“What?”
“You don’t think you fell in love with him, do you?”
“No,” I shoot back too quickly.
She slaps her palm against her forehead. “Didn’t we go over the rules of the rebound? No falling in love, Brynnie. Oh my God.”
“I’m not in love with him,” I huff. Even I am not convinced by my tone. It’s a thought that’s crossed my mind a time or two over the last few days, but I’ve scooted it right back out.
Presley doesn’t respond. Just watches me.
“I’m not, Pres,” I assure her . . . and me. “I don’t know him enough to be in love with him. Lust? Yes. Absolutely. Love? No. No way. How can I be in love with someone I met a few days ago? That’s impossible! That’s stupid. No one does that. No one falls in love right away.”
“Tell me the story again of how your parents met and, you know, fell in love.”
I glare at her, shooting the sharpest daggers I can manage right into her skull.
“I’m not saying you are in love with him, Brynne. I’m just saying that maybe this was a guy you feel like you could’ve fallen in love with. And now you’re a little heartbroken, which is totally understandable under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“That he’s a fucking ten in every category.”
I roll my eyes. “You aren’t helping here.”
“I knew he’d have a magic stick. I have to say I’m impressed he was a wizard all around.”
“Oh, Pres,” I giggle, Fenton’s invisible touch gone with her silly words. “You’re nuts.”
“True,” she grins in victory of distracting me. “Okay, you go to work and do your bookstore thing, and I’ll grab some expensive wine and we can just drink the night away.”
“I’m sure you’d hate that,” I laugh at my wine-loving friend.
She clutches her chest. “It will be torture, but I’ll do it for you.”
I lift off the bed and start the search for the purse I take to work when the doorbell rings. Presley stands and heads towards the hallway.
“I’ll get it,” she says.
“Expecting someone?”
“Maybe,” she sings. “I was with this guy a couple of days ago and he’s been threatening to show up and fuck some sense into me if I don’t return his call. So, naturally, I’m not returning any of his calls. Or texts.”
I locate my purse under a pile of sundresses I discarded when packing only because it starts ringing. I see my father’s number and my heart leaps into my throat. “Daddy?”
“Hey, Brynne Girl. Did you make it home?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”
“It’s fine. I’ll let your mother know. You know how she gets.” He takes a long pause and I wait. He has something else to say, I can feel it through the line. “Grant came by here yesterday.”
“He did?” I sit on my bed and wait for him to reply.
“Yeah. He was really shaken up.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing much. I let him hang around for an hour or so then told him to hit the road unless he had something to tell me and he said he didn’t. But I think he did. I think he was going to tell me something.”
“About Brady?”
“I guess. He was just so odd, even for Grant. I know things between us are strained, and he isn’t the little boy I carted to baseball practice years ago. But there’s no comfort level anymore. It’s like he feels guilty and won’t tell me why, and I finally just told him to go so I didn’t wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until he got it off his chest.”
I sigh. “Mom can’t handle you in prison.”
“I can’t handle me in prison. I’d be no good to any of you there.”
We sit on the line quietly. I watch the tree sway in the breeze outside my window.
“Has he contacted you?” Dad asks.
“Presley said he came by. I wasn’t here.”
“I want you to be careful with him, Brynne. Don’t see him unless you’re in public, okay? He’s driving a new BMW SUV. Where’d he get the money for that?”
“I have no idea,” I breathe, feeling a sickness sweep over me.
“Me either. But there’s something going on with that boy, and I don’t want you alone with him. You hear me?”
“I do.”
“If you do, like I said, do it in public. Be safe about it.”
“I will. But I have to go to work now. I’m going to be late.”
“Go. We’ll talk soon. Love you.”
I stand and head to the door. “Love you, Dad.”
Thud!
The stack of books comes crashing down, smacking me in the head and shoulders as they barrel towards the floor.
“Ouch!” I yelp, shielding my face from the onslaught of paperbacks. The thundering stops and I open my eyes to see a chaotic scene in front of me. Romance stories are scattered everywhere, stories all ending in a happily-ever-after. The irony is not lost on me.