Libby: If you say so. I’d go up and check on them, just in case.
Ruby: I don’t think so. They might be making us a grandbaby at this very moment. I don’t want to risk breaking the mood.
Libby: You can’t possibly think they’ve jumped into bed already.
Ruby: Maybe not, but you can’t stop me from hoping.
Libby: This feels like highly inappropriate speculation.
Ruby: Don’t be a prude.
Libby: I’m not, but two people who’ve just met need to take some time to get to know each other before they do that.
Ruby: First of all, Addie and Brogan have known each other their whole lives. And secondly, what planet do you live on?
Libby: If this is going to turn into the kind of relationship we hope for, they’re better off taking things slowly.
Ruby: You mean like you did with Bob?
Libby: Shut up.
Brogan
I stand up so quickly my chair falls over behind me. Candidly, I ask the intruder, “Emma, what are you doing here?”
She creeps toward me like a hunter trying to get the jump on its prey. “You wouldn’t return my calls. How else was I going to talk to you?”
“Some people might have assumed that if their calls weren’t returned it was because the person they were calling didn’t want to speak to them.”
She belatedly seems to realize she and I are not alone and turns toward Addie. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating,” the sassy Miss Cooper replies drolly.
Emma addresses me again. “I thought you said she was just a friend.”
“I remember saying it was none of your business.”
Emma takes turns staring death daggers at me and Addie before finally settling her gaze on me. “I’d like to talk to you privately, please.”
Addie doesn’t look like she has any intention of getting up. In fact, she puts her silverware down and leans back like she’s watching a particularly interesting play.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Addison,” I tell her. Not because I want her to air any dirty laundry, quite the opposite. I’m hoping she’ll just turn around and finally take the hint that I’m not interested in her anymore.
“I don’t want to talk in front of her, Brogan,” Emma points at Addie.
“Then you should go.” She can’t possibly expect me to care what she has to say after all this time, can she?
Emma looks torn. She finally stands in front of me with her back to Addie. “You and I used to talk about having children. Do you remember?”
Of course, I remember. It’s a topic of conversation engaged couples regularly cover. “I don’t remember,” I lie.
“Brogan, we were good together. You have to admit that.”
“I think you’d better get yourself a dictionary, Emma. When a couple is good together, one of them doesn’t take a job across the country without discussing it with the other. They don’t cheat either.”
She has the good grace to look away when I say that. Then she seems to gather up steam and announces, “I want a baby.”
Addie full-on spits her wine across the table when she hears that.
I wipe some of it off my cheek before telling my ex, “I can’t imagine what that has to do with me.”
“I’m thirty-five years old and I’m not getting any younger, Brogan. I sat down and made a list of traits that I want the father of my child to have and you are the only man I know who possesses all of them.”
“I don’t want to have a baby with you,” I tell her in no uncertain terms.
“I think you’re misunderstanding me. I want a baby, not a father for my baby.”
“What in the hell does that mean?” I ask, totally confused.
Addie answers for her. “She wants a sperm donor.”
Emma turns around and snaps, “Stay out of it. This is none of your business.”
“Is this why you’re here?” I demand.
“I don’t want your money,” she hurries to say. “And you don’t need to be a part of the baby’s life at all.”
“Why in the world would I agree to this?” Also, what kind of man does she think I am that I would participate in creating a life and then not take responsibility for it?
“But our child could be your legacy if you want it to be.”
“Emma, if I want a legacy, I’ll create one with somebody I love.”
“You loved me once,” she says, sounding desperate.
“Past tense,” I remind her. “I don’t love you now, nor will I ever again.”
“Are you saying no because of her?” She points to Addison.
Addie decides to join the conversation and says, “I’d make a way better mom than you.”
“How dare you!”
“I dare because you appeared out of nowhere, uninvited, and you’re interrupting our dinner,” she answers. On the back of a dead stare only a New Yorker could hold, she tells Emma, “For another, I know what a wonderful man Brogan is, and I would never cheat on him.”
She makes eye contact with me when she says this, and I decide in that moment that come hell or high water I’m going to kiss Addison Cooper tonight.
“Don’t judge me.” Emma takes a step toward Addie.
Addie takes a slow sip of her wine. “You have a lot of nerve coming out here.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Emma demands as she looms over Addie.
Addie looks like she’s about to lose her cool, so I intervene. “Emma, you need to go, now.”
“Brogan, please,” Emma begs. “If I’m going to have a baby I need to do it now. I’m having some female troubles and I don’t have time to find someone else.”
“Go to a sperm bank,” I tell her.
“Brogan …” Emma sounds so pathetic I actually feel sorry for her.
But not enough that I don’t say, “Not if you were the last woman on earth and it was the only way to repopulate the planet.”
“It is because of her, isn’t it?” Emma points again at Addie.
I begin to say, “It has nothing to do with her …”
But that’s all the farther I get because Addison interrupts, “Of course it does.” Then she turns her attention to Emma and says, “Brogan knows I couldn’t possibly want to see your face at birthday parties and school functions after we have our own family.”
Even though she’s being sarcastic—or is she?—for her to even joke about such a thing makes it clear she’s thinking of me in a different light.
Emma turns her back to Addie and begs, “Please think about this, Brogan. If I ever meant anything to you, please help me.”
I just shake my head and say, “No.” I watch as Emma slinks away before turning to Addie apologetically for our dinner being crashed. Am I wrong or is there a light in her eye that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with anger?
Chapter Forty-Three
The Mothers
Libby: Do you remember that time Brogan and James put plastic wrap under the toilet seat of the outhouse?
Ruby: Which time? As far as I recall that was a pretty standard prank.
Libby: The first time, 2 a.m., when Addie was the recipient and she screamed like she was being murdered.
Ruby: Ah, yes. The people in the neighboring campsite came running and nearly shot us.
Libby: They thought we were being attacked by wild animals.
Ruby: What brought that memory up?
Libby: I might have asked Chris to help Addie get even before I left.
Ruby: Why would you do that?
Libby: I thought it would help Addie get her need for revenge out of her system so she could focus on romance.
Ruby: Libs, what have you done?
Addison
You know those bizarre dreams where you stand up in the middle of a high school football game and proceed to run down the bleachers to start cheering along with the cheerleaders? The crowd starts laughing and whistling so loudly that you loo
k down and realize you’re stark naked? That’s what I feel like right now.
I cannot believe I just told Brogan’s ex that he and I were planning to have a family. What was I thinking?
After Emma spins her car tires, tearing away, leaving us in a cloud of her dust, Brogan smiles at me and asks, “How about some dessert?” His tone suggests he has something more than food in mind.
“What did you make?” I ask, trying to get this conversation on the right track.
“I picked up some chocolate mousse from the lodge. They have a new pastry chef who’s kicking things up a notch.”
“Chocolate mousse is one of my go-to desserts. It’s great with raspberries … and cherries … and cookies …” I reason that the longer we discuss dessert, the sooner he’ll forget my comment about, you know …
“This is a bourbon chocolate mousse served with pistachio tuiles and candied rose petals.”
“Yum! Count me in,” I tell him.
Brogan clears our dishes while I try to regain my dignity. I slam back the rest of my wine and even reach over to refill my glass. Liquid courage. When he comes back, he places two beautifully decorated plates down on the table.
I gingerly pick up my spoon and get ready to fill it when Brogan says, “That was quite a conversation with Emma …”
I unceremoniously drop my spoon with a clatter on the table. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “That was a completely inappropriate comment. I shouldn’t have said anything but I really don’t like that woman. I mean, who comes groveling back to their ex looking for a baby daddy?”
“Apparently, Emma does.’
“Were you two together for long?” I ask.
“Three years.”
“I should probably offer my sympathies, but the truth is, I think you dodged a bullet.”
“I most definitely did.” He’s staring at me so intently I’m glad to be sitting down.
I hurriedly lift my spoon to give my mouth something to do other than talk. The mousse is so divine, I nearly groan out loud in pleasure as the flavors burst on my tongue. “This rivals any dessert I’ve ever had, and I’ve eaten at some pretty fabulous places.”
“The new pastry chef came from a Michelin-rated restaurant in Los Angeles.”
“Why in the world would she leave there to come here?” From what I know of the restaurant business, which isn’t much, I do know that working in a Michelin-starred restaurant is the dream no one walks away from, unless they’re opening their own place.
Brogan shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t met her yet. But a lot of people love Oregon. They don’t think it’s as backward as you seem to think it is.”
“I believe I’ve already mentioned that I have nothing against the state,” I reply before taking another bite of mousse.
“I could apologize again, but clearly that doesn’t seem to work with you.”
“Brogan, I accept your apology, I really do. But it doesn’t rewrite history. I can’t forget you did all of those horrible things to me.”
He reaches across the table and tenderly takes my hands. He squeezes them and says, “If I were you, I’d try to get even with me. Happily, you seem to be much more evolved than I am.” If he only knew.
“Childish games have never been of interest to me.” Which is generally true except for that little clam juice and honey on the toilet thing. Although something seems to be happening and revenge no longer feels as important as it did just a couple of days ago.
Is this attraction I feel so strong that I’d willingly give up retribution in hopes of something more interesting happening between us? As I contemplate the idea, Brogan scoots his chair closer to mine. The tiny hairs on my arms stand up straight like antennas looking for a signal in outer space.
Brogan leans closer to me and practically purrs, “I’m very happy that our paths have crossed again, Addison. Incredibly happy.”
“Yes, well …” I’m not quite sure how to react so I say, “It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Even if it means being stuck in a cabin in the woods for a month?”
“I love a good decorating challenge,” I tell him honestly. “The truth is, now that I have a bathtub, you’d better get your checkbook out.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“As long as you play fair, I’ve got this.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“As long as you don’t resort to previous childish behavior, I think I’ve conquered all my worries,” I explain, while purposely pushing the image of clam juice out of my brain.
“I haven’t pulled one prank since you arrived.”
“But you wagered that I couldn’t stay out in the woods,” I remind him.
“You weren’t honor bound to accept that bet.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Drat that man using logic against me at a time like this.
He leans in again and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s about to kiss me. I want him to, but I need a moment to collect my thoughts, so I push my chair away from the table and say, “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”
He waves his hand toward the outhouse. “My outhouse is your outhouse.” I take a candle off the table so I can see what I’m doing in there. On the way, I realize how badly I have to go.
Once I’m situated and get down to business, a pleasantly warm sensation hits my butt. I don’t realize what it is until it starts to run down the back of my legs to my ankles.
Oh. My. God. Someone plastic wrapped Brogan’s toilet. I am once again the recipient of the plastic wrap on the toilet gag. I have no words. Okay, I have words, I’m just trying to find them in the red-hot swirl of anger that’s forming in my brain.
Did Brogan do this? Yet why would he wrap his own toilet seat? Unless of course he did it knowing that I would use his toilet before he did. Men have the ability to pee on a tree with no additional effort. Of course, it’s just as possible that Billy did this trying to help me get my revenge.
I quickly wipe up as much of the mess as I can before pulling up my wet pants. Even before I find out the truth, I need to get out of here and change my clothes. Unfortunately, that means I have to pass the dinner table where Brogan is still sitting.
“Addie, what’s wrong?” Is that genuine concern in his voice?
“I need to go,” I tell him before turning and practically running down the path to my place. I’m so upset that I don’t immediately realize all the lanterns I bought for my cabin have been hung in the trees and are fully lit. I don’t recognize this until I step into the clearing and surprise my friend Billy in the bathtub.
Chapter Forty-Four
The Mothers
Ruby: Did I ever tell you about the time Brogan broke his leg and had to be in a cast for two months?
Libby: I vaguely remember hearing something about him falling out of a tree.
Ruby: He was trying to put a baby bird back into its nest and he lost his footing. James was a nightmare during that time. He knew he could get away with all kinds of stuff because Brogan couldn’t chase him.
Libby: Why are you telling me this now?
Ruby: I have a feeling James might be in collusion with Chris to prank Brogan. I saw my younger son this morning in a golf cart on the path heading to the fishing cabin.
Libby: And?
Ruby: There were 3 full bags in the back that look like the ones our landscape folks use to collect leaves.
Libby: Maybe he was taking up some old clothes or blankets or something.
Ruby: Really, that’s the best you got?
Libby: He’ll blame Addie. Just like he will if Chris pranks him.
Ruby: The whole point was for him to blame and confront her so they could have a heated moment that led to something more. But if too many people get in on this, it might backfire.
Brogan
What just happened here? One moment Addie and I are on the verge of romance and the next she’s tearing down the path toward her cabin. What happened inside that
outhouse? I get up to inspect the premises hoping to gather some clarity and start laughing when I see the plastic on the toilet seat.
Talk about a blast from the past, someone plastic wrapped the toilet. I can only think of one person who might have done that and it’s the same one who fed me the worst meal of my life.
The question is, why would she have wrapped the seat herself and then used it? That’s not something a person is likely to forget doing. But if Addie didn’t do it, and I didn’t do it, who did?
I should go after her, but I realize she’s probably embarrassed and wouldn’t welcome the company. I sit back down at the table and eat both desserts as it looks like that’s the only kind of sugar I’ll be getting tonight. I make a mental note to tell my mom how great her new pastry chef is. She’s well worth whatever she’s being paid.
I continue to replay the evening in my mind, spending a little extra time on the scene where Addie basically told Emma that she didn’t want their kids to share a father. This leads me to wondering what Addie’s and my children would look like. I’m assuming they’d be gorgeous like their mom, while hopefully having my aptitude for the great outdoors.
What in the world am I doing? Addison Cooper and I aren’t going to make babies together. We can’t even enjoy a meal together without something going drastically wrong. Babies are the last thing that should be on my mind.
I wonder why Emma would ever think I’d be open to having a kid with her. I feel bad she’s in the position she is, but it’s in no way my doing. Had she stayed faithful, we would have been married by now and probably already had our first child. As far as I’m concerned, she got caught up in the karmic wheel. She’s stuck in a mud puddle of her own making.
After cleaning up the dinner dishes and securing the leftovers in the refrigerator for tomorrow’s lunch, I decide to call it a night. The bedroom is small enough that I don’t need a lantern to light my way. So I disrobe and climb into bed, ready to succumb to the sandman.
I’m not even fully reclined before I know something is wrong. The sheets up here might not be the softest in the world, but they don’t crunch when you lie on them. Is that a pinecone jabbing into my back? Ouch!
Love is a Battlefield (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 1) Page 19
