Amanda’s vision blurred. “Merci beaucoup,” she whispered, and hugged Jacqueline again.
Amanda turned to Harris, who swept her up and swung her around. “You had better fucking come to LA,” he whispered. “Forget Brunzy, I need you.”
Amanda kissed his smooth, moisturized cheek. “Please don’t—”
“Not a peep! I’ll expect both of you, and I want deets on what you two do for the rest of the week, up here all alone, completely unchaperoned. I’ll be crashingly disappointed if I hear that at any point you were clothed.”
“Harris!” She raised her eyebrows high in warning. She softened her expression. “I hope at least one of your flight attendants is a hot guy. I love you.”
Tears sparkled in his tropical-ocean eyes as he said, “Then come home.” She hugged him hard.
Brushing away her own tears, she tapped Wave on the shoulder. The girl turned and threw herself at Amanda. Amanda bent and kissed her head.
“Are you coming with Daddy?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Why?” Wave’s lip trembled.
“Oh, sweetie. I have to take Edelweiss to Florida.”
“But you have to! Who’ll teach us to ride? We’ll miss you!”
“Your dad’ll find someone great. I’ll miss you, too.” She paused to collect herself. “Isn’t this Hummer cool?” She pretended to marvel at the vehicle as Wave looked in through the open door. Grady came over and whisked his youngest into his arms.
Wiping her eyes with her fingers, Amanda crossed the driveway to Solstice, who was standing off to the side, looking at the barn. “Hey, you,” Amanda said, and the girl turned and stepped into her. Solstice’s face crumpled and she cried in heartbreaking sobs. Amanda closed her eyes, bit her lip, and held the girl.
“You’re not coming, are you?”
“No, honey, I’m not. But I promise I’ll call, email, text—whatever else you kids do. I want to know how you’re doing.”
“Please come live with us. Please? You could be our mom.”
Amanda felt a tiny, clean snap, which she knew was her heart breaking. “You’re going to be fine.” Amanda hugged the girl hard as fresh tears burned her eyes. “I love you. I’m sorry I can’t come. I just can’t. Not now.” Seconds passed. “You have to go, sweetie.” Amanda broke the embrace. Solstice wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and went to her father.
Grady met Amanda’s eyes as he gathered his dark-haired daughter into his arms, spoke to her, and dried her tears.
Harris and Grady lightened the mood with some banter and good-natured insults. Jacqueline announced the time and herded everyone into the Hummer. Grady slid his arm around Amanda’s waist as they waved at the pink monstrosity rolling out of sight.
He turned to her and she saw panic in his eyes. Crap. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“You told them you’re not coming.”
“I didn’t want to get their hopes up. If I come out, it’ll be a nice surprise. Grady, please. I don’t know what I’m doing yet. Please don’t push me.” She hated how forlorn he looked.
He pressed his lips into a line. “I won’t. I . . .” He looked around as if searching for something. “Jesus, what more should I do? What will convince you?”
“Nothing. You’ve already done more—” She didn’t want to cry more, so she faced him, slid her arms around his neck, and rested her forehead against his chest. She felt him prop his chin atop her head. “Let’s enjoy these next days together, okay?”
He put his arms around her and they stood, silent and still.
That afternoon, after Grady impressed her by tacking up Titanium and Edelweiss himself, he whisked her off to the meadow where she’d given him lessons for a Harris-provided picnic. They had champagne, Colorado lamb, an arugula salad, brioches, peaches from Colorado’s Western Slope, and decadent chocolate brownies. After, they did some decadent things of their own on the soft picnic throw, starting with Grady dribbling champagne on her belly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. They were stretched out on their sides, naked, facing each other. He traced the curve of her bare hip with a fragrant sprig of wild sagebrush. A mountain breeze played over their bodies. He had been sublimely content until that preoccupied look occupied her face.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
He arched his eyebrows at her. “You don’t think I can read your face by now? Out with it.” And let it be something he could fix.
She bit her lip. “Paul bought Capitolo for me.”
“Is that some kind of pasta?” Maybe if he made her laugh, she wouldn’t look so darn worried.
“A horse. He’s won the World Cup twice, which is mind-boggling. He’s the hottest thing in the world right now, and Paul bought him for me to ride—hopefully in the Olympics.”
Grady pursed his lips. Reade was starting to annoy him. “So how much does a horse like this cost?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Ballpark.”
“Millions.”
Okay, maybe he could handle that. “How far into the millions?”
“Tens?”
“Good.” He could definitely handle that.
“Why?” She narrowed her eyes.
He shrugged. “I kinda like buying horses for you.”
Her lovely eyes went round as the huge late-summer moon. “No. Edelweiss was already too much. You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not . . . you have no . . . It’s expensive. You just can’t go around buying horses like that.”
“Paul did.” But he knew that was beside the point. “You don’t want to owe me anything, do you?”
Amanda’s mouth dropped open. Ding ding ding! He was right.
He rolled onto his stomach and propped his cheek on his palm to look at her. No use holding back now. “You might as well know that sooner or later I’m going to ask you to marry me. If you accept, you can whine until you’re blue in the face, Mortified, but I’ll buy you whatever I want for your wedding gift.”
Amanda rolled onto her stomach, stacked her fists under her chin, and stared at the blanket. “Oh, Grady,” she murmured. “You only just told me that you . . .”
“Love you?” He smiled.
“Yeah.” Her voice was shaky.
“When it rains, it pours.”
How he wished she would tell him she loved him. He suspected she did, but she was stubborn. Or gun-shy. Or scared. But he could be patient. He could wait her out.
In the meantime—and there was no time like the present—he would do things to her to ensure her libido was firmly in his camp. He slid his gaze over the beckoning curves of her back and buttocks, then propped himself above her. He moved her hair aside and nibbled on the nape of her neck. He tasted a hint of salt over the sweetness of her skin.
“How about I give you seconds on dessert? It’ll be almost as good as two slabs of chocolate cake.” She giggled as he sent his lips on a journey down her spine.
Grady loved the days that followed. He and Amanda took long walks on the property, hiked in the mountains and along the Roaring Fork River, strolled the streets of Aspen—where he tried to buy her clothing and jewelry but she kept refusing—mountain biked, looked at the stars, read by the fire, ate in and ate out, and sang at the piano.
They also made love. Everywhere, including but not limited to the barn’s wash stall—after soaking each other with the hose—in the pool, the hot tub, on the piano, in the wine cellar—where they broke several bottles of a very nice Chianti—in a cave they discovered, and on one particularly naughty night, in the bathroom of the Aspen eatery where Amanda had washed Priscilla’s feet.
Sunday afternoon arrived too quickly for Amanda. It was D-day, and her head and heart were still at odds. She told Grady she had to pack some things and called Luke to ask if he would take Edelweiss to a friend’s barn for a few days, just in case she couldn’t arrange for shipping, because she still didn’t know w
here to send the mare.
Then she opened her laptop and watched Edelweiss winning the grand prix at Devon. She watched it four times. How could she turn her back on all this? How could she let Edelweiss down, the mare that would turn herself inside out to jump clean? How could she turn down the chance to train with Paul Reade, who had already invested millions in her career? He believed in her. How could she refuse him? Surely she could fend off any of his sexual advances.
Lots of people fell in love. Only a handful made it to the Olympic Games.
“I’m going to be a little late,” she said to Grady on the barn phone.
“Take your time, but if all this champagne’s gone, it’s your own fault.” He lowered his voice. “You’re going to wear that hot little bikini, right?”
“Sure. See you soon.” She hung up.
Called Paul Reade.
Said yes. It was the cleanest, simplest, most uncomplicated solution.
She let herself sob, then ran up to her apartment while her resolve was strong. She finished packing. Most of her things were still in her apartment, despite the fact that she’d been sleeping in Grady’s bed. Twenty minutes later she threw her bags in her truck’s cab. She scooped up Tatalina and Nikolai and shoved them into their carriers, put them in her truck, and closed the door. Her legs felt like tree trunks as she walked to the house.
Amanda stepped through the sliding door to the patio for what she knew would be the last time. She wore a lavender polo shirt, jeans, and paddock boots. Her Devon hat was in her truck, but she wore sunglasses to hide her eyes.
“Where’s that bikini I’ve been fantasizing about?” Grady referred to the one piece of clothing she had allowed him to buy for her, which was, ironically, a two-piece. He poured her a flute of Pol Roger champagne.
“I don’t feel like swimming.”
He had been sitting on a chaise, but he stood when he saw her face. “What’s wrong? And if you say ‘nothing,’ I swear to God I’ll throw you in.”
She felt the temperature jump forty million degrees. She sat sideways on the chaise across from him, sipped her champagne, then set the flute on a side table. He sat again.
“I’m going to Paul’s. Today.” She tried to say it with no inflection.
Alarm flashed in his eyes.
“Oh! Okay.” He drew the word out, and the little muscle in his jaw jumped. “This is a . . . surprise. This complicates things, but we’ll figure it out.”
She gripped the chaise’s edge until her knuckles went white. “There’s nothing to figure out.” Her voice sounded absurdly calm. “I go to Paul’s. You go to LA.”
“Yeah, I get that. But I’ll come to Atlanta a lot. You’ll have to get an apartment big enough for the girls to stay. I’ll pay for it; don’t worry. And—”
“No.”
“Okay. We’ll stay in a hotel. But if I come alone, I’m staying with you. That’s non-negotiable.”
“No,” she said, louder. “You’re not coming, and neither are the girls.” Her heart beat a tattoo like a bolting horse. “We’re done. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
He stared at her and slowly took off his Oakleys. He turned his head to look at the mountains, then looked back at her. “Do you think you’re breaking this off?”
She nodded.
“Wrong. No way. I can’t keep you from going to Atlanta, but we’re not breaking up.”
“Please don’t make this worse than it is.”
“Private plane, remember? I can come whenever you have a free hour for dinner. It’ll be fine.”
“No!” She was breathing harder now. “It won’t work.”
“We’re not breaking up.” He was calm, just as he was that Sunday morning when he’d been so jealous of Luke knowing about her suicide attempt.
“Yes, we are. Please. Hear me out. It won’t work.”
“It will work. We’ll make it work.”
“Shut up and let me talk. Just . . . shut up.” She had to make him stop. He would try to talk her out of her plan, and she had to make him stop.
“Honey,” he said. “Come on. We can do this. We’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t want to fucking figure it out!”
“Hey, whoa, what’s going on with you? Why are you doing this?”
“I have to.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Why?”
She forced herself to look him in the eye. “Because my whole life I’ve had this dream—”
“Yeah, the Olympics, I know, I’m all for it. I thought you understood that.”
“I’ve worked for this my whole life. I can’t throw it away for—”
“For me? Come on. You don’t have to choose.”
“Grady, please.” She grabbed her ponytail and ran her fist down its length. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Sense?” He shot up off the chaise and stalked around the patio. “I am trying to be understanding here, but how does this make any fucking sense? It sure doesn’t make sense to me.”
She took a breath and exhaled. “If I go to Paul’s and it doesn’t work out, if I don’t make the Olympics, only one person gets hurt—me. But if you and I don’t work out, four people get hurt—you, me, Solstice, and Wave. And it would be a lot worse. I can’t do it. I won’t do it to you or to them.”
He turned to face her, five feet away. “What makes you think it won’t work out? Why do you—”
She said in a small voice, “It never has. Don’t you think it’s odd that I’m thirty-two and have had exactly one relationship, and it bombed?” She was trembling so hard, she folded her hands tightly and pressed her knees together. “I’m good at horses. I’m not good at—”
“I’m not going to dump you. Why do you refuse to believe that?”
“You can’t know that,” she blurted and jumped to her feet. “I’m not like the women you like.” She shook so violently, she had to lock her knees and hug herself just to stay upright.
“How the hell do you know? What does that even mean?”
“It means my lipstick never matches my outfit. I don’t even wear lipstick!”
“I don’t care if you—this is bullshit. God, Amanda . . . just . . . stay. Give us a chance.”
She spoke quietly. “I don’t expect you to understand, and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I hate that. You have to know I hate that. But it’s better this way. I have to go. I’ll pay you back for Edelweiss.” Her voice broke as she said, “If you hate me, I understand.”
He stared at her. “Amanda. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. And I’d bet dollars to doughnuts you love me too, but you’re too damn scared to say it.”
“I’m trying to protect you. You and the girls. I leave now, and it’s not so bad. I go with you to LA, we’re a happy little family, then it all goes wrong and all four of us are hurt. This way, it’s only me. If I don’t make it to the Olympics, it’s only me. Nobody else.”
Grady walked over to her and stopped when he was directly in front of her. His tone had none of its usual charm. It brooked no argument. “Amanda. You’re always telling me to stop being so overprotective of my kids. Who’s being outrageously overprotective right now? If I said what you’re saying about my girls, you’d be all up in my face about it. I want you to think about the summer we’ve had—all of us, not just you. Like it or not, we’ve become a family already. Remember how hard it was to say good-bye to everyone last week? Why do you think that was?
“Take your own advice. Throw your heart over the fence. Mine’s already there, so it’s not a very big risk. What did you tell me when we had ice cream that night? ‘Life is messy’? Come and get messy with me. With us. Come on, baby. Take a chance. Yes, it’s scary; I know that. I know you’re scared. But you’re not alone—I’m here.
“Throw. Your heart. Over. The fence.”
Just then the text message alert on her cell phone sounded in her pocket. Grateful for the interruption, she checked the screen. It was Solstice.
The kid’s timing was as impeccable when she texted as when she rode.
And just like that, her heart browbeat her into staying.
Amanda began to weep as she held up the screen for Grady to see. “I guess I’m staying. I guess I just threw my heart over the fence.”
“I promise you won’t be sorry,” he said as he gathered her into his arms and held her tight. A few rare tears ambled down the light stubble on his cheeks. After a few moments he looked down at her with this funny little smile. The space between his eyebrows crinkled and he inclined his head. “Question. If I can’t get Capitolo, who would you like?”
“You mean to ride?” She didn’t trust her ears.
He rolled his eyes. “No, for meat. Yes to ride, you silly . . . gorgeous . . . incredible woman.” He smiled broadly.
She grinned. “I’ll make a list. You’re gonna be sorry you asked.”
“I’ll never be sorry. Never in a million years.”
And they both knew he wasn’t talking about horses.
Epilogue
As the first strains of “The Star-Spangled Banner” wafted from the speakers around the entertainment room in Aspen Creek and the image of the American flag filled the gigantic screen, Grady reached around Amanda’s waist and pulled her close. She sighed, closed her eyes, and rubbed her cheek against the softness of his shirt. It was nice to be home after a week-long horse show.
“This is when Dad really started to lose it,” fifteen-year-old Solstice said. “Everyone in the stands thought he must really love the national anthem.”
The Brunswick children, along with Jacqueline, Harris, Alonso, and Tatalina and Nikolai were sprawled on various couches and chairs in the spacious entertainment room in Aspen Creek. Amanda and Grady stood behind one of the big couches. Ben, their black Portuguese water dog, sat next to Amanda.
“I had allergies,” Grady said to his oldest daughter.
The image on the screen showed Amanda standing on the pedestal with the other members of the United States equestrian team, her gold medal gleaming in the sun.
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