Page 86 of The Marriage Deal
I agree, “It is. Was. Willow—that’s Dakota’s mom. Anyway, she had him a couple years before Mom had me. We were raised together. We played and fought just like siblings. We’ve always been so close…”
“What happened?”
“They were coming home from a date one night with my parents. Nan had me and Dakota. Mom and Dad drove separately—” I choke on the words. Even all these years later, there is pain in this story. “Mom and Dad arrived to pick me up. But Dakota’s parents never did. We learned not long after that they lost control of the car when a tire blew. You’ve seen the roads around here, so you know that’s never a good thing.” I finish quietly, “They drove into the lake and couldn’t get out…”
“I’m sorry.” Briggs shifts his arm from the back of the sectional to my shoulders, tugging me into the warmth of his side.
“Nan wasn’t in a place to parent Dakota. She’d just lost her daughter and—” I sniffle, compose myself andcontinue, “Mom and Dad taking Dakota was natural. Then he just never left. He was always family, anyway.”
“I’m happy you all could be there for him. That he had you.”
My nose feels prickly with emotion. “I’m happy we have him.”
Briggs’ arm around me tightens in a gentle squeeze as we settle into silence. It doesn’t take long in the nook of his embrace to banish the sting of emotion in my nose and the salt from my eyes.
Dark, heavy clouds roll closer and there’s a heavy wet warmth to the air that tells me this one is going to be a big storm.
Through the patio screen, we hear the doorbell ring. Briggs stands. “That’s the pizza.”
I slip into the kitchen for plates as Briggs retrieves the pizza and we meet again outside. I can’t take my eyes off the man as he moves. A dark curl drops onto his forehead when he bends to place the box of pizza on the table. He combs it back with thick fingers like he does before he puts his cowboy hat back on his head. Though there is no hat now.
“Have you always worn a cowboy hat?” Briggs nods and I admit, “I thought you were a bit of a poser when I first saw you.”
He raises one brow as he lowers to sit beside me, elbows on his knees even as his head is cocked to the side and angled to look back at me. “You did?”
I press my lips together and admit, “I did.”
“Why?”
“I heard you were this polished rich city boy, but there you were on horseback with scuffed boots and a faded cowboy hat.”
“That hat isn’t faded.”
“It’s not new.”
“No, it’s not new. It was my dad’s hat. My stepfather’s hat. He wore it all the time and when he died, Mom gave it to me.” He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes now on the darkening clouds. “It made me feel closer to him when I wore it. More like the man he was. The man I wanted to be one day.”
My heart clenches. “He’d be proud of the man you’ve become, Briggs. I know it.”
His eyes don’t move from the clouds for a long moment. He says nothing in response, but I’ve come to know him well enough to know that he’s feeling things right now. A lot of things.
Then the moment is broken when he reaches for the box of pizza, flipping the lid. He plates me a slice, foregoing the plate for himself as he sits back with his own slice. As we eat, we watch the clouds tumble in the sky, but there is no lightning, no thunder. It’s as though the heavens just can’t bear to let it all out quite yet.
We eat our pizza and Briggs pours me a second glass of wine. All the while, the sky threatens a wild storm that never seems to come. When I finally give up on the storm, finishing my second glass of wine, Istand and tell him, “I’m going to go to bed. It was a long day and I’m exhausted.”
Briggs lifts the box of pizza. “Right. Uh.” He swipes his free hand through his hair. “Guess I’ll join you.”
I do my best to keep the blush from rising as I agree nonchalantly, “Sure.”
33
FOREVER AND FOR REAL
BRIGGS
Idon’t think the little lunatic has the slightest clue what her little nighties do to me. What they’ve been doing to me these last few nights. Every night it’s the same thing. She gets dressed in the bathroom before racing to the bed. She can’t race quick enough to get under the covers, where she thinks I’m not seeing her long, toned legs poking out of the little lace hemmed nighties.
The woman has more than her fair share of nighties. I’ve seen the pile in her drawer, most silk. Though she has been careful to wear her more modest ones while sharing my bed.
