by Hope Ramsay
Uh-oh. She recognized one of those voices. Brandon was there.
She got up and tiptoed to the bedroom door and cracked it open. Andrew’s one-bedroom was pricey and beautiful, but also tiny. She could hear everything they said, and when Brandon asked Andrew to “carry his brief,” her stomach roiled. Did lawyers talk to each other this way in real life? She waited for Andrew to refuse, but instead of telling Brandon no, he agreed to do it.
What the hell? Had he been playing her all this time? Telling her one thing, while telling Brandon something else, and all the while dancing to Daddy’s jig? She slammed the door open, intent on giving both of them a piece of her mind.
Unfortunately, her stomach and her head were still coming to terms with the alcohol she’d consumed earlier in the evening. She took one step into the hallway and knew she was in trouble. There would be no dressing down or bawling out. In fact, she nearly didn’t make it to the bathroom in time, as her stomach heaved up the rest of its contents, leaving her hugging the commode while Brandon and Andrew argued outside the bathroom door.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Brandon shouted.
“Look, I can explain,” Andrew said in a tone that annoyed the crap out of Laurie because it sounded as if Andrew was embarrassed by her presence.
“Okay, but it better be good. I’ve been here for more than half an hour. When were you going to tell me that Laurie was in your bedroom?” Brandon’s voice was so laden with angry testosterone that Laurie feared for Andrew’s handsome face. A fistfight seemed like it might break out at any minute.
“Oh, for chrissake, Brandon, shut up. Laurie went out with Tobin Grant tonight,” Andrew said in that low, controlled, rational tone he always used to defuse every emotional situation.
“Tobin Grant? The asshole you hate so much from Wilson Kavanaugh?”
“Yeah. Tobin took her to the opera, but he must have fed her a lot of wine beforehand. She called me about nine this evening, before the show was finished. She had a migraine.”
“Why didn’t Tobin take her home?”
“I honestly don’t know. All I know is that she called me distraught. So I picked her up and brought her here. She was sleeping it off when you arrived.”
“Why didn’t you tell me she was here?” Brandon raged.
“I didn’t tell you about Laurie because I knew you’d react badly.”
At that moment, both men tried to enter the tiny bathroom and render aid. Laurie, who was feeling more sober and less sick by the moment, snagged a wad of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. She looked up at them. “Don’t,” she said in a raspy voice. “I don’t need either of you, okay? I can handle this on my own.” She threw the toilet paper in the commode and flushed.
She stood up and glared at Andrew, her eye sockets aching and her head still feeling far, far away. “If you want to know why I called you tonight, it was because I heard Tobin talking on the phone to someone bragging about how he was advancing his career by dating the boss’s daughter. And then he admitted that he hated opera, after spending the whole evening bullshitting me about how much he was looking forward to it.” She hauled in a breath, her outrage growing by the minute.
“Asshole,” Brandon said.
She ignored her ex-fiancé and looked Andrew right in the eye. “I’m thinking the very same thing can be said of you.”
Andrew said nothing, and she couldn’t look into those deep, dark eyes of his a moment longer. She shifted her gaze to Brandon. “My father has been pushing Andrew around, using him to get his revenge on you. All those dates I’ve been going on—Andrew set them up because Dad wanted you to realize your mistake. Andrew has been sucking up to me. Making me think he was my best friend and didn’t really agree with what Dad was doing. The thing is, it was obvious from the start that this was all about Andrew advancing his career. I don’t even know why I thought it was about something else.” Her throat closed up.
“Asshole,” Brandon said, looking at Andrew.
“Oh, shut up, Brandon,” Laurie said, right up in Brandon’s face. “You’re just as big an asshole. Maybe an even bigger one because you’re the guy who left me at the altar.”
“Look, baby, I’m really sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. But I’m sure we can work it out. And honestly, I don’t care that you’ve been dating all these guys because—”
“Stop!” She put up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. And if you’re only saying it because you didn’t like seeing me go out on dates, then you should know you’ve been manipulated. Andrew came to me a few days after the wedding with a plan to make you reevaluate your options.”
“What?” Brandon turned toward Andrew.
“Laurie’s telling the truth,” Andrew said in that infernally calm voice of his. “The plan was to make you jealous. At least that’s what Noah wanted. And Laurie is also correct when she says that I went along with it because I was worried about my job and was more interested in making partner than just about anything else.”
Laurie elbowed her way between the two men and stalked back into the bedroom, where she started searching for her shoes. To her surprise, both Andrew and Brandon behaved like civilized men and refrained from punching each other out. Instead they followed her into the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Andrew asked.
“I’m leaving. I’ll find a cab to take me home.”
Brandon, always a man of action, snagged her by the arm. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll take you home.”
She looked up into his blue eyes, prepared to yank her arm away. But the concern on his face was so familiar. Dammit, it made her feel safe. Sort of. But then the look in Andrew’s eyes made her feel the same way.
Safety was nice. But it wasn’t everything, was it?
Andrew also had the ability to make her burn. But there was no need to let Brandon know that. No need at all, especially since she’d invited Andrew in and she, herself, had insisted on no strings. Which made her wonder what might have happened if she hadn’t set those ground rules.
Nothing would have happened, and she would never have had that many orgasms in a row. So who was she to complain about the way things turned out?
“Look,” Brandon, said pulling her away from her confusion and regret, “I know I made a mistake on our wedding day. But I never lied to you, and I never cheated on you. In fact, I haven’t really gone on any dates since the wedding, to be totally honest.”
Well, that was a surprising turn of events. Poor Brandon. At least she’d had one night of unforgettable sex and had enjoyed a Cinderella moment at the Harvest Ball with a handsome man she didn’t love. It could be worse. Maybe Brandon deserved another chance.
“Okay,” she said, looking him in the eye. “I’m going to let you drive me home, but it’s just so I can save the cab fare. It doesn’t mean I’m taking you back.”
Brandon nodded. “Okay. I understand. I realize that I’ve got a lot of work to do in order to get you back.”
She pulled her arm away from him and waited for a long moment, hoping against hope that Andrew would do something or say something—anything—to stop her from leaving with her ex-fiancé.
But he didn’t say a word, and his silence was as eloquent as any speech.
And just to punctuate the point, the doorbell buzzed right as they were heading for the front door. Brandon opened it, and there stood Val with a big grin on her face and a bottle of wine in her hand.
“Hi,” she said, “did I miss the party?”
“So, just like old times, huh?” Val said as she entered Andrew’s apartment. She took three steps into the living room and stopped. “What the hell happened here?” she asked. “The place looks like one of those furniture showroom vignettes. Where’s the rocking chair we found by the road that day we went down to Fredericksburg?”
“It went into the trash the day you left. I was so angry, I smashed it to pieces. Truth is, I never liked that thing.”
“You smashed somethin
g? Really?” She seemed surprised.
He made no reply to this. On the day Val dumped him, Andrew had gone a little crazy, breaking the chair she loved as well as every single plate of the rosebud china she’d bought at some antique place. Getting that angry had not made him feel better. But it had begun the process of cleansing his apartment of Val’s decorating choices.
“I always thought you loved that rocking chair,” Val said into his silence.
“I lied. You should know that I have a hidden talent for prevarication.” He crossed the room and picked up his coffee cup and Brandon’s empty beer bottle.
“What’s the matter with you?”
He turned. “Why are you here?”
She shrugged. “Because I love you.”
How many lonely months had he waited to hear those words? He turned his back on her and walked into the kitchen, where he put his cup in the sink and the bottle in the recycling bin.
“Holy crap,” Val said from behind. “This is like one of those kitchens you see on House Hunters Renovation. Oh boy, I can’t wait to cook you a meal. How about lasagna? You always loved my lasagna. Do you have a casserole dish?” She started opening cabinets and drawers, exclaiming over the storage space, the small appliances, and the double ovens.
Andrew leaned on the quartz countertop and ground his teeth, angry that he’d let Laurie leave with Brandon without saying one word to discourage her. And then there was what she said. In the end, Andrew was really no better than Tobin.
Still, the idea of her getting back with Brandon disturbed him, even though he knew that their reconciliation would restore everything. His relationship with the guys, with his family, would all go back to the way it was.
No, it wouldn’t, he realized. If Laurie married Brandon, he’d have to play the role of best friend while he watched Brandon take Laurie for granted. He’d have to stop falling in love with her. How could he do that? There was no way back from this precipice.
“Oh, good, I found the corkscrew,” Val said, pulling him from his regrets. “Where are the wineglasses? I think we should celebrate.”
He spun around to face her. “Get out.”
“What?”
“It’s the absolute height of arrogance for you to come here tonight without calling or even asking if I want you here. I didn’t wait around for you to come back.” This was not technically the truth, but it was true as of this moment.
“Andrew, please. I made a—”
“Oh yeah, you made a mistake. You were lured by the myth of the big, strong man. Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. But as you can see, I’ve redecorated my apartment and my life. I’ve moved on, and I don’t want to go back to the way things were.”
“But I love you.”
“Well, if that’s what you call love, then I want nothing to do with it.”
“But—”
He put up his hand. “Stop. I need to make this clear, Val. I’m not your fallback guy. Just because your fantasy alpha dude turned into a nightmare doesn’t mean you can come back here and pretend you respected and loved me. You did no such thing.”
“Of course I—”
“No, you didn’t. You cheated on me, and then you dumped me.”
“But, Andrew, you know people can forgive and get back together. You tell people this all the time.”
“Yeah, I do. And most of the time it’s not possible. And when it does work, it’s because people have decided to meet in the middle. But here’s the thing—I’m not interested in meeting in the middle. To be honest, although I loved you deeply at one time, there’s someone else I care about now. And besides, I don’t think I could ever trust you again.”
“There’s someone else? Who?”
“That’s none of your business. Right now, I’d like you to leave. Please.”
Val started to cry right on cue, and Andrew had to stifle his usual reaction. Why was it that crying women and children always called him to action? He stood firm in the middle of his kitchen and reminded himself that Val had often manipulated him with her tears. Val’s sobs were nothing but a big, fake act.
He folded his arms and waited for her to compose herself. It didn’t take long before the tears dried up, and Val scowled at him like a petulant child. “You’ll be sorry,” she said.
“I’m already sorry,” he said. But he wasn’t thinking about Val.
Brandon was repentant during the drive from D.C. to Shenandoah Falls. He apologized every few minutes—for his behavior on their wedding day, and for going to Bermuda without Laurie, and for not being honest about his fears and the way the over-the-top wedding plans had fed them.
He professed his love and stupidity in alternating speeches that did nothing but inflame Laurie’s already pounding head.
When he pulled the Camaro to the curb in front of their house on Rice Street, he came to a jarring and abrupt stop and said, “Let’s elope. We could fly out to Vegas next week and surprise everyone.” He set the brake, turned in his seat, took Laurie’s hand, and kissed it. “Say yes, please.”
She studied him. He was a nice guy. Forget what Courtney said about Nice Guys, Not. Courtney was wrong. There were no perfect guys. Marriage was an exercise in compromise—something neither of her parents had ever been able to accomplish. Marriage was give, and take, and accepting your partner’s foibles and imperfections. She loved Brandon. Why shouldn’t she marry him?
He was a good man. He hadn’t cheated on her. And really, they’d been together for so many years, during which they’d fought and made up countless times. Not taking a man back after he apologized was something Mom did. Over and over again.
Besides, marrying Brandon would solve so many problems. The house would get renovated without her having to do it all. She could concentrate on her career and not have to worry about dating. She wouldn’t ever end up lonely and jaded like Courtney.
“Okay,” she found herself saying.
“You mean it? You’ll marry me?”
To her surprise, the idea of marrying Brandon wasn’t repulsive at all. In fact, her neck and shoulder muscles eased. “Yeah. But not in Vegas,” she said.
“Why not?”
Really? She’d capitulated to him and he wanted to argue? She rolled her head in his direction. “Look, I’ve got a headache, okay? Why don’t we just let things settle tonight, and you can call me tomorrow? We can go out for brunch at the Red Fern or something. We can talk, instead of yell.”
“Yes, okay, that sounds great, Laurie, really. I’ll call you tomorrow.” And then, instead of getting out of the Camaro and walking her to her door, he just sat there waiting for her to leave. But then, when had he ever opened doors for her? Just because Tobin and Andrew had done stuff like that didn’t make them better men. Neither one of them had stuck with her over the years like Brandon had.
She opened the car door. “Good night,” she said and hurried inside to her own bed, where she collapsed. Her head hurt too much for her to cry over Andrew. What was there to cry over anyway? One night together with no strings attached. And clearly he wasn’t ready or even able to settle down with someone. And Laurie knew one thing—she didn’t want to spend the next five or ten years out there dating one guy after another. She did not want to become Courtney Wallace.
With that settled in her mind, she finally fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Brandon called at 9:00 a.m. It was nice to have him back. It was comforting. It was definitely safe. She agreed to meet him at the tavern, where she ordered the Benedict Cumberbatch for a second time, and they talked for two hours, settling their dispute face-to-face like a couple of adults.
They agreed not to elope. Instead, Laurie called Courtney and discovered that the inn could accommodate a small afternoon wedding reception in the solarium the following Sunday. Laurie booked the chapel and the reception space. Courtney was curt and professional as ever, but disapproval dripped from every word she said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Edward called Andrew on M
onday afternoon and invited him out to dinner at an East Indian restaurant near the White House. Andrew didn’t think twice about the invitation because neither he nor Edward could cook. It wasn’t uncommon for him to meet up with his younger brother for dinner.
But dinner at the Bombay Club was a little over-the-top for an average weeknight. It was one of those places that catered to the K Street lobby crowd and featured raj-era decor, potted palms, and turbaned waiters. Andrew often brought clients here for business lunches because of the wide spaces between tables and the quiet, restrained atmosphere. People didn’t have to shout to have a conversation at the Bombay Club.
Which was probably why Edward had selected the place. In all likelihood, Andrew was about to be taken to the woodshed by his little brother. The guys were probably upset by what had happened on Saturday night when he’d stormed off to rescue Laurie. No doubt, Brandon had also filled them all in on the scene that had ensued.
He didn’t want to have the inevitable conversation. He wasn’t sure how he could navigate through the suddenly treacherous currents and shoals of his personal relationships. It was stunning how screwed up his world had become since Brandon jilted Laurie.
He expected Edward to be sitting at one of the two-person tables that ringed the dining room, but the moment Andrew stepped through the restaurant’s front door, he knew he’d been sabotaged. Everyone was there—Jason, Matt, Edward, and Brandon—plus they’d brought along Daniel and Roxy for good measure. All six of his closest friends sat at a big, round table right in the middle of the dining room.
As Andrew approached the table, Brandon stood up, a big smile on his face as he raised a glass of wine. “The man of the hour has arrived.”
“What’s going on?” Andrew stopped when he reached the table and cast his gaze over the group of friends and family. He loved them all. He couldn’t imagine losing them. And he’d been skating so close to that possibility the last few weeks.
“We’re celebrating,” Roxy said.
