Drowning Erin
Page 29
There are no more 2 AM calls for either of us. Brendan finally blocked Gabi’s mother, and my father and Sean successfully completed rehab. I have no idea if they’ll stay clean, but I know I’m done covering for both of them.
Brendan once worried that he’d drag me down, the way he thought he did Gabi. But the truth is that I was already drowning—suffocated by the demands placed on me by my family and Rob—and Brendan gave me just enough air to realize it was happening at all, and to make it stop.
“You know what would make a good anniversary present?” he asks me now, sliding his fingers through mine and glancing back toward the bathrooms.
“A, we are not attempting to join the mile-high club in the middle of the day when every single person will watch us both entering and leaving the bathroom.”
“And what’s B?”
“B is that it’s not even our anniversary. It’s Will and Olivia’s. And before you start bitching, keep in mind this could be our four-year anniversary too if you hadn’t taken off with the wedding coordinator that night.”
I’ve convinced myself it no longer bothers me, but I hear a level of irritation in my tone which might lead one to think otherwise.
“I never laid a finger on the wedding coordinator,” he says. “Where’d you get that idea?”
“Rob told me,” I say, realizing that yes, even after all these years, I’m still upset by it. “I was completely devastated. I went to my room afterward and cried myself to sleep.”
His jaw clenches. “Erin, I waited. I waited and waited, feeling like an asshole, until I got a text from Rob saying he’d finally gotten you to come to his room.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed. “He walked me upstairs and dropped me off at the door.”
Rob played us both. He knew, even back then, that there was something between us, and he went out of his way to make sure nothing came of it. We sit in silence for a moment, undoubtedly thinking the same thoughts: what might have happened if it had gone another way? Where would we be right now?
“I should probably thank him,” Brendan finally says.
“What?” I demand. “He kept us apart.”
“He did us a favor,” Brendan replies. “I was too young, and you were definitely too young. It wouldn’t have lasted.”
“Maybe. But I still feel like he deserves to be punished.”
“I think that’s been taken care of,” Brendan reminds me, referring to how poorly things have gone for Rob since our break-up. Apparently his fling with Christina began long before they left for Amsterdam, and she wasn’t the only woman at the office he was sleeping with. When Christina found out, she and the other woman both claimed they’d been sexually harassed. I have no idea if it’ll hold up in court—probably not—but since both women reported to him, it’s unseemly enough that he’s been asked to resign regardless.
“I still wish you’d kicked his ass at some point,” I mutter.
Brendan laughs low, under his breath. “That’s been taken care of too.”
“What? I don’t remember you being in a fight.”
He smirks. His cockiness hasn’t diminished one bit since we got together. “It probably wasn’t obvious to you because when I get in a fight, I don’t lose.”
“But when? I can’t believe it happened and I’m just learning about it now.”
“About an hour after you told me the shit he said when you broke up with him. He called you a whore. Did you really think I was going to let that slide?”
I shake my head and smile to myself. I remember thinking Brendan seemed unusually calm when I told him. Now I know why.
“Anyway,” he continues, “it’s all worked out for the best. I’d gladly give up a couple of years with you, if I’m getting forever in exchange.”
“Forever, huh?” I tease, leaning against his shoulder.
“Yeah, smart ass,” he says. “You got a problem with that?”
I laugh. “Nope. Forever sounds just about right.”
Everyone’s on the back deck when we arrive at Will and Olivia’s. Matthew throws himself at Brendan while Dorothy leaps up to hug us both.
“Hey, Brendan, introduce us to your friend,” Olivia calls.
He scowls. “You’ve known her longer than you’ve known me.”
“Sure,” she grins, “but I want to hear you say it. Go ahead. I know it’s a hard word, but you can do it. Say it with me. Girlfriend. Guuurrrlfriend.”
“This is Erin, my girlfriend,” he says with a sheepish smile.
“Now that that’s out of the way, we’re stealing her,” says Olivia, rising to her feet. “We’re going shopping.”
His eyes narrow. “You hate shopping. And we just got here.”
She shrugs. “This was your mother’s idea.”
He turns his glare to his mother. “Take someone else’s girlfriend on your escapade. She worked all week. I’ve barely seen her.”
Olivia laughs. “Don’t you live together?”
“Yes, but…” His shoulders sag in resignation. He leans over to kiss me. “Don’t let them keep you all afternoon.”
“Wow,” says Will to Brendan as we go inside. “You’re even more pussy-whipped than I thought.”
Olivia drives to J.Crew at Pacific Place. The truth is I’d have preferred to stay back with Brendan—we so rarely get a whole day together—and I don’t feel like shopping anyway.
“I’ll just push Caroline in the stroller while you guys look around,” I suggest.
“But you’re the reason for this trip,” says Dorothy.
“Me?” I ask. “You know Harper’s forbidden me to purchase my own clothes anymore.”
The fact that I’m now her boss didn’t stop her from swiping my credit card to order me two suits last week.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t anything Harper’s trying to buy for you,” Olivia says with a wicked grin as she pulls me to the back of the store.
We wind up in the bridal department.
I look at both of them in absolute befuddlement. “For me?” I ask. “You mean…me and Brendan?”
They laugh. “Unless there’s someone else you’re seeing we don’t know about.”
“Brendan and I have only been together a few months. We’re nowhere near that.”
“Maybe you’re not,” says Olivia.
“No one is,” I reply.
Olivia smirks. “Let me ask you something—how long after you got together did Brendan start pushing you to move in?”
Twelve hours. “A while.”
“And how often does he reference wanting kids?”
Daily. I’ve never seen anyone reverse on a position as completely as he has. “Occasionally. But this is crazy.”
“No, it’s not,” laughs Dorothy. “Once my boys pick, they don’t waste any time.”
“It’s too early to say Brendan’s picked anyone.”
Dorothy smiles patiently. “Honey, he picked you years ago. He just didn’t want to admit it. And now that he has, mark my words: he’s going to move so fast you’ll wake up married one day, and you won’t even know how it happened.”
“You’re both insane,” I reply. “Next you’ll be telling me we should go look at cribs too.”
Olivia smiles. “I got pregnant on my honeymoon, so I wouldn’t rule it out.”
Exactly 24 hours later, I’m standing in front of the entire church with Brendan by my side. He’s giving me that look, the one he should not have on his face in church—especially not now, with everyone watching.
“Pay attention,” I chide, bumping him with my hip. “This is serious.”
“I’m paying attention,” he says, his eyes dipping down toward my mouth. He leans close so only I can hear. “But I’m going to do such bad things to you when we get home tonight.”
I’m okay with that, obviously.
The prayers end. Our goddaughter is handed to the priest to be anointed and begins screaming bloody murder. She might look like Will, but she’s got Olivia’s temper. After W
ill and Olivia say their part, and Brendan and I say ours, communion begins. I open the missalette for both of us, though I know for a fact Brendan will refuse to sing.
He leans down to my ear again instead. “Will told me this morning that the next baptism had better be our kid.”
I try not to smile and fail. “Yeah? And what did you say?”
“I said the wedding probably ought to come first.”
I’m smiling so broadly that I’m embarrassed for myself. “That’s usually how it works.”
“He also said I should start asking now, since you’ll probably turn me down five times like Olivia did him.”
My eyes flicker to his. “I think you’re safe.”
“Will you drag out the planning until we’re a million years old? There are some rumors that you do that.”
I elbow him. “No.”
“Are you going to refuse to put out the night before like you did last night?”
“Your mother was in the next room, Brendan.”
“Answer the question.”
I laugh quietly. “I can’t believe you’re worrying about something so far in the future.”
He turns to me, watching my face, now surprisingly earnest. “It’s not that far in the future, Erin. You scared?”
“Not anymore,” I tell him, nestling against his side. “Not in the least.”
THE END
About the Author
Elizabeth O’Roark lives in Washington, DC with her three children. Drowning Erin is her fourth novel. If you enjoyed this book, please post a review!
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Also by Elizabeth O’Roark
Undertow
Waking Olivia
Bloom
Acknowledgments
The problem with writing a book some people like is that when you try to write the next book in the series, it feels inevitable that people will hate it. That made writing Drowning Erin the most torturous experience of my life, and many times over the past 18 months I’ve given it up completely. Therefore, this book owes its existence to many, many people who are not me:
The wonderful, tireless Katie Meyer, who read all 2000 versions and made finding a title for this book into a part-time occupation.
My editor, Jessica Royer Ocken. You’ve almost got me onboard with Chicago Style. Thanks for making this so painless.
Natasha Boyd, whose suggestions made this a far better book than it would have been.
Becca Hensley Mysoor, for an invaluable final read-through.
Brooke Castillo, who talked me through my angst and convinced me that “done is better than perfect”.
Kari March for a cover I absolutely love
My wonderful beta readers: Shelby Bauer, Karen Metcalf, Lynn Rider, Laura Ward Steuart and Erin Thompson.
And last but not least my family and friends, who’ve been unbelievable during two very craptastic years. I love you guys.