Page 82 of My Favorite Mistake

Something about the way he said it felt like an accusation, and Liza winced. “I thought you’d left with the woman you said you were meeting.”

“Well, before I did, I saw everything.” He dropped his arm at his side and hitched his shoulders. “You’re getting there. It’s happening. And what that means is this ugly shit is going to keep coming up. He’s going to tell you all his ugly secrets. And then you’re going to have to tell him yours. But when it’s all said and done, you’re going to haveexactlywhat I know you both want. Getting there is going tohurt, but it’ll be worth it.”

It all hurtway too muchalready, and tears slid out of Liza’s eyes. “How do you know that? What if it’s just another nightmare all over again?”

Brennan sighed and closed the distance between them. He framed her face with his hands, tilting her chin up exactly how he’d done with the woman who just left, and Liza braced herself.

Was Brennan about tokiss her?

That certainly wouldn’t help any of this.

His somber gaze held hers, and he slid his thumbs below her eyes, wiping her tears.

“Sweet L. My sweetest friend,” he murmured like he was talking to himself, and then hedidkiss her. But it was just a gentle kiss pressed to her forehead and nothing more. “I just know,” he said more audibly, sliding his hands to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a hug while he rested his chin on her head. “You gotta trust me. I’ve watched him suffer with missing you for ten years. I love him, L., and I love you, too, and I can’t even remember the last time something was this important to me.”

Sometimes Brennan could be so altruistic that some small part of Liza wondered if he said and did all these selfless, compassionate things to hide a deep, dark secret.

She wasn’t really in the mood to psychoanalyze him and rested her cheek against his chest while slipping her arms around his waist. But she also couldn’t help asking, “Why is us getting back together so important to you?”

“I just think…” He paused and sighed. “If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s two people who have been through the kind of shit y’all have been through. Because as awful as it was, it was obviously no match for love. And love is something I really,reallywant to believe in. I need to believe it really can overcome insurmountable odds.”

“But why?” Liza picked up her head to look at him. “Who was that woman anyway?”

Brennan met her gaze and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “She wasn’t you.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead and then stepped away from her, crossing the large room to the adjoining kitchen. “And I did give you my word that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. That includes cancelling my evening plans at the last minute to make sure you’re okay. And right now…” He emerged from the kitchen holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. “I think you need to drown your sorrows in Ben and Jerry’s.”

Liza offered a weak smile, and Brennan sat on the couch, setting the ice cream on the coffee table. He patted the seat next to him and held up one of the spoons, and she crossed the room to sit down next to him.

“B., don’t take this the wrong way,” she began after he’d peeled the lid off the ice cream.

“You’ve said that before, and I hardly took it the wrong way at all,” he said, sliding the ice cream toward her.

Liza scooped a spoonful and pointed it at him. “I realize you were minutes away from sleeping with that woman, but I gotta tell you…”

Brennan coyly arched one eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You’re kind of like my best gay friend who happens to be straight that I never realized I needed.”

He squinted incredulously for a second before he shook his head and chuckled.

“I mean, you know what I mean,” Liza added defensively, then stuffed the spoon of ice cream in her mouth. “You just turned down getting laid to share ice cream with me because I’m sad.”

“I do know what you mean,” he said sweetly, bumping his shoulder against hers. “And I’m perfectly happy being your best gay friend who happens to be straight.”

22

French Quarter, New Orleans

“Everybody!” Jimmy shouted at the top of his lungs, standing in the center of the Copper Monkey bar. “Raise your glass!”

A few patrons not part of the Frenchmen Street family raised their drinks along with Liza, Connor, Brennan, Frankie, Carson, Luke, and the handful of various members of the label’s street team. Oscar stood next to Jimmy, hands folded in front of him and chin turned down so that his dapper hat hid his face.

“You know,” Jimmy went on, “I remember the first time I saw this fine young man play. I remember Connor dragging me over to Vaughn’s because I justhadto see this phenom. And it was a Monday night, and I was just wanting to go home to my red beans and rice!”

The group chuckled, and Connor clapped his hands and gave a shrill whistle. Oscar grabbed the brim of his hat and tugged it lower as he shook his head, and Liza couldn’t restrain her grin at him.

“But I’ll tell you what!” Jimmy went on. “Soon as this youngin’ took the stage, I was gobsmacked. I couldn’t believe it. And I really friggin’ hated that cocky ol’ Connor was rightagain.”

“Yeah you right!” Connor hollered. The group laughed again, and Jimmy raised his eyebrows, pointing his glass at him.

---