Almost a Wedding

  “Barrett?”

  I lean back against my mother’s stone. “Audrey?”

  She laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised—you called me.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh.” Her voice sinks. “I must have butt-dialed you. Sorry.”

  “Audrey, wait—”

  “Yes?”

  “Want to get together for coffee?”

  She hesitates. “That’s probably not a good idea, Barrett.”

  I don’t blame her. I could have handled our last conversation so much better. “Just coffee.”

  She doesn’t say anything for the longest moment of my life. “I’m supposed to have dinner with my mother and my brother tonight. You could join us.”

  Her invitation washes over me like a warm summer breeze after a chill. “I’d like that.”

  Another pause. She gives me her mother’s address. “Come around six. Nothing fancy. Probably chicken and pasta.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Are you okay, Barrett? You sound . . .”

  Better now. “I’ve missed you, Audrey.”

  Her tone is still cautious when she answers. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Audrey

  In my home office, I hang up and sit back in my chair. For the last two weeks I’ve been asking myself how I would feel if I ever heard from him again. Now I know. It all came back in a whoosh. The giddy anticipation. The desire to charge forward even though doing so makes no sense.

  What happened to wanting to coldly tell him he missed his chance?

  You’d think supporting Isa through the drama with Paul would have been enough of a wake-up call for me. When a man says he’s not relationship material—he’s not. People don’t change. Paul moved into Bachelor Tower, a haven for sexist elitist men. An apartment which, by the way, actually belongs to Barrett.

  None of that should surprise me. Barrett never claimed to be anyone beyond who I’m discovering he is.

  I should stop asking about him, but I’m only human. Not hearing from him hurt. I know. I know. Sleeping with someone out of the gate doesn’t generally lead anywhere good. That doesn’t mean I have to beat myself up for it.

  I’m old enough to have sex when I want it—simply because I want it. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. If I decide to do something spontaneous and wild, I am mature enough to chalk it up as an experience and move on afterward.

  Except I haven’t moved on.

  Then, just to torture myself, I butt dialed him because apparently I don’t require what’s left of my pride.

  I should call him back and cancel. He doesn’t actually want to meet my family. He’s probably hoping a quick visit with them will be followed by a romp with me. He was pretty clear about what he wants and that doesn’t include any kind of commitment.

  I dial my mother. “Mom, I invited someone to join us for dinner. Is that okay?”

  Her voice rises as she speaks. “A man?”

  “Yes, a man.”

  “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” She’s so excited—too excited.

  “I’m not. He’s a friend.”

  “But you’re bringing him here? You never bring men home. Admit it, you’re serious about this one.”

  I could try to explain him to her. She wouldn’t want the real story, though. I don’t even want it. I let myself imagine for a moment how Barrett would handle my mother if she went full force “Welcome to the family” on him.

  “I am.” I cover my smirk with my hand. I’m being bad. Between my mother’s gushing welcome and the cross examination Joe will probably give him—I can’t imagine dinner will be comfortable for Barrett.

  The devil in me whispers that it’s nothing more than he deserves. After all, he said he didn’t care about me. Yet, he’s coming around to see me anyway.

  I give him five minutes before he’s running out the door.

  That thought wipes the smile off my face.

  I wish things were different. I wish I’d met him, we’d dated, and I actually was bringing him home to meet my family. That’s the reality I want.

  I smack my forehead.

  What is wrong with me? I’m usually the calm in the storm. Today I feel like I am the storm. I open my laptop and try to focus on my latest design project.

  I stare at it for a very long time before giving up.

  I decide to call Isa. She needs to hear that I’m as messed up as she is.

  That’s what you do for friends.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Barrett

  At precisely six o’clock, in jeans and a collared shirt, I ring the doorbell at the Enfield home. I can imagine Audrey growing up here: two stories, blue with white trim, a long porch across the façade. A few minutes earlier, when I’d pulled down the paved driveway and parked in the shade of a huge maple tree, I saw an old playground and a backyard garden.

  I know Audrey’s father left his wife and children early. Somehow her mother was able to maintain this suburban lifestyle. The smell of a neighbor’s grill wafts through a wall of arborvitaes. Have I walked onto the set of a family sitcom? This is the life I dreamed of as a child.

  A taller, older version of Audrey opens the door and flashes a huge smile at me. She’s casually dressed in slacks and a blouse. She calls out, “Audrey, your friend is here.”

  I offer my hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Enfield. Barrett Natick. Thank you for allowing me to join your family for dinner.”

  “No need to be so formal. Call me Felice. We’re happy to have you.” Taking me by surprise, she gives me a tight hug then releases me before I have time to collect myself. “Audrey, your brother will be here any minute. I have to check the garlic bread. Are you ready?”

  “Right here, Mom.” Audrey steps out from behind her mother.

  My breath catches in my throat. In a light summer dress, she’s every bit as beautiful as I remember. My mouth goes dry and I simply stare at her. Part of me wants to gush an apology and ask that we start over. Another part of me would love to toss her over my shoulder and run out of there. Neither option makes much sense. Clear thinking is in short supply at the moment.

  “Hi, Barrett.” I could listen to her say my name all day.

  “It’s good to see you, Audrey.”

  Her mother laughs. “You two are so formal. I’ll go inside and give you a moment.” She winks at me. “Take your time.”

  Audrey groans.

  I chuckle. God, I want to kiss her, but despite her mother’s joke, there are things I need to say before I go there again. “Your mother seems nice.”

  Audrey rolls her eyes skyward. “She means well.” She chews her bottom lip. “I should warn you I don’t usually bring anyone to meet her.”

  Really? I like that. “Then I’m honored to have scored an invite.”

  “I can’t do this, Barrett. I thought I could. I even thought it would be fun to torture you a little but it’s not . . .”

  I run my hands down her bare arms and pull her slowly toward me. “Audrey, I’ve had time to think and I—”

  “Get your hands off my sister,” a male voice booms from behind me.

  I turn and am face-to-face with a very angry man with Audrey’s eyes. “You must be Joe.” I offer my hand for him to shake. He ignores it.

  “Audrey, may I have a moment with your friend?” Joe asks in direct challenge to me.

  Audrey isn’t budging. “No. Joe, what’s your problem?”

  “My problem,” Joe snarls, “is that Isa has told me enough about her relationship and yours for me to know that this guy needs to leave.”

  Audrey steps between us. It triggers a strong reaction in me. If her brother so much as raises his voice to her he’ll be flat on his ass. “He’s a friend, Joe. I don’t tell you who you can hang out with, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t try to with me.”

  “A friend?” Joe shakes his head. “Audrey, that’s man code for—”

  Sh
e raises her hand to silence him. “Stop. Joe, stop right there. I don’t care what you heard, you’re being rude. I invited Barrett.”

  Speaking over her head, Joe says, “Then allow me to uninvite him.”

  “Do I have to tell Mom?” With her hands on her hips, Audrey goes toe to toe with her brother. I begin to calm as I realize she has absolutely no fear of him. In fact, at the mention of their mother, Joe deflates a little.

  I touch Audrey’s shoulder. “I would like to talk to your brother. Alone.”

  She looks from me to Joe and back. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Why?”

  I shrug. I’d explain it to her if we didn’t have an audience, but I’m betting she’d rather be briefly irritated with me than break up a brawl at her mother’s table.

  Her brother gets a wag from her finger and a warning. “Be nice.”

  His response is a shrug that mirrors mine.

  With a sigh of resignation, she throws up her hands and goes into the house. Without her as a buffer there is no longer a need for Joe to hide his opinion of me. “What are you doing here, Natick?”

  “I’m here to see Audrey.”

  He steps closer. “Slumming?”

  My temper begins to rise but I take a deep calming breath. I’m not here for a fight. “Is that the opinion you have of your sister?”

  He steps closer still. If he’s fast, it won’t be the first time I’ve had my nose broken, but I’d prefer to talk it out. I actually respect the guy for wanting to defend his sister.

  “It’s not Audrey I have a low opinion of.”

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard—”

  “Nothing good. At least not when it comes to you. Audrey isn’t the women you probably meet in the city. Someone like you shouldn’t be dating someone like her.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know your type.”

  “And what type is that?”

  “Someone who has always gotten everything easily. You think you deserve anything you want. Nothing is off-limits. You’re easily bored and you move onto the next shiny object without a thought of the devastation you leave behind.”

  Let me guess—disappearing Dad must have come from money. “That’s how little you actually know about me. I came from nothing and built up everything I have.”

  “After what your friend did to Isa—”

  Oh, I see. “Listen, I’m not Paul. I can’t explain nor am I responsible for the choices he makes. Isa can say what she wants, but he has a clear history of being a fuck-up. She went into that wedding knowing it was a gamble.”

  “And that’s your friend.”

  “Yes, that is my friend. A good friend. I make no apology for it.”

  “You need to stay the hell away from my family. To you this might sound like a joke, but I’m one semester shy of graduation. If you hurt my sister and I have to kill you, that’s eight years of school wasted.”

  I almost smile. “So much for the ‘do no harm’ oath.”

  Joe folds his arms across his chest. “I haven’t taken that oath yet. I’m still learning about the fragility of the human body.”

  He’s not joking, but it’s still funny. I like him. “Listen, I’ve never been relationship material. I’m also not normally one to explain myself, but I respect that you want to protect your sister. I’m here for one reason—I want to get to know Audrey, and I’m willing to do it on her terms.” I pause then add, “Plus I heard your mother makes good chicken.”

  “She does,” Joe admits. We stare each other down in a cold standoff. “I still don’t trust you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He lowers his arms and nods toward the house. “Families don’t come any better than the one I have. Don’t lead my sister on. She has a huge heart and sometimes that means she cares about people more than they deserve. She has worked crazy hours for years to help pay for my schooling. She would have paid for this semester, but when she got hurt I knew it was time for me to start taking care of her. She deserves someone who treats her as well as she treats others.”

  His unvoiced question hung heavy in the air. Can I be that man?

  I don’t know.

  It’s easy to be there for Paul because he doesn’t really need me. Joe is essentially saying that if I walk in that door I’d better be someone who shares their values. Hard work. Loyalty. Family.

  It’s that last part I’m not as sure about. I never imagined myself with a family—at least not since I was old enough to understand that the life I had wasn’t the norm. I might be too fucked up to fit into this utopia.

  That doesn’t stop me from wanting to see Audrey again, though. I’d love to tell Joe his instincts about me are all wrong, but maybe someone like me, someone who has had to fight as hard as I’ve had to, doesn’t belong here. “I have no intention of leading Audrey on. I genuinely like her. More than that—I don’t fucking know.”

  The door opens slightly and Audrey pokes her head out. “Anyone bleeding? No? How about hungry? The food’s ready.”

  Joe and I stand without moving for a moment, then he puts out his hand and I shake it. It’s a temporary truce, but I’ll take it.

  I follow Joe in through the door Audrey is holding open. As I pass her, she asks, “Are you okay?”

  I nod. In that heartbeat, because of the concern I see in her eyes, my entire life flashes before me. The fear, the anger, the first time I saw Audrey, the moment I thought would be our last together—it’s all right there along with a path that includes her and one that doesn’t.

  I feel like Paul on the edge of the cliff in the Caribbean. This is an all or nothing leap. The boy who always wanted a family is at odds with the solitary, ruthless businessman I’ve become. I can be back in Boston in an hour, back in my hotel room, fucking some woman I’ll never see again, or I can choose something more meaningful.

  I think about my mother and how lonely she must have been each time we moved. A life without roots and without anyone to share it with is an empty one—poor or rich. I want someone in my life.

  No, scratch that.

  Not just anyone. I want Audrey.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Audrey

  A moment later, Barrett and I carry the bread and salad to the dining room. Joe and Mom follow us with the hot food. Although the table is neatly set and clean, few of the chairs or dishes match. I offered to buy my mother a new set of dishes a few years ago, but she said money is better spent on things that matter. She made sure we had a house in a safe neighborhood, food on the table, and clean clothes on our backs. No cut went unbandaged and every day we shared a least one meal together. It was a simple life, a good one, but I wonder what Barrett thought as he stepped into my childhood home.

  I place the salad on the table and watch Barrett’s reaction closely. He runs his hand over a long scratch along the edge of the table then cocks an eyebrow at me in question. I say, “I did that when I was ten or so. Joe and I were bored and decided to race our bikes in the house. I may have run mine into the table trying to take a tight corner.”

  His hand pauses and his eyes rise to meet mine. “Who won?”

  Joe returns to the table with a pitcher of ice water. “The outcome is still under debate. Technically, Audrey completed four laps around the house first, but she did so by flying the last couple of feet—which I maintain disqualified her.”

  Mom claps her hands once to get our attention. “Okay, let’s eat.” Joe and Mom sit on one side of the table, Barrett and I on the other. She nods toward the scratch. “I used to hate that scratch. When they were little, it represented everything I thought I was doing wrong. Was I raising my children correctly? Would they turn out to be good people? Which part of ‘don’t ride your bikes in the house’ did they not understand? Now that scratch reminds me of everything I miss about when they were little.”

  “Wait for it,” Joe says beneath his breath as he spoons a portion of pasta onto his plate before
passing it to me.

  “How do you feel about children, Barrett?” Mom asks, and I almost drop the plate of pasta.

  “Mom—”

  “Good question.” Barrett takes the dish from me. He seems to consider her question as he fills his own plate. “I never imagined myself having any.” My heart sinks a little until my eyes meet his, and there is something there that has my heart racing. “But I’m at a crossroads in my life. So, who knows?”

  Mom accepts the dish from Barrett. “How long have you and Audrey been together?”

  I send him a look. Now is not the time for full disclosure. He smiles. “Long enough to be here with you.”

  That puts a huge smile on my mother’s face. “Then I hope we see a lot more of you.”

  Barrett accepts a plate of chicken from Joe. “You will.”

  She will? What is Barrett doing? Is this some kind of game to him? I know I played into it, but I don’t want to see my mother hurt when she realizes we’re not actually together. I nudge him under the table and give him a stern look.

  He offers me the plate of chicken with a big ole smile on his face that confuses me even more. I look across the table for help. “So, Joe, did you finish that paper you were working on?”

  As if understanding how much I need to hear something that makes sense right then, Joe not only shares that he’s completed that assignment, but he goes on to give us an update on how he’s doing in general.

  When he finishes, my mother asks me about a client I’d just agreed to work with before heading off to Isa’s wedding. “I sent her some preliminary concepts to get an idea of what she likes. She was enthusiastic about them, so we’re moving forward.”

  Before I have a chance to stop her, my mother asks, “Barrett, tell me, how is your job going?”

  His expression closes. “Fine.”

  My mother puts her utensils down and leans forward onto her elbows. “What do you do?”

  I’m surprised at how uncomfortable Barrett suddenly looks. I try to save him. “He’s a businessman, Mom. There’s nothing to know, really.”