He finally comes out of the room and looks the other direction before turning my way and seeing me. A smile comes a second later, and it’s so reminiscent of the ones he used to give me that my stomach whirls with a sudden hope that maybe, just maybe . . . I watch as he approaches, his eyes never leaving mine and his smile growing with each step, and just when I’m sure my chest might explode from anticipation, he’s in front of me, way too close for a man who has asked me to keep my distance.
“Bryson, I’m—”
His fingers tunnel through my hair as hot, eager lips swallow the words I’m attempting to say. I wrap my arms around his neck, ignoring the fact that we’re in a hospital hallway and just one door over there’s a steady beat of someone’s heart monitor. His hand slips behind me, bringing me closer. I press in, the yearning of days without him burning, the fear I’d lost him dissolving.
The release comes slow, neither of us wanting to let go. He touches his forehead to mine. “I love you, too.”
Relief courses through every electrified nerve. “You got my message.”
“Yeah. I got your message.” He pulls back and his smile melts into my skin. “Though I’d planned on telling you in a much more romantic setting. Obviously, Charlie had other ideas.”
My cheeks warm, embarrassment catching up with me. “I’m glad. The last couple of days have been really hard . . . you know, wondering.”
“I’m sorry.” He brushes my hair away from my face. “I promise I wasn’t avoiding you. There were just some things that needed to happen first.”
And that’s the cruelest reality of all. Our second chance comes on the eve of his new tour.
“When will you be leaving?” I ask, trying to sound happy for him.
He smirks at me, his brow lifting in that arrogant peak I’ve learned is all part of his charm. “Cameron, Jay, and Harrison are leaving tonight at seven. I, however, am staying right here.”
I back away, struck by what he’s saying. “What do you mean, you’re staying? Charlie said you got a record deal.”
“Black Carousel got a record deal. I’m just no longer a part of the band.”
I can’t process what he’s telling me. “How? I mean, what label would sign a band that has no lead singer? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You and I both know Cameron was never meant to play backup to anyone. He’ll carry the band without me just fine. And the label, well, they weren’t happy about it, but money talks, and I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“What could you possibly have given them?”
“Not given them,” he clarifies. “I sold the rights to my songs, all of them, with the caveat that Cameron sings lead. Including ‘A Decade of Love.’”
My heart seizes in my chest. “No. You didn’t. Bryson, that song is going to sell a million copies. It’s a guaranteed hit.”
“Let’s hope so, because I’m banking on a really fat royalty check.” He chuckles, and I cover my face with my hands. It’s not possible. No one gives up this kind of opportunity. Bryson lifts my fingers away, and my eyes plead into his for this not to be true. “You seem very distraught over my staying. Call me crazy, but your voicemail sort of implied you wanted me to.” And now he’s teasing me.
“This isn’t a joke, Bryson. I can’t let you walk away from your dream.”
“Black Carousel has never been my dream. Not even close.” He takes my hand and sweetly kisses my knuckles. “Do you know why I picked that name? Because I was surrounded by darkness, stuck on a constant loop of anger and rebellion. It was me; it was my music. It was the only expression I had of my pain. Darcy, that’s not who I am anymore.”
I desperately want to believe him. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to wake up one day and resent me for keeping you here.” I won’t replace my dependency on Cameron with a new one on Bryson. It isn’t fair to anyone. “You don’t have to stay for me. I’ll wait. Gladly.”
“And I love you for saying that.” He leans down and kisses me, soft and gentle. “But do you really think I would even consider leaving with Charlie lying in a hospital bed only two days out from open-heart surgery?” I shake my head, and he rubs the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “‘A Decade of Love’ is my swan song. When I stepped onstage Friday night, I knew it was for the very last time.” He winks at me. “Getting the call that the love of my life loves me back, well, that was just a nice bonus.”
I throw myself into his arms and laugh. A dazed laugh. I feel weightless and lightheaded from the shock of it all.
Bryson chuckles as he kisses my hair. “You going to be okay?”
I nod, my face pressed into his chest, and pull myself together. “Yes, for the first time in a long time, I think I’m going to be just fine.”
Our arms stay wrapped around each other as we walk back down to Charlie’s room, Bryson no more eager to let go than I am. “Best to tell him the good news slowly. I don’t want his heart rate to spike all of a sudden. The guy’s been a mess since I told him we broke up.”
I squeeze his waist and glance up at him. “He’s not the only one.”
Tenderness fills his eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t much care for it myself.” We stop in the doorway, Bryson blocking my entrance. “Is your mom still doing Sunday night dinners?”
I nod, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “Tonight was going to be my first one back, but I can postpone the reunion.”
“Actually, I was thinking you could add a plus one. I mean . . .” He shrugs, and it’s adorably insecure. “You’ve met Charlie and Zoe. Seems only fair I’d get to meet your family, too.”
I don’t miss his underlying request. Am I ready to give him everything this time? No holding back parts of my life. If we do this, we do it all the way. I lift on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “I’d love for you to meet my family. But be warned. They’re sort of wacky right now.”
“Yeah, well, whose isn’t?”
As if on cue, Charlie grumbles from his bed. “Are you two going to stand there making out all day or come in here and talk to me?”
We both burst out laughing and walk inside to let Charlie know his little matchmaking scheme worked.
thirty-eight
Sunday night dinners have become more than a family ritual confined to two parents and two kids. They now include Bryson, Michael, often Zoe, and even Charlie has been coerced into joining us on occasion.
It’s been three months since the first time Bryson walked into my childhood home, quickly overwhelmed by the lavish affection my mom is known for. Now he’s the one who initiates hugs and starts fights with her over guests doing the dishes.
I lean back in the reclining chair by the pool. It’s a beautiful October day, hot enough for shorts, yet cool enough that by evening we’ll all need a light sweater.
Michael is by the grill, a new one he bought a couple of months ago. It’s happened slowly, but I now see all the wonderful traits my mom saw so early on. He still isn’t charming and is quite possibly one of the most awkward small-talk initiators in the universe, but he listens well. He truly cares about people and is completely selfless with his time and energy.
Bryson comes over with a platter full of marinated chicken and takes up the space next to the man I’m currently analyzing. “Liz says she needs a ten-minute heads-up for the asparagus.”
“No problem.” He uses tongs to place each piece of chicken on the hot grill. “How’s the new class going? Any luck getting the grant you applied for?”
Bryson took a full-time position as the music director at the elementary school by his house, and I swear he’s the most dedicated teacher I’ve ever met. In only a few months, he’s revitalized the practically nonexistent music program, and if the grant comes through, he’ll have instruments for all the kids.
“Not yet. We’re hoping to hear something by Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, those recorders we got have been game changers. They love playing them.”
“Oh, that’s great news.”
Bryson wink
s at me, because we both know exactly who supplied the recorders.
That’s the other thing about Michael. He’s very generous. If that’s because he has money to toss around, I don’t know. Michael never talks about business or income or status like my dad always did, but if a concern comes up in conversation, it’s a guarantee that a few days later, an anonymous gift will find its way into the hands of those who need it. In this case, a shipment of a thousand brand-new recorders addressed in care of Bryson Katsaros. A gift Michael denies he had anything to do with, though I stumbled upon the receipt in one of Mom’s drawers days afterward.
Michael closes the lid to the grill and says something to Bryson I can’t hear but assume it’s related to me, because Bryson quickly catches my eye and then looks away. He nods and takes Michael’s place as chef.
I sit up, as it’s obvious something is going on. Michael is walking my way and biting his nail.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?” he asks, blocking the sun.
I stand, and his face comes out of the shadows. “Yeah, sure.” We’ve come to the point in our relationship where there’s mutual respect, but deep, private conversations haven’t really been established yet.
“Could we go into the living room?”
I nod, feeling an even wider pit growing in my stomach. Michael takes the lead, holding the glass door open for me when we enter. I can hear Mom when we pass by the kitchen, stirring something on the stove and listening to her favorite music station.
Michael walks over to the love seat and pulls out a box from under the cushion.
I blow out a breath because it’s the kind of box that holds diamond rings, often worn on a very important finger.
He sits nervously, and I join him, feeling exactly the same way. “I know you and I had a slower start, but I hope these past few months have let you see how much I truly do love your mother.”
“Yes. I can tell you do.” He adores her, dotes on her, listens to her, and jumps from his seat the minute she needs something. I reach out my hand. “Can I see it?” He gives me the box, and I open it slowly, knowing that doing so will once again change the life I’ve gotten used to. Inside is a ring that feels very much like Michael and my mom. It’s a simple gold band with a traditional cut diamond in the center. No frills, no excess. I close the lid and hand it back to him. “She’s going to love it.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask for your blessing, but I don’t want to walk into a new marriage with any dissent. Relationships are hard enough without inviting fractures early on.” He stuffs the box back in its hiding place, and I wonder how long it’s been there. “So, if you want me to wait, I can.”
I’m assuming, since it’s down to me, that the others involved are on board. No surprise there. Dexter has loved Michael since the beginning, and based on Mom’s replay of meeting Michael’s daughter, he’s not the only one who adores her. I take another deep breath before I answer. It’s a lot of pressure, his question, yet I also respect him for it. He could have just as easily proposed without my input or agreement. And maybe that’s why I don’t hesitate.
“You have my blessing, Michael. Completely.”
He exhales as if he’s been holding his breath. “Thank you. I promise I’ll love her more than my own life.”
I smile at him. Somehow, I know that he will.
Michael stands, though I remain planted since I don’t want to engage in some weird congratulatory hug. “I’m going to check on the chicken.” He steps around my legs and past the couch.
“Hey, Michael.” He pauses and turns back to me. “When are you going to ask her?”
His eyes get that dreamy lovestruck look. “Wednesday. On her birthday.”
“Good choice.”
He remains standing there until the air grows awkward and then excuses himself again.
I stand and walk to the mantel covered in family pictures that long ago quit showcasing my father. Soon Michael will be up here. Probably his daughter, as well. A whole new life. I stop in front of the 8x10 photo of Cameron and me that has to be at least ten years old. We’re in the backyard, his arm slung over my shoulder, and we’re laughing.
Hands sneak around my waist, and I lean back into Bryson, welcoming the warmth and security I feel in his arms.
He kisses my neck and squeezes me closer. “You okay?” He must have known before I did what was going down in here.
“Yeah. I think so. Michael’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is.”
We stay there silent for more than a few minutes, and I love that we don’t have to fill the room with words. Cameron’s face stares out at me, his eyes squinted, his dimples deep. It’s been three months since our fight in Zoe’s apartment. Three months of pure silence. But even though we aren’t speaking, I still think of him. Wonder if he’s doing okay and if he’s pleased with the life he’s chosen. Mostly I wonder if there will ever be a day when we can be friends once again.
“What’s on your mind?” Bryson asks like he knows. And maybe he does. My eyes haven’t moved from staring at the picture of me and Cameron together.
“I’m just wondering if he’s happy.”
Bryson turns me around so we’re facing each other. “Of course he is. He’s living out his dream.” He smiles at me tenderly, and I want to melt into the hardwood floor at my feet. “And I’m living out mine.”
I lift my eyes to the man whose face I see in every picture of my future. “No regrets?”
“Not even one.” Bryson wraps me in a hug and kisses my forehead. “You, me, a family one day. Kids jumping on Charlie’s back and calling him Papa. Maybe even a big house like this one where we’ll host our own Sunday night dinners, with I’m sure a dozen rambunctious dogs barking in the background.” He chuckles, and happy tears spring to my eyes. “That is my dream, Darcy. Don’t ever doubt it.”
I place my palms on his cheeks and once again thank God for this amazing, loyal, kindhearted man whom I never would have known if I’d gotten everything I asked for.
Somehow, against all odds, my worst-case scenario has turned into a bright, wonderful future.
Acknowledgments
I’m not sure if it was coincidence or providence that I wrote and edited this book during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. In a flash, our world was completely upended, and fear gripped me in ways I never expected. The church my husband and I work at closed its doors for the first time ever and went strictly online, myself and my husband both got sick, his reaction especially hard and lingering for weeks, my children suddenly required virtual school assistance and dealt with their own anxiety about school closing, and I watched as too many of my dearest friends buried their loved ones. Worst-case scenario was suddenly alive and right in front of me. But like Darcy, it was in those hard moments when God did His greatest work on my heart.
I pray you saw the beauty in Darcy’s story. How with each dog she saved, God was right there, saving and loving her in the exact same way. Thank you to all who read these words I poured my heart into. And I especially want to thank those who made this book, maybe even my most favorite one to date, possible:
To Raela Schoenherr and all the Bethany House editors and staff, thank you for your guidance and push for excellence. Darcy’s story would have been significantly less without your feedback and direction.
To my former agent, Jessica Kirkland, thank you for helping me sort out the right place to start this story and for all you’ve done along the way. I know your time as an agent has ended, but I will forever be grateful you were once a part of my writing journey.
To my amazing writing partners—Connilyn Cossette, Christy Barritt, Nicole Deese, and Amy Matayo—thank you for walking through so many iterations of this story. And for the weekend-long phone conversations as I plotted and replotted and replotted again. You pushed me to trust my instincts and I’m so very grateful.
Finally, to the most important people in the world, my family. This one was hard on all of us.
Thank you for allowing me to disappear for entire weekends as I struggled to get words on paper. To my husband especially, thank you for carrying the burden of life on those days when there was already so much on your very strong shoulders. You are my rock, my best friend, and I love you so very much.
Tammy L. Gray lives in the Dallas area with her family, and they love all things Texas. Her many modern and true-to-life contemporary romance novels include Love and a Little White Lie and the 2017 RITA Award–winning My Hope Next Door, showing her unending quest to write culturally relevant stories with relatable characters. When not taxiing her three kids to various school and sporting events, Tammy can be spotted crunching numbers as the financial administrator at her hometown church. Learn more at www.tammylgray.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
List of Pages
1
2
Love and the Silver Lining Page 32
