by Garren, Jax
He was coming to her. Were people watching? Probably. She didn’t care. “Winter Wonderland” started on the stereo, a waiter put a drink in her hand and there was nothing wrong with being at some old house belonging to Lincoln Bryant.
“What are you doing here?” The voice brought her happy moment to an abrupt halt.
Her heart lurched as her mouth went dry. Slowly she turned, watching carefully for a reaction. “Nice to see you too, Lincoln.” She smiled in satisfaction when her ex couldn’t help looking her over with his jaw unhinged. The right dress was worth its weight in platinum. A gulp of champagne. She could handle this. Not just because Brett was on his way, although that did help, but because she was strong enough.
Or that was the plan, anyway.
“I…” He shook his head, his manners returning. “Welcome to the house. No, welcome back to the house. I’m glad you could make it.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth, like he always had when thrown for a loop. She’d found that particular move endearing when they were together. Judging by the softness in her heart the motion inspired, she still did. Finally he smiled up at her with a warm, if tired smile. “Wanted to see the old place, huh? You know you could’ve just called. Saved the ticket price.”
Carrie frowned. Same old Lincoln, circling around her lack of money. “I didn’t come here to see the house.” Her cheeks warmed and she took a sip of her drink to hide her discomfort.
He looked confused. “Really? Because you didn’t go last year, so I assumed you came because it was here and you wanted to see…” he stammered to a halt.
She sighed. “Do you see Eva here?”
Lincoln looked around. “No. Oh! You’re here on assignment. For the paper.” He sighed in relief. “Well, have a good time! If there’s anything we can get you or…” He waved a hand in a meaningless gesture.
“No, it’s okay, I don’t need anything.” Not anymore, she thought with a pang. A delicate blush crossed his tan cheeks as he shoved his hair back into place. At least she wasn’t the only one having a hard time with their reunion.
His earring caught the light, a silver stud that set him apart from the traditional set. He also had a tattoo of a dragon on his right shoulder and kanji on his left wrist, hidden by his watch. She’d always loved that little wild streak in him. It was what had first attracted her, the way he braved and bluffed his way through life, this rich kid who could pay for anything he wanted, but liked fighting for things anyway.
No, that wasn’t right, though. Lincoln didn’t fight for things. He just liked yelling at the darkness. It made him feel like a rebel.
He shuffled back and forth a few more times before blowing out a soft sigh and smiling wistfully at her. “You look amazing, Carrie. Really, you do. Welcome home.”
She ducked her head. Insults and witty banter she could handle from him. Honest niceness? She needed to walk away or damage the best eye makeup she’d ever applied. “It’s been a long time since this has been home, Lincoln.”
“Yeah, well, if you want to walk around later, I can show you the whole place again. If you want to see what we—what’s changed.” He sounded earnest, even excited about the idea as the momentum in his voice escalated. “A little memory lane for old time’s sake. Some of the colors you and I painted are still here.” The old heart-melting grin surprised her with the power it still held.
No. She was supposed to be immune. After what he did, she should be immune.
“God, that was fun. Painting with you. I’ve got a lot of good memories of us, Carrie. I know things ended…well…” Was that regret in his eyes? She’d spent two years thinking he’d never looked back. “I’m glad you came.” He held up his elbow. “Tour the house?”
She was tempted. She loved the house, and maybe Erica hadn’t messed it up too much. And this Lincoln? This friendly person with hope in his eyes and a spry step? This wasn’t the man who’d walked out. This was the guy she’d fallen for. It was who he’d been for most of their time together. They’d had a lot of fun. Dinners and trips and quiet evenings at home. They’d been amazing until…until they’d tried to get pregnant, and her body had betrayed them both.
For the past two years, the memory of how it’d ended had overshadowed those joyful years, but seeing him again brought all of it back, the good as well as the bad. She reined in tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes. “A tour sounds nice.” It did, didn’t it? She’d decided to face this place again and let go. A house tour would be good for that. They could be adult about their past, let go of the anger and be civil with each other. A couple more glasses of champagne, and she thought she could do that. Holding onto her anger didn’t help her move on. She took another sip. “I’d better let you circulate now, though. I don’t want to take up too much of the host’s time as everyone’s arriving.”
Lincoln smiled happily. “Then stay late! We’ll wander. Oh, you should try the little fish thingies, they’re right up your alley.” He leaned over and, to Carrie’s horror, planted a kiss on her cheek before striding off to slap an old fraternity brother on the shoulder.
She backed into the dim light of the hallway, her cheek tingling from the touch and her lungs aching like an asthma attack. With one hand, she fanned herself as the other lost hold of her wine glass. She grabbed for it and missed, then shut her eyes for the embarrassing crash.
But none sounded. Instead, an arm encircled her, a hand put the glass back into her fingers, and a kind voice whispered in her ear, “You look magical.”
The smell of pine soothed her. Brett. Opening her eyes, she found herself inches from his smile. His shoulder was firm and comforting, so she leaned against him as she retaught herself to breathe. He must have seen the whole thing. How embarrassing. Was he angry? “Brett…”
“Your ex?” His voice was light, but it sounded intentional. For once he was trying to hide his feelings, and it worried her.
“Yeah. I used to live here. First time back in two years, since we separated and I moved out.” It felt like cutting into herself to talk about it. But tonight wasn’t going to be easy. If her behavior was erratic, Brett needed to know it wasn’t him.
“You okay?” He squeezed her tightly to him for a wonderful moment.
Finally she managed, “I’m fine,” with a voice that barely shook. She set the glass on a side table and took his hands. Brett kept a neutral face as she tried to find the words to explain what happened. “It’s not that I want Lincoln back. I never wanted him to come back to me.” She licked her lips and squeezed Brett’s hands for strength. He squeezed back, and the gentle pressure helped her go on. “I wanted him to never have left. Desperately so. I felt so broken.”
And now Brett would leave, too, because she was an emotional mess, and why would anyone in his right mind put up with that? He transferred both her hands to one of his and his palm cupped her jaw. She darted her gaze up to his face where a confusion of emotions so varied she couldn’t guess at them struggled for dominance.
Her breath came out loud and shuddering. Whatever he was going to say, she wished he’d get it out.
“Thank you for telling me.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “Why?” Why would anyone want to listen to her whine about her past?
He tried again. “Thank you for trusting me that much. I won’t let you down.”
A weight she hadn’t even realized she carried lifted from her back. Not only had he listened, but he wasn’t going to judge her for it. He was staying. Her heart pounded as a feeling more powerful than she’d thought herself capable of sparked inside it. It wasn’t a full-blown fire yet, but with time and the right fuel it would become one. With her confession and his acceptance, things had changed between them. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
His eyes gleamed. “Yeah, I know.”
She laughed. “You’re also an arrogant prat.”
He kissed her hair, and the casual affection from him felt good. “Everyone’s amazing in their
own way.” He frowned. “Scratch that. Everyone has amazing in them. Some people don’t live up to it.” His sourness sounded like jealousy, and she thought he might be referring specifically to Lincoln.
How human of him. She ran her hand down his shoulder, as if smoothing ruffled feathers. “Well then, you have extra amazing in you.”
His good humor came back. He took criticism well, but it seemed he didn’t mind an ego stroke, either. Was it possible he was nervous about tonight, too?
She took his arm and turned toward the party. They should get into the thick of it. She had an article to write and he had…whatever it was he was doing here. What was he doing here?
As they started for the stairs, Brett spoke again. “I know you have work to do, but I can stay with you as much as you like. I wouldn’t mind in the least.”
“About that. You implied you had a job, too, but I don’t see you carrying trays. And what is this suit, silk?” Now that she had the wherewithal to study it, his suit was as soft and rich as it had looked from a distance. His green bow tie appeared to be silk, too, and was definitely not a clip-on. More than the suit, though, the way he carried himself down the crowded staircase had a confidence just shy of swagger, like he knew he belonged here.
“I do have a job. I’m just not working tonight.”
“Brett Vertanen! There you are!” shrieked a woman behind them.
He winced. “Or not working much, anyway.” He winked at her and whispered, “Once more unto the breach.” But when he turned them around, his demeanor had altered to pleasant and professional disinterest. "Good evening, Wanda."
What the heck?
A woman drowning in chiffon waddled over, two other biddies in tow.
Brett smiled graciously as they crowded his space, attempting to shuffle Carrie out of the conversation. But Brett held her firm, tucking her tighter to his side.
The leader’s bloated smile softened even as her eyes turned flinty. “Who’s your guest?” Carrie found herself critically and curiously surveyed until the woman stiffened in recognition. “Oh. Miss… Dear me, I don’t believe I know your name now.”
Carrie knew the women by virtue, though she hadn’t remembered their names, either. Charity mavens did a lot of good raising money for various causes. In person, they were sometimes less kind. “Carrie Martin.”
“That’s right. I apologize, I always thought of you as Mrs. Lincoln Bryant.”
Carrie’s plaster smile turned brittle and threatened to crack. Brett stiffened.
The woman added insult to injury by rubbing her arm like they were friends. “How does it feel to be back around the old house?”
Carrie shrugged her shoulders, shooting for nonchalance. “Erica’s taste is interesting. That tree is right out of a catalog. Oops! I mean a magazine. Has she been photographed?”
The woman pursed her lips. “Have you seen her yet?”
“No.”
“You’ll have to find her before you leave. She’s looking positively radiant.”
All Carrie needed was to talk to a radiant Erica. “I’m sure she is.”
The woman turned back to Brett. “Brett, dear, I’ve been trying to get my daughter Lucy in to see you for weeks, but you’re impossible to locate around the holidays. She’s being taken for a fool by some musician and doesn’t see it. Of course, I’m sending her to you to fix it. Children. What can you do?”
Carrie wasn’t positive, but she thought Wanda’s daughter was an adult by now, and the woman had no business interfering. And what was Brett supposed to do about it? She glanced at him, trying not to blink and betray her confusion. Maybe he was a hit man, and Wanda was sending him to off the déclassé boyfriend.
She almost giggled at the thought. Yeah, right.
He clucked his tongue and shook his head sympathetically. “So sorry, Wanda. You know how busy the season gets. And the Geirson estate has been taking up much of my time.”
Estate? No, really. What the heck?
“I forgot you’d been put on that kook’s caseload.”
“Handsome kook,” another woman pointed out.
Wanda harrumphed. “Well, do be a dear and find room for Lucy.”
Brett nodded indulgently. “Call up Cindy and have her make room on my schedule. Things should be clearing up within the next two weeks. I can’t guarantee anything until after I hear her complaint, but I’ll listen.”
“You are a dear!”
If Carrie heard the word “dear” one more time…
Brett turned his feet toward the bar. “I’ve promised to get Miss Martin a drink, so if you’ll excuse me?”
They nodded diamond smiles at him and venomous ones at Carrie as Brett escorted her away.
“Is Geirson here?” Carrie heard Wanda ask. “We should find him! That boy’s got a great tush.” The women giggled and then were out of earshot.
Carrie leaned up to whisper, “What was that about?”
Brett shrugged and continued toward the satin-coated drink table. “I told you I worked for the Bar.”
Carrie stopped, halting Brett with her. “You’re a lawyer?” A mighty successful one, too, it seemed.
Looking a little embarrassed, he nodded.
“I thought you were an elf.”
“Can’t I be both?”
“Not normally, no.”
“Well, pick the one you like best and think of me that way.” He tugged her toward the punch again as he added, “Though I’d rather you think of me as an elf.”
They reached the green and ivory draped table, and Brett poured her ruby punch from a bone china bowl to a crystal glass, rich to rich to rich. Just like he, apparently, was. She didn’t know how to feel about that turn of events. It was almost disappointing.
“What about being a caterer?”
Brett sighed and fixed himself a cup of herbal tea. “It’s hard, you know? I do want to be a caterer. And sometimes I think I’d be happier. But it’s hard to give up steady work and”—he motioned around the floor—“all this. I never had anything like it growing up.” He looked thoughtfully down at his tea. “It’s why Ryssa and I didn’t work.” The quiet way he said it made her think Ryssa’s defection was far more compelling to him than the silk suits and parties. “And some of my clients really do need me. I draw a large enough clientele that I can pick to work with whom I choose and tell the rest to leave. I don’t know.” He looked deep into her eyes, as if her answer mattered. “Do you think I could make it as a caterer? I have enough saved aside to get started, but there’s no guaranteed income and that’s…terrifying.”
He meant it. On a gut level it scared him, and given the things he’d said about his past, his fear made sense. Still it floored her to hear that Brett had insecurities. He’d been a vault up until this point, unbreachable. Sympathy made her take his hand and squeeze. She hoped the pressure gave him the same peace it had given her when he’d taken her hand earlier.
He blew on his tea and didn’t meet her eyes, but his hand clutched hers back.
She didn’t know what to say to him, though. It was one thing to tell an out-of-work actor to go for it. It was another to tell a wealthy lawyer with financial insecurities to quit his day job. “I think you’re talented enough. But even with talent, it’s a risky career.”
He nodded. “If I knew I could make a reasonable living…” He let her hand go to stir his tea, gaze flicking from her to the spoon as he spoke. “I just met this great girl, you see, and I’m not sure quitting my job to chase a crazy idea is the best way to start things off with her. I told her I’d be a good boyfriend, and I keep my promises.”
Did he emphasize the “I” just a little? Trying to prove he was different than Lincoln, maybe? He didn’t need to do that. She knew. She took his tea away and set in on the table so there was nothing between them.
He watched it go with a frown, but his attention came back to her when she put a hand on his shoulder.
“Brett, I think any girl great enough to deserve you wou
ldn’t want you to be unhappy. She’d talk about it with you, help you weigh the pros and cons and support your decision either way. It’s not an easy one to make. But neither course is wrong.” She squeezed his shoulder and looked away, feeling shy. “Me? I’d stay with you if you quit. I went from this house to a studio apartment on the east side—and I’m not talking the trendy, gentrified part—because I’d rather be poor than take my ex’s pity money. There are a lot of things in life more important than ‘all this.’ Most things in life are more important.” She looked up at him under her lashes, wondering how he took her words, ready to turn away if she’d misread and her input was unwelcome.
His relieved gratitude sent a glow through her. Not only was her input welcome, but she’d made him happy, something he’d been doing for her since they’d met. It was nice to manage the reverse. “You are something else, you know that?” he asked.
He made her feel like she was.
He picked up his tea and took a drink. “I haven’t made a decision yet. And one of my clients might kill me if I quit, so…”
The glow shrunk. “Actually kill you?” He was teasing her again. Right?
Another one of his sly smiles. “Yeah. He’s a vampire. The one that got me drunk the night we first met? Cash Geirson’s older than he looks and surprisingly hard to say no to. Even for an elf.” He ran a finger down her arm, and the cool touch made her skin prickle with awareness. “Don’t look so worried. I wouldn’t work for him if he was one of the bad guys.”
Brett had a smile on his face, but his tone wasn’t exactly kidding. She didn’t know if she should laugh or be afraid. “Elves and vampires. You live in a different world than I do.” She believed him when he said he wouldn’t work for a bad person, so whatever “vampire” meant to him couldn’t be that bad.
He brushed a lock of hair away from her face then tugged it gently, watching the curl bounce back into place. “Same world, we just see it differently. There’s a band in the next room. Would the prettiest girl at the party dance with me?”
