by Ellis, Aven
“Uff mam mum,” Connor squeals before plopping back down on his bottom next to me.
My chest draws tight. I realize I understand what Connor just said about as much as I do with what Sophie and Brooks are discussing right now. Brooks is now talking about some medicine for ferrets in a clinical study that he was reading about, and they’re getting into compounds, trials and phases.
Insecurity fills me. Of course, I know Brooks is very smart. I know that. But hearing how easily he can discuss his passion with Sophie makes me wonder if this is what he will look for down the line.
My stomach knots up as I remember what Sylvia said mere hours ago, as it would take someone very special for Brooks to trust with his heart.
I feel my throat thicken. Could that be someone more like Sophie, who is extremely intelligent in the sciences and can speak his language?
“You two certainly have a lot in common,” my dad interjects. “And Tanner is a contracts attorney.”
“We met in the library,” Sophie says knowingly. “Undergrad our freshman year. We were both driven to be professional successes from the day we walked on campus.”
Then her eyes fall on me. “Of course, some of us take time off before truly diving into a professional career, right, Pay? You’re kind of doing a gap year yourself right now.”
I feel like I’m in an unstable canoe right now, and Sophie is standing up, rocking it, threatening to sink me in front of Brooks.
“Payton, can you help me set up in here?” Mom calls out.
“You were saved by the bell on that one,” Tanner says, smiling at me.
Tanner can go back to not speaking as far as I’m concerned.
“I’ll help, too,” Brooks volunteers.
“No, I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile on my face. “But thank you for asking.”
I leave Connor with his truck and head into the kitchen, where I set up cups and saucers.
“Why don’t you pour the half-and-half into the china creamer? It will look nicer.”
I go to the fridge and snag the half-and-half. Mom is cutting brownies into perfect squares, arranging them artfully on a platter.
“Coffee and brownies are ready,” Mom calls out.
Everyone heads in and begins helping themselves. Brooks finds me and slips his arm around my waist, and I try to find comfort in his touch. He’s here. With me. And if he wanted to be with a science mind he would.
Unless he hasn’t put himself out there to meet one, that is.
I blink. I will my brain to turn off. I focus on the sensation of his fingertips against my dress, the way he’s right by my side. This is what I need to fixate on.
Nothing else matters.
We all sit back down in the living room, and Mom sits next to Brooks. I hold my breath. I know the interrogation will go into full swing now.
“I heard Sophie mention a gap year,” Mom says brightly. “Payton graduated in December, so we know this is kind of her gap year to find herself,” she says, as if I’m not here. “What did you do for your gap year, Brooks?”
My chest draws tight. I see where this is going. My family is going to use Brooks to try and get me to see the light about my future and non-professional job. I’m so upset I can’t even speak. The words are stuck in my throat, all jumbled up and refusing to come out.
“I didn’t take one,” Brooks says simply. “I went straight to university. I wanted to begin working with animals as soon as possible.”
“Oh,” Mom says thoughtfully. “Well, I know you can be a positive influence on Payton finding herself. I mean, Google and Microsoft are so close to here. It would be perfect for Payton to get on her feet and live at home a few months and work somewhere professional.”
“I have a professional job,” I manage to say. “Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not a career.”
“Payton’s a brilliant writer, and she’s at the beginning of a very bright career in social media,” Brooks adds pointedly. As if to tell me, I’m with you.
“They’re called starving artists for a reason,” Dad chimes in. “We don’t want our lovely daughter to starve,” he says, laughing.
“I’m not starving,” I say softly, but nobody except for Brooks seems to be listening.
“But picking up people’s mail and shredding old papers, is that really what you want to do to keep this writing thing going?” Sophie asks. “All your friends have serious careers now. Look at Marlowe, she’s with a top accounting firm.”
“And she’s miserable,” I say, finding my voice. “I have a career that makes me happy.”
“Miserable is a strong word,” Dad says, taking a sip of coffee as if we’re discussing whether it’s going to rain a lot or a little tomorrow.
“And so is calling blogging a career choice,” Mom adds. “It seems like a hobby if you have to supplement it with other jobs.”
“And it’s part of being an adult, Payton,” Dad says. “Doing things you don’t like to do. It’s responsible.”
“I’m very resp—”
“Marlowe and Whitney are both so driven in their careers,” Sophie interrupts, aiming for the jugular. “I only hope you find your drive before you’re left behind. Maybe Brooks can help you with that. Being around people like me and Brooks—well, you can learn a lot from us if you open your mind.”
All of a sudden I snap. I feel the walls closing in. I’m not an intellect like Sophie. I don’t have her professional career. Or Tanner’s. I’m not as mature as my friends, apparently.
And worst of all, they see Brooks as the man who will fix me instead of love me.
I should say all of this. I should stand up to them once and for all and quit trying to prove myself as the perfect daughter. But I can’t. My stomach is in knots and the idea of having a scene like this in front of Brooks—what is he thinking?
I glance at him, and he’s staring at me with a concerned expression on his face. I feel frozen. Is he seeing their truth instead of me now, too?
I jump up from my spot on the floor.
“I need air,” I say, hurrying from the room.
Brooks immediately rises. “Payton, wait,” he pleads.
I’m sure that’s pity I hear resonating in his deep voice, which brings tears to my eyes. I hurry out of the room and jerk open the front door, exiting outside into the misting rain. I’m barefoot, but I don’t care.
I hear the door open behind me, and I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Brooks.
“Payton,” he says as I hear his footsteps approach me.
“They want you to fix me,” I say, choking the words out.
“You don’t need to be fixed,” Brooks says firmly, putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me around. I gaze up into his brown eyes and see nothing but worry in them. “But they think they’re helping you.”
“What?” I gasp, shocked he would even go there. “What do you mean by that?”
Brooks stares deeply into my eyes. “They’re saying all the wrong things, of course they are, and it’s all from a very narrow scope of their own experiences. But they’re doing it out of love. It’s not malicious, Payton. You just can’t see it because you’re too close.”
Hurt explodes through me. The one person I thought knew me, the one person I thought I could trust, is taking their side? On something that has caused me nothing but pain?
“How can you say that?” I cry. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I am on your side,” Brooks replies quickly. “I’m only trying to get you to see this from a different perspective and I—”
“Maybe you wish I was more like Sophie,” I blurt out. “More professional. A woman with a real career and who can speak science with you.”
Brooks doesn’t flinch. “If I wanted that I’d go find it. I want you.”
“For how long? You’re already seeing their side after being with them for what, twenty-five minutes? What will happen six months from now?” I blurt out, tears
pooling in my eyes. “Will you resent that I write about fashion and candles? What Kate is wearing on a royal visit?”
Everything is tumbling out of my mouth now, but I don’t care. I’m so hurt and fearful I can’t think straight.
“You can yell at me. You can decide not to see what I’m trying to tell you. You can take out your frustrations on me. But I will not let you, for one minute, question why I’m with you and why I care about you. That’s insulting to me. I chose you. I want to be with you, and sometimes I’m going to say things you don’t like and piss you off. Because with you I’m brave enough to say them. And I’m not walking away from that. Not tonight. Not next week. And not six months from now.”
Tears fall down my face as his words go straight to my heart. Brooks hasn’t moved an inch. He’s standing here, willing to stand up and say what is in his heart, which has to be utterly terrifying to him.
And he’s not running.
I sniffle and turn my face away, and Brooks steps forward and places his hand on my cheek.
“I care about you, and your family is wrong about everything they said,” Brooks says gently, as if talking to an animal that is scared and frightened, which is exactly how I feel. “But I can see they want the best for you. Even if that is misguided and they want something that would be wrong. But someday, if you want this to end, you’re going to have to let go of this idea of proving your life is worthy to them.”
The door pops open again, and Dad sticks his head out. “Um, is everything okay?”
Brooks defers to me to answer.
“Yes,” I say. “We’ll be right in.”
Dad stares quizzically at us and steps back inside.
Then I turn back to Brooks, who is caressing my face in his hands.
“Don’t ever doubt that I’m on your side, because I am,” he whispers softly in the mist falling between us.
I breathe in the scent of fresh rain and his spicy citrus scent and the anger fades.
“I know you are.”
“And I do think Sophie does enjoy being superior,” Brooks concedes. “But my guess is that has nothing to do with your job and everything to do with being a bossy big sister.”
“Well, she’s had that mastered since age six so yes, good point.”
We both share a small laugh, and Brooks tenderly presses his warm lips against my forehead.
“I’m on your side, always remember that,” he murmurs against my skin.
Then as he draws me into his arms, I place my cheek against his heart.
This man is on my side, just as I am on his.
As long as we’re together, we can face anything.
And I know we always will be.
CHAPTER 26
Today’s plan to improve myself item: I always want to be there for my future partner. To provide support. To listen. To encourage. This is what a real relationship is, and I will strive to be this person in a man’s life someday.
Result: Little did I ever dream I would be this woman for a man like Brooks.
***
I grab a shopping cart and enter Whole Foods on Monday morning. I’ve already written today’s blog post for Payton’s Take On Kate—a schedule of her appearances this week and my promotion of my posts leading up to Trooping the Colour. I’m also going to do a post on fabulous bath finds from the drugstore, and I’ll finish that tonight for posting tomorrow on Payton’s Take on Living.
Best of all, I didn’t write them from my apartment. Or at Coffee By Jules.
I wrote them at that table for two from Brooks’ house. Underneath the wallpaper I now think is beautiful, across from the man I love.
Warmth fills me. We survived that dessert disaster at my parents, and even though I was mad at Brooks when he first shared his thoughts on my family, deep down, I know he’s right. Not that I’m ready to give up trying to prove to them my career is the right choice, but I know now that they aren’t doing this to be cruel. Mom and Dad want the best for me in their own misguided way.
And Sophie? Well, she likes being right, I think with a smirk. But even in her own annoying way, she cares. In a superior way.
But for Brooks to say this to me, to go out on a limb to help me see what I couldn’t see after years of living in it, tells me how much he cares. He told me the truth, even if I didn’t want to hear it, because he knew it would be best for me.
And while I know he’s not in love with me yet, I know he’s going to get there because of moments like this. Of Brooks putting himself out there and overcoming fears because I matter to him.
And that is what love is.
So we came home, played with our fur babies, watched an episode of Elementary on Netflix. We stayed up late laughing, talking and making love. We linked our hands and talked of things we wanted to do in the future. I felt loved and secure and life seemed full of happy possibilities with Brooks by my side.
This morning Brooks made me breakfast—this time a bowl of lovely Peanut Butter Cheerios—and brought me green tea. He dropped me off at my place and kissed me goodbye before heading off with Angus to the clinic. Although he’s on call tonight, we made plans to hang out as much as we could. I understand his career. And if that means five minutes with him, that’s okay. I’ll take five minutes with Brooks rather than twenty-four hours with a man I don’t love.
I smile happily as I enter the produce section, consulting the menu plan and shopping list I compiled for Courtney this morning. Courtney loves to cook but says time is an issue. So I asked her what she felt like cooking this week since my job is to make it easier. I’m doing the shopping this morning, and when I get back, I’ll prep as much of the food as I can. I’ll dice, chop, slice. Then I’ll put everything in containers with labels and with the day, corresponding meal, and cookbook to use with page number.
I head toward the greens and pick up a beautiful bunch of rainbow chard. Courtney was so excited by this idea, and I really hope it will allow her to indulge in her passion for cooking in a way that works for her family. I move down to find leeks, as Courtney wanted to make a pancetta, leek and corn sauté this week. Mmm. That sounds so good. Maybe she can teach me to make a meal for Brooks.
Better yet, maybe she can cook a meal I can take to Brooks, I think, grinning.
Buzz!
I reach for my phone and retrieve it out of my Kate Spade bag. As soon as I see Brooks’ name, happiness fills me.
Hope you are having a good morning Sunshine. I lost a mini pig in surgery. I tried everything I could to bring her back. I couldn’t save her. Owner is devastated. And she was a great pig mom. Tough morning.
My heart freezes. I know he’s upset if he’s messaging me. And I can’t imagine what this must feel like, to try and help an animal and you can’t. And then you have to break the news to the owner that their baby didn’t make it. Tears fill my eyes at the thought.
I’m so sorry. I know this pig had no finer care than under you, Brooks. You did everything you could. Your love for your clients is boundless. The fact that you give nervous owners your cell phone number proves that. This one is hard, but I know you’ll make a difference to another animal and owner today. I’m here for you. X
I hit send, hoping I somehow found the right words for him. I know he has a full schedule today, and I know he’ll be professional and move ahead with complete focus. But I’m so glad he shared this with me. I have a feeling that before me, Brooks would have bottled this up and moved on, keeping his sadness to himself.
But this morning he wanted me. Brooks needed me and reached out to me for support. Just like I would to him if I had a horrible day.
And once again, I’m struck with how a real relationship works. It’s like this. Sharing the good and the bad, supporting each other through it all.
Buzz!
I glance down and Brooks has replied:
Thank you. It helps to read your words. Can’t wait to see you tonight.
I respond quickly:
Me too. I’ll even make you dinner
. I promise I’ll try not to kill you.
I know he’ll respond to that, and he does.
Now that’s enticing. You’ll attempt not to end my life with your cooking. Shall I ring for pizza?
I laugh and text him back:
No pizza. I can make an outstanding prepackaged ravioli with purchased marinara. I know. You’re trying not to be awed by my cooking superpower right now.
I hit send and I know he’s going to laugh at that.
You really are my Sunshine, you know that, right?
Joy fills my heart. I’m about to reply when he sends another message.
OK must read notes for Sam the Iguana in Exam Room 2. Thank you for being my Sunshine this morning. X
I read his words over and over, right in the produce section of Whole Foods.
No, Sylvia is wrong, I think happily. She knows Brooks, but not in the way I know Brooks. His fears are on the shelf. It will take someone special for him to move forward, and he is.
With his Sunshine.
And that’s all I need to know.
***
Brooks walks into the kitchen and puts his cell phone down on the countertop. I’m standing at his stove, boiling the water for the roasted vegetable ravioli I snagged at Whole Foods today.
“Sorry about that,” Brooks says, his eyes focused on me. “The full moon is bringing all the emergencies out. Or should I say non-emergencies.”
I study him. He’s had no fewer than five phone calls tonight, but luckily he has been able to give consultations over the phone for the problems.
“What was that one?” I ask, undoing the twist tie on the loaf of garlic bread.
“A male pig named Chester who ate a box of crayons.”
“What? Do you need to go in?” I ask, alarmed. “Does he need an antidote?”
Brooks rubs his hand along his jaw, which is distracting because it’s very sexy, but I do my best to stay focused.
“No. Unless I want to watch him poop the colors of the rainbow, because that’s all that’s going to happen.”
I furrow my brow. “Rainbow poop?”
