Casanova

“I don’t know, but you’re going to tell me when we leave here.”

“Fair point.” He placed his hand over mine and wrapped his fingers around my palm. “I’m really glad I brought you here today.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.” He lowered our hands and then cupped my chin. He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Because right now, you’re looking at me like you don’t hate me as much as you did an hour ago.”

I glanced down and then looked away from him.

“Lani?”

I reached up and pressed my lips against his cheek. His stubble was rough against my mouth, but I let my touch linger for just a second before stepping back. “I don’t.”

His eyes held mine for an uncomfortably long second. Zings of something unidentifiable shot up and down my spine, and I took in a deep breath, because in his eyes, the asshole Brett was completely gone.

Right there, in that moment, he was my Brett.

It took everything I had to blink back the unwanted emotion and bury it again.

Two gentle knocks echoed from the door. We both turned at the same time.

Sali looked between us with a questioning lift of an eyebrow. “Sorry. Stephanie wanted to come down and see before everyone else got here. Sy’s still in the games room.”

“Sure.” Brett smiled. “Come on in.”

“Come on, honey.” Sali placed a hand against the back of a woman whom I couldn’t see.

When she came into view, I swallowed hard. She was obviously pregnant, at least six months, and she had a hand rested on top of her stomach. She held herself timidly, and she was tucked carefully into Sali’s side.

Sali was a pillar of strength for her as she led her across the main room. Stephanie, as I assumed the other woman was, glanced a few times at Brett, but she didn’t say anything as she looked around the room. A tiny smile spread across her face as she took it all in. Jake had apparently done a great job with the balloons, and although we still had tons of decorations to put up, she looked as though she loved it the way it was.

“Come outside,” Sali said quietly. “Sy’s present is waiting for him.”

I turned and watched as both women went outside. Brett stepped up next to me and took a deep breath in. All I could do was touch his arm, so I did. I hooked my hand around the crook of his elbow and squeezed lightly. He didn’t look at me, and seconds later, I found out why.

A loud gasp came from the porch.

Brett stepped forward, toward the open doors, and waited in the doorway.

I shifted just enough that I could see.

Stephanie was being held up by Sali. She had her hand covering her face, and her tears, although quiet, were still audible to me. My heart clenched in my chest at the sight of this beautifully pregnant woman crying because her son’s biggest wish for his birthday had been fulfilled.

And Brett was the reason why.

Stephanie turned toward Brett. She was shaking, and the tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice scratchy and hoarse. “Thank you so much.”

His smile was gentle and honest. “It’s my pleasure.”

She hesitated, but then she threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest.

When he wrapped his arms around her, I had to look away. Everything in me wanted me to cry, wanted to watch just how tenderly he held her, but I didn’t need to see it. I could feel it. I could hear it. In her sobs and his calming ‘ssh’ as if he were soothing a crying child with a grazed knee.

Another strip of hatred folded into nothingness.

God, he wasn’t perfect. No, he wasn’t even close. He was so wonderful, though. Even despite everything. He had a heart of gold beneath all his bullshit.

“That’s the first time she’s spoken to him,” Sali whispered, now right beside me.

I blew out a quiet breath and looked at her. “Really?”

She nodded, her lips turned down. “It takes time for them to trust anybody, especially a man. You’d be surprised how many times the first words he hears from a new resident is ‘thank you.’“

I finally looked up.

Brett held her hands and he looked as if he was saying something important to her.

No.

I imagined most of them said ‘thank you’ to him before anything else.

I wasn’t surprised at all.





“Why can’t I have a turn?” Brett said to Sy.

The little boy shook his shaggy black hair. “Because you’re too big and I have to race Eliot now.”

“He’s right, Brett,” the little boy I now knew as Eliot said. “He knows I’m going to beat him.”

“Are not!” Sy shouted, pointing at him. “I’m a superhero!”

Yeah. I was right. He was dressed as Superman.

“All right, all right,” Brett said, holding his hands out. “You guys race. Shall I count?”

“No.” Sy looked shyly back at me. “I want the pretty girl with the pink skirt to do it.”

Brett peered over at me with a half-smile on his face. “What do you say, Pretty Girl in the Pink Skirt? Will you start their race?”

I laughed and joined them on the grass. “I think I can do that.” I bent down next to Sy.

His little cheeks flushed pink. “You’re pretty.”

Brett covered his mouth with his hand.

“Well, you’re very handsome, Mr. Sy.” I kissed his cheek. “I’d love to start your race.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Nobody ever kisses my cheek when it’s my birthday.”

The males here were demanding.

“Here.” I leaned around Sy and kissed Eliot’s cheek too. “Is that better?”

He blushed bright red.

“All right, stop flirting with the pretty girl,” Brett said.

“No fair,” Eliot said. “You keep flirting with her.”

“She’s the same age as me. I’m allowed to flirt with her.”

“She’s too pretty for you,” Hilaria, a six-year-old little girl butted in from where she was making daisy chains a few feet away. “Honestly, Brett. As my mommy would say, honey, you are batting out of your gosh-darn league, aren’tcha?” She punctuated that with a sassy raise of her eyebrows.

I bit my cheek to stop myself laughing at the perfect, white-blond little girl. She had that look down something fierce, and my god, the world had to be ready for that one to grow up.

“She’s right.” Eliot nodded somberly. “Why do you get the pretty girl?”

“Because he’s a pretty boy,” Sy answered.

“I’m not pretty!” Brett argued. “I’m handsome.”

Sy looked at him dryly. “So am I, and I’m seven.”

“Touché,” Brett muttered.

“All right,” I said, fighting real laughter. “Can we move on? Boys, on three. First to the beanbags, okay? One, two, three.” I clapped my hands and they both shot off down the path.

“These children kill me,” Brett whispered. “But I kinda love them.”

“Really,” I whispered back quietly. “I couldn’t tell.”

He nudged me with a quiet chuckle. “They’re so happy despite it all. I can’t help it.”

Hilaria clapped her hands. “Are you talking about us again?”