away, even though it feels like knives are carving into my feet with every step. Even though I can feel his gaze on my back like a magnet trying to pull me back. Even though it feels like I’m tearing my own skin off my body. I get into the car.
“Train station, please.”
And it’s done. I don’t let myself look back.
11
Last week seemed like it was the brightest week that I’ve had in my entire life. This week is easily the darkest.
Bryce calls. He tries. But I don’t answer.
Every little reminder of him is like a fresh punch in the gut. The clothes he left behind. The toothbrush on my sink. The scent of him on my sheets.
But at the same time, I can’t bring myself to move them or get rid of them or wash them. Because then he’ll be gone completely.
This feels like when I left Waterton all over again, except this time, it’s worse. This time I know what I’m missing.
Elle knows immediately, and when she asks about Bryce, I tell her not to bring him up. Ever. And she does what she does best, she distracts me. I throw myself into work and the store. I swear that it’s never looked better in the last few years. I clean e
verything from top to bottom. I take care of invoices and orders as they come in. Everything is perfect and running smoothly.
Until I remember that he’s gone. I lost him and left him, and everything is utter shit again.
At least Ursula understands. In that way that animals do, she senses when I’m down and is with me the second I come home, curling up with me when I watch TV and following me when I go to bed. Her fur has been wet with my tears, but all she does is purr and snuggle closer.
Days pass, one after the other, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever come out of this. It shouldn’t be this hard, right? I got a taste of what I wanted and it’s not meant to be. I’m a big girl. I can look back on the happy memories and value them for what they are. I need to pick myself up and get over it.
Or that’s what I tell myself.
Because it’s just not that fucking simple.
It never is.
It’s Saturday when the phone rings. I’m still in bed. I don’t move to answer it, because I think it’s Bryce. He’s still trying to call, though not as much as he did the first few days. But glancing at the caller ID, I see it’s not him. It’s my mom.
I pick up. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey sweetie. We haven’t heard from you in a while so I thought I’d call and check in. Say hello.”
“I’m okay,” I lie.
“That’s good to hear. How’s my kitty?”
My mom and Ursula have a fun relationship. She spoils her and always asks about her kitty. If I gave her half a chance, she’d steal Ursula right out from underneath me. “She’s right here, snuggling with me.”
“Make sure you send me some pictures later,” she says.
“I will.”
I can hear my mom smiling, and some rustling in the background as she works on whatever task is at hand. It’s rare that she sits still, especially when she’s on the phone. “I did call to check in, but I have great news to share, too.” Her obvious happiness and enthusiasm make me feel better. “What’s that?”
