Brou releases his hold and follows me to the car, carrying my bag. He opens the driver’s door but closes it before I’m able to get inside. “Fuck, I don’t want this. Saying goodbye to you is killing me.”
I could throw my arms around him and say screw marriage and kids because all I want is him. But I’d be cheating myself. And lying.
I place my hands on his face, my palms against his beard. Oh, God, this is the last time I’ll touch him like this. “I love you, Lucas Broussard.”
“And I love you, Lawrence Thorn.”
His eyes are locked on mine. “Kiss me before you go. Please.” One last kiss won’t hurt.
I lick my lips and it’s all the permission he needs. His mouth lands on mine, and he pulls my body hard against his. His kiss is slow, romantic, yet dominant. Different from all our others.
This is a goodbye kiss. And it’s shattering my heart all over again.
When he releases me, his forehead is pressed to mine. “If you change your mind, I will be right here, waiting for you.”
I’m not settling. If he wants me, it’ll be on my terms. “You know where to find me if you change yours.”
* * *
“Oh, Ollie.” I launch myself into my brother’s arms when he opens his front door.
He wraps his arms around me and pets the back of my hair. Same thing he did when we were kids in an attempt to soothe me. “I’m gonna kill that fucker. What did he do to you?”
My chest is spasming to catch my breath. “Not . . . what . . . you . . . think.”
“Well, something happened and I doubt you’d be here if he weren’t the root of the problem.” Ollie takes my bag from my shoulder and ushers me to the couch. “Tell me what he did, Lawry. The truth. Don’t sugarcoat it to protect him.”
“Nothing bad.”
“You sitting here crying your eyes out says otherwise. It’s not convincing me I shouldn’t go kick his ass right now.”
Ollie doesn’t know how serious our relationship has gotten so this may come as a surprise. “Brou told me he loved me last week. And I told him the same.”
“I’m not surprised. He told me a while ago he thought he was in love with you.” I didn’t know that.
“We agreed to take this weekend to talk about our future. Decide where we wanted things to go next.” One part of me wishes we’d never started that conversation. I was happy. I almost wish we could have stayed in that cocoon we’d built together. But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t forever.
“Tap being open to discussing a future with you blows my mind. But I take it that didn’t go over well since you’re here crying, so what did he say?”
“We started out discussing who would relocate. I already knew going in it would be me because he can’t leave Lovibond. And that’s fine. I was willing to move for him but not without some kind of commitment.”
“Oh, God. The C word.”
I punch Ollie in the arm. Hard. “You, asshole! You’re siding with him.”
“Oww.” He rubs his bicep. “I’m not siding with Tap over you. I said that because I assume your idea of commitment is marriage, and I know how he is about that.”
“What do you know about it?”
“Says he’ll never marry or have children. I’ve heard him say it at least a dozen times.”
“You know, I didn’t expect a proposal or babies right now. I asked him to be open to considering them in the future.” Not really even a commitment if you think about it. Consideration isn’t pledging anything to me.
“Lawry, you asked him for the two things he’s adamant he never wants.”
“I thought he might reconsider if he loved me enough.” I was wrong.
“Both of those things caused him a lot of pain in the past. He’s terrified of going there again.” He has never sorted through the guilt from an adult’s point of view. He still sees everything from a teenage boy perspective. Self-focused. He’s terrified because he’s not analyzed his marriage or the death of his baby with knowledge and wisdom.
“If he can’t stop making decisions based on the past, we can’t be together.”
End of story.
End. Of. Us.
Period.
I’ve been through some hard shit in my life. But I’m certain the hardest thing I'll ever do is walk away from Lucas Broussard, still loving him.
Lucas Broussard
I twirl Wren’s note back and forth between my two fingers as I read the scribbled black ink over and over. I love you. How can those three damn words break my heart every time I look at them?
I do this to myself every day. The pain forces me to remember how good we were together. Until I fucked it up.
I bring the note to my nose and inhale. Six months have come and gone since Wren left me but the paper still faintly smells like lavender and vanilla. Just like her. I’m surprised I haven’t sniffed away every bit of essence. But it wouldn’t matter. My house is permeated with that fragrance. I’ve filled it with candles and oil diffusers. I walk around smelling like damn flowers and cookies.
Fuck, I miss her. Time isn’t making this better. If anything, it’s getting worse.
Maybe I could move on if I fucked someone. That might help get Wren out of my system. But you’ve already tried that, asshole. Remember? It was a fail. You couldn’t pull the trigger because no woman was enough. You kept comparing them to her.
How could anyone compare when I am in love with Lawrence?
It wasn’t just fucking. It was love.
And I lost her.
I was numb the first month following our separation. And maybe a little pissed since I had told her from the start I wouldn’t remarry. Would never risk losing another child. Hell, what part of a vasectomy did she not understand? I was honest with her from day one.
But then one month turned into two. And my anger dissipated when I stopped thinking of myself and how much I was hurting. Hadn’t she told me from day one what she wanted as well? Yet, I was the one who pursued her. I went to Savannah with every intention of making her mine, a woman who had clearly told me she wanted marriage and children. Did I not know somewhere deep inside she would eventually want those things from me if our relationship progressed? Of course, I did. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.
We’d been apart a few months the first time I googled vasectomy reversal. I knew there was no denying it; the act itself was a serious indication I was on the edge of caving to Wren’s demands. But by month four or five, it didn’t feel like such a concession on my part anymore. I loved her and didn’t want to be apart from her. Wouldn’t the next logical step be to marry her? And isn’t it a reasonable thought to expect children after that?
Bridgette hasn’t missed an opportunity to tell me what an idiot I am for letting Wren go. And she’s right. Even my sweet Bebelle, who is growing like a weed, has given me grief about it. Bridg would rub it in my face so fucking hard if I told her she had been right when she said I should marry Wren and have the vasectomy reversed.
Now, here I sit facing the hard cold truth. Wren was my world. My everything. And I let her go.
If I don’t show her how special she is, another man will.
If I don’t put a ring on her finger, another man will.
If I don’t give her babies, another man will.
Can I live with that? Fuck, no. The thought makes me blind with rage and jealousy.
A knock on my door gains my attention. “Hey, Tap. You busy?”
I fold Wren’s note and put it away in my top drawer. “Not too bad.”
Stout’s attitude toward me has been surprising. Strangely, he understands me better than I thought possible. Sure, he was pissed after our split because his sister was hurting, but he recognized I was in no less pain than she was. We’ve come out of this shitstorm better friends. Porter too. Turns out he wasn’t nearly as infatuated with Wren as Stout let on. Protective because she is his best friend’s sister, yes. But smitten, no.
Stout comes into my office and ta
kes the seat across from me. Hands clasped behind his head. Feet up on my desk to piss me off. This is the old Stout. “I know it’s quitting time but do you feel like talking business for a minute?”
“Always.” Business is all I have now; there’s nothing waiting at home for me. But there could have been if I hadn’t been such a fucking hardheaded fool. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been in contact with a hard cider company, still in its infancy. They’re having a rough go at getting started and may be looking for a partner. I’ve been kicking around the idea of trying to produce and market a cider. This could be the perfect opportunity to get in on it. I’m curious to know what your thoughts would be about buying into something like that. Maybe making it a sister company to Lovibond.”
Stout has been a machine for almost a year. Expanding the company is all he eats, sleeps, thinks. “You know me. I’m always interested if there’s money to be made. How do you feel about what they’re producing?”
“I love what they’re doing over there. Totally thinking out of the box. And everything is organic.” My mind immediately goes to Wren. Fruity and organic. She would love that.
“I’m happy to take a look at the books whenever you’re ready.”
“Would you be free to drive over with me this weekend?” Wow. He’s really serious about this.
My Friday night plan includes sitting on the couch watching the idiot box. The only thing on the agenda for Saturday is getting up at the ass crack of dawn and sitting in the cold-ass woods waiting for a deer to cross my path. “Sure, I can do it. Where are we going?”
“Savannah.”
This cider company could be anywhere in the fucking world but it’s in Savannah, Georgia. With her. “I don’t know about that, man.”
“This is business, Tap. It’s all about perfect timing and financial opportunity. Not my sister.” I know. But she’s there. Within my reach.
“I can’t believe you’re pussing out.” Stout chuckles. “You’re so damn scared of seeing my sister you’d give up an opportunity to make money.”
“I’m not scared to see her.” I’d like nothing more. But I’m terrified of falling to my knees and telling her I’ll give her everything she wants if she’ll have me back again. Can I do that? Give her what she desires most so I can be with her?
After six months, I don’t think I can deal with not having her in my life. Fuck. Can I?
“There’s been a lot going on in Lawry’s life lately. She’s busy doing stuff. You won’t run into her.”
“What kind of stuff?” And what’s going on in her life?
“The biggest change would be her selling Law of Attraction.”
“Why? She loves her boho shop.” A million different possibilities are running through my head. But none can possibly have anything to do with me.
“She no longer feels safe after what happened.”
I’d wondered if their birth mother had continued to cause problems for Wren. Guess so. “Can’t say I blame her. Christie is mentally unstable. I’m afraid she’s capable of more than Lawrence believes.”
“I don’t mean the incident with Christie. I’m talking about Lawry being assaulted and robbed at gunpoint in the alley behind the shop.”
I’ve not heard a word about this. “What the fuck, Stout? Is she all right?”
“Yeah. She was a little banged up, and scared shitless, but she’s okay now.”
Banged up? Okay now? “When did this happen?”
“About a month ago.”
Wren was attacked a month ago and not a single word was mentioned? “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”
“Dude, you ended your relationship with her. I took that as a clear indication you were no longer interested in what happened in my sister’s life.” Both of those statements couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Wren ended things with me. But to hell with who ended what. She was attacked. Of course I would want to know.” He’s very well aware of that. He chose to not say anything because he’s still pissed off at me. This is my punishment for hurting her.
Stout shrugs. “Okay. Now you know.”
Based on his tone, I hear a variety of silent comments attached to the end of that statement.
Okay. Now you know. So what are you going to do about it?
Okay. Now you know. So why do you care? You broke my sister’s heart.
Okay. Now you know. And it doesn’t change a motherfucking thing.
“Lawry handed over the deposit bag. Fucker didn’t have to knock her down and kick the hell out of her. The worst part is our piece-of-shit birth mother was the one who set up the whole thing. But her ass is sitting in jail now so that’s a win.”
My sweet Wren was beaten. She shouldn’t have been in that alley at night by herself. She should have been in Birmingham with me.
This is my fucking fault.
“I have to check on her.” Wren probably thinks I’ve known about this but chose to not call. She needs to know I care.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
What the fuck does that mean? “Why not?”
“Lawry’s life is coming together again. She doesn’t need the added confusion of you thrown into the mix.”
“All I want to do is check on her and let her know I’m concerned.” And hear her sweet voice.
“It’s been a rough few months but she’s finally getting her life back together. She’s dating again. I’m afraid hearing from you will turn her world upside down again.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
“She’s already dating? Who?” That fucking hippie restaurant owner again?
“I don’t understand why you act so surprised. It’s been months since you told her you’d never marry her. You had to know she’d start dating again at some point.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to accept it.” Or like it. Because I don’t. I fucking hate it.
All I can see is red as I imagine some fucker touching her. Tasting what’s mine. I don’t know if I can wait until Friday to see her.
“I’m done talking about shit that ended six months ago. Can you go to Savannah to talk to Savan Cider on Friday, or not?”
“Yeah.” Wouldn’t miss it for the fucking world. “What time?”
“Train pulls out at eight.”
No worries. I’ll be on that motherfucking choo-choo. “Are we spending the weekend in Savannah?”
“Wasn’t planning on it. But I guess we can if you want. I sure as hell don’t have anything going on here.”
Me either. “I need to see her, man.” He shakes his head at me, and saunters out of the room. I have to see her and put a damn stop to this dating shit.
She’s mine. Has been since the first time I saw her. Always will be.
* * *
“Books appear well kept and legit. The numbers are there to support their evaluation. I predict it’ll take two years to become profitable at the rate they’re going. With our help, I think we can push that to nine months. Twelve at most.”
“Does that mean you’re in favor of buying in?”
“I’m in if you and Porter are.” Most of the work would fall on them so it’s win-win for me.
“Would you be up for Lovibond buying two-thirds of Savan Cider if they sold the other third to a different investor? Or maybe even fifty-fifty depending on the purchase price?”
Stout didn’t mention a second investor. I’m not up for that. “You said you wanted to buy a third and become partners with the founders. What’s this shit you’re dumping on me last minute about a totally new investor?”
“Savan Cider has a great basis for the brewery but not the heart for it. They’re willing to sell cheap. I think we can get them well below asking price; they want out that badly. And Lawry wants in. She has the money for her part, and she’s ready to invest if you say it’s a go.”
Wren wants to go into business with us?
With me?
 
; “It’s a no-brainer. The numbers are there to support the purchase but what does going into business together mean for Lawrence and me?”
“It means nothing. You’re in Birmingham. She’s in Savannah. You’ll be partners from afar.” Stout’s wrong. This doesn’t mean nothing. I’d be in charge of the numbers. I’d have to talk to her. See her.
“Lawrence wants this?” To be my business partner?
“She does if you believe it’s profitable.” She’s putting her future in my hands. This is huge. And a very good sign for where our future could be going.
“Is this why you encouraged me to not call her?”
“I needed to hear your honest opinion before you knew she was the interested investor. I didn’t want you jumping at the opportunity because you thought it was a way to bring her back into your life.” He knows I want Wren. And . . . he’s not stopping me here.
“So she’s not dating?”
“That part is true. I think she’s back with that guy she was going out with before you got together. The one with the restaurant.” Fuck. Not what I wanted to hear. But something can be done about that.
There’s no reason to not push forward with this merger but I want to see Wren first. “Will you drive me to her apartment?”
“Sure that’s the best idea tonight?”
“I have to find out if there’s potential for a successful business partnership.” With any luck, much more will work out for us. I hope I haven’t fucked up beyond repair.
I opt to not call Wren but I suspect Stout may have texted to give her a heads-up. It’s his brotherly duty. But if he didn’t, she was aware we were looking at books today. She knows I’m in Savannah. Surely, she expects me to come to her.
“Want me to go up with you?” Fuck, no. Stout’s presence would completely ruin our reunion.
“Nah, I’d rather see her alone first.”
“Okay. I can go to Mom and Dad’s. Call me when you’re finished and I’ll run by to get you.” I hope that’s not the case. I plan on staying with her tonight.
“Wish me luck, bro,” I tell Stout as he lets me out in front of Wren’s building.