I’m about to unleash a tirade when he says the only thing that could give me pause in a moment like this.
“Katherine, think about your options. Your time has run out here. Besides”—he lifts a judgmental brow—“it’s not like your guy here is going to turn down the offer he got for the farm.”
Time stands still as I process those words.
“Ho—how do you know?” I stammer. “How do you know about that?”
His lip quirks up in an amused grin. “What do you think?”
My eyes narrow as I take in his confident posture on the bench. The wide spread of his legs. The way his arm is casually draped over the back.
“You’re buying a lavender farm?” I can’t help the surprise in my voice.
“Why not?” he whispers, clearly not wanting Brady to overhear. “If this is what you want, yes, I’ll buy it for you, and you can play Holly Hobby for a few months until you start working on Mitchell’s campaign in the fall.” His eyes travel over me in a way that I used to appreciate but that now skeeves me out. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” He winks, and I want to knee him in the balls. “Mitchell remembers you. I just spoke to him last week. He’ll take you any time, but you have to be ready to go in September.” He waves a lazy finger around in the air. “So maybe you can get this out of your system in the meanwhile.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I genuinely like it here? That I enjoy the day-to-day things I do on the farm enough to not want to go back to politics?”
He laughs so hard, it startles me. “Get serious.”
“Do you just throw money at all of your problems? Was that what you were planning to do if I really had been pregnant? Just throw money at me until I did what you wanted?”
That smirk slides off his face. “I would’ve taken care of my responsibilities. Besides, I distinctly remember you telling me you never wanted kids. That is, until you thought you were pregnant.”
“I didn’t want a baby, but there was no way I was getting an abortion because we messed up. Because it was inconvenient,” I hiss. Because he didn’t think it would look good for his father’s campaign.
“We messed up?”
“Yeah. We. Because maybe you could’ve mentioned the condom broke that last time we were together.”
His nostrils flare. “You were supposed to be on the pill.
“I got food poisoning. I threw up for forty-eight hours straight. I was freaking delirious. Sorry if I forgot to take my pill or threw it up.” Honestly, I don’t even remember. It was hard when my face was planted on the cold bathroom tile.
What I do remember is being alone. That Eric was too busy to stop by to check on me even though I told him I thought I needed to go to the hospital. Eye-opener number one.
Eye-opener number two came a few weeks later when I realized I hadn’t gotten my period, and my supposedly devoted boyfriend, who claimed he wanted to marry me, flew into a fit of rage and refused to talk to me.
So yes, I fucking left all the shit he got me on his front porch. And I underscored my animosity by quitting my job so I wouldn’t have to see him again.
I was here with Mel and Cal when I started spotting.
My eyes well with tears. For my friends who took care of me. For the loss I felt when I realized the baby was gone.
Eric sighs deeply, like the memory of what happened inconveniences him, and then he motions behind him toward the house, “Well, looks like you got what you wanted anyway. And hey, you got the baby minus the stretch marks. Convenient.”
I stare, not quite believing what he’s suggesting.
Pendejo.
“I’d rather slum it with Brady than do anything with you,” I bark. “You think you can just get everyone around you to do what you want. Well, guess what? I can’t be bought.” I lower my voice. “And if Brady decides to sell the farm, that’s his business. You and I are still done.”
“Look, Katherine, there’s no need to be a bitch,” he sneers as he leaps off the bench and stalks toward me.
The front door swings open with a bang. Our heads turn to find Brady glaring at Eric, who is frozen mid-stride. Brady has put on a snug black t-shirt, but with those tats decorating his arms and muscles bulging, he looks like a formidable opponent. He’s bigger than Eric. Taller. Broader. There’s no contest. If they face off, Brady will kill him.
“Kat, are you okay?” he asks, looking every bit the badass biker. I nod, not wanting him to get caught in the senator’s crosshairs by fighting with my ex. Eric’s not worth it.
Eric rolls his eyes. “She’s fine, asshole. Go back to digging your ditches.”
I’m so mortified right now.
Brady steps closer and brushes his thumb across my cheek. I automatically lean into his palm. And in that instant, all of the sadness I’m feeling, all of the heartache, dulls slightly, and I can breathe again.