Worth the fall, p.21
Worth the Fall, page 21
“Of course,” I answered, hoping that I didn’t sound as remotely shocked as I felt.
“What’s your take on the chalets versus a single new structure?” He folded his hands and waited for my response.
Glancing around the room, I saw that every single pair of eyes was focused on me as they waited. None of the brothers looked bothered by the fact that I was being asked, and Thomas looked completely comfortable as he held Clara on his lap and gave me a lopsided smile.
I cleared my throat as I formulated my thoughts. “I think the chalets make the most sense long-term. Another building might hold more rooms in total, but they’ll lack the charm that the chalets could give. In my perspective, people tend to be moving away from the standard hotel experience and are looking for more of that home-like feeling while they’re on vacation or attending events that last longer than a day or two. The chalets will give them a different kind of comfort than we already provide. Having that option will be nothing but an increase in revenue for us and our bottom line.”
Mr. O’Grady smiled as soon as I finished. “Looks like we’re all in agreement then. Thank you, Brooklyn. You’re a real asset to the resort.”
“And the family,” Matthew added quickly as he stood up from his chair and pulled me in for a hug, catching me off guard as Jasper barked.
“Get off my woman,” Thomas growled, and Matthew released me.
“You’re an asset in every way, baby.” Thomas planted a kiss on my lips in front of his whole family. At work. I felt my cheeks turn red.
“Did we get the chalets then?” I asked, not realizing how loud I’d asked the question.
“We got the chalets!” That was Patrick. He looked pleased.
“Guess you have a lot of work to do.” I shot him a look because this was his baby and his crew that would be handling all of the building, on top of finishing the barn. It sounded like a lot of work to me.
“Not like I have anything else to do,” he said, and even though I didn’t think he meant for it to sound so sad, it still came out that way.
“We could always have another sleepover,” Clara interjected, clearly sensing the same thing I had.
“Anytime, princess,” he said, patting his dog’s head. “Let’s go, Jasper.”
“Where are you going? Can I come?” Clara asked, and I reached for her hand to stop her from chasing after her uncle.
“How about you come with me first, and then we’ll go visit your uncle Patrick in a little bit? I could use your help decorating,” I said, and her little eyes brightened as Patrick left the office with his dog following right behind.
“I love helping you decorate! I always have the best ideas, right? You said that one time, remember?”
“Of course I remember. You definitely have the best ideas. You’re very creative,” I complimented, hoping that I was contributing to her having healthy self-esteem and self-confidence.
“Is that okay, Daddy?” She turned toward her dad, but didn’t let go of my hand.
“Of course. Stay with Brooklyn though. Don’t wander off or hide,” he warned because she still had a bad habit of doing both whenever she was here.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I tried to reassure him, but sometimes, Clara could be sneaky. She’d disappeared on me once before, but I’d found her in the restroom, washing her hands.
“I’ll stay with Miss Brooklyn because I want her to be my mom someday,” she blurted out.
If I thought my cheeks had heated before when Thomas kissed me, they were on fire now.
“You do, do you?” Thomas asked, his tone completely cool, calm, and unaffected. The actual opposite of how I currently felt.
“I think she’d be a good mom. Don’t you, Daddy? But she said it wasn’t up to her. So, that means it’s up to you.”
“What brought all this on?” He shot me a look that told me he was enjoying this far too much.
“Miss Shooster likes you,” Clara said, and I noticed Thomas’s face instantly shift into something that looked like disgust.
“Yeah, thanks for the warning about that one,” I added with a look of my own, completely forgetting that Matthew and Mr. O’Grady were still in the room, listening in.
“Sorry about that. It slipped my mind,” Thomas apologized. “How bad was she?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I said with a lilt to my tone that told him I’d won that particular battle and I would have no problem doing it again.
“Can’t wait to hear all about it later.” He gave me another kiss. In front of his father and his brother and his daughter.
If we planned on keeping our relationship a secret at work, we were doing a piss-poor job of it. Not that we’d even brought that particular topic up. I thought Thomas wanted everyone to know that we were together. And with Clara’s sweet declaration floating between us, I felt like I couldn’t blame him.
I wanted everyone to know too.
TIME FLIES ... LIKE A TURKEY
THOMAS
The weeks seemed to fly by. It was as if the second Brooklyn had come into our lives, time sped up a notch or two. Or maybe my days had become so enjoyable that they felt faster somehow. We’d slipped into an easy routine. One where Brooklyn spent the night almost every night at our house and Clara woke us up each morning by snuggling in bed between us with the biggest smile on her face.
I’d never allowed myself to want this sort of thing before. A part of me never believed it was possible. That all changed when one smart-mouthed redhead waltzed into my life and took hold of my heart.
“I thought I had all I needed,” I said one evening after I went down on her. It was my favorite nighttime activity.
“What?” she asked, her breaths heady and labored, her fingers still playing with my hair.
“I really thought I was happy. I mean, happy enough. I was content. But then you came along, and I knew I’d never be satisfied if I didn’t have you in my life.”
It was a heavy admission, but I knew she could handle it. I’d fallen first. We both knew it. I wasn’t afraid to admit it.
“I was scared of the way you made me feel,” she said, and I noticed her eyes turning glassy. “Because every time I looked at you or Clara, I wanted to be in your life too. But I didn’t understand how I could feel that way when I barely knew either of you.”
“Love isn’t logical, baby,” I said, throwing the word out there to test the waters.
If she freaked out and tried to run, I’d chase her to the ends of the earth. There was no way I was letting this woman go without one hell of a fight.
“Are you trying to tell me something without actually saying it?” Her mouth tipped up into a half grin.
“Don’t want to scare you.”
“You can’t scare me anymore. I’m all in, babe,” she said as she leaned up to kiss my lips. I knew they still tasted like her, but she didn’t seem to care.
“I love you.” My heart was pounding inside my chest as I tried to convince myself that I’d be okay if she didn’t say the words back, but I knew it was a lie.
“I love you too.”
“You’re our future. I see it so clearly.” I wanted her to know exactly how strong my feelings were for her.
“What if I’m a bad mom to Clara?” she asked, and I loved how she thought of my daughter and took her into consideration.
“You could never be. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but I figure it out. We can figure it out together. I never thought I’d have a partner. Now, I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
“I feel the exact same way. It was never like this for me with Eli. I never felt like part of a team. Even though I was married, I felt really alone.”
She was at the point where she could talk about her ex-husband without any emotion clogging her throat. Almost like she was telling a story that had happened to someone else and not her. I just wanted her to be happy.
With me.
“You’ll never be alone again,” I said as I dived back under the covers, wanting to show her just how much I appreciated her choosing us.
And when she came on my tongue, I threw off the covers and flipped onto my back, ready to slip inside of her. She rode me until we both came undone, our bodies sweaty and slick with sweat. When she laid her head on top of my chest, she moved a few times until she was finally comfortable.
“Like a rock, O’Grady. Like a fucking rock.”
I laughed and watched her head bounce with the movement. “Sorry. I’ll start letting myself go now that you’re all in.”
She pulled her head up and glared at me. “Don’t you dare.”
“I knew you liked it.”
Thanksgiving dinner at my dad’s was pretty much a tradition in our family. Not like we’d had any other options, unless we wanted to have an early lunch at Main Street Diner before they closed for the evening. But we hadn’t done that in years. Not since Clara was born.
“Are Sven and Lana coming over?” I shouted toward Brooklyn, who was currently doing her makeup in the bathroom.
She had done Friendsgiving with her best friend since her parents had moved to Florida, and I didn’t want to ruin her tradition, so I figured we could combine it.
“The more, the merrier,” my dad had said, and I couldn’t have agreed more.
“They can’t make it. There were more people without family this year, so Lana is hosting at her place. I didn’t want to invite twelve people over to your dad’s.”
Okay, so twelve strangers might have been about ten too many.
“Sounds good. Lana and Sven know they’re always welcome, right?” I asked again because I didn’t want Brooklyn to feel like she had to give up anything in order to be with me.
She stepped out of the bathroom, her face lined in different shades and stripes, and I fought the urge to ask what the heck she was doing to herself.
“They know. And I know. Thank you for including them.”
“What’s happening there?” I made a circle in the air toward her face.
Okay, so apparently, I couldn’t help myself.
“It’s called contouring and highlighting. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Clara ran into the room and started bouncing on the bed. “Miss Brooklyn, I want contouring and highlighting too!”
Brooklyn’s eyes met mine and held. “I think we could do that.”
She gave me a look that warned me not to say no even though my stomach was twisting.
I hated makeup.
“I’ll be downstairs,” I grumped.
“No. Stay. Come in here,” Brooklyn demanded.
I had no idea why she wanted to torture me this way. Forcing me to watch my daughter get a face full of makeup that would make her look far older than she really was wasn’t my idea of a good time.
Brooklyn waited for me to join them in the bathroom before giving me a kiss on my cheek. “You’re being such a good sport,” she said before I rolled my eyes and grumbled under my breath.
“I’m going to blend my makeup really quick, and then we’ll do yours, okay?” Brooklyn asked my daughter, who was watching her with laser-focused attention.
And since I had zero clue what any of that meant, I did as well. Brooklyn grabbed some weird egg-shaped thing and started pressing it all over her face, and before I knew it, the harsh stripes disappeared, and her face looked normal again.
“Hop up here.” Brooklyn patted the countertop, and Clara climbed up.
I watched as she drew much lighter lines on Clara’s face before using the same egg-shaped thing to do the whole blend thing, and the lines disappeared, just like they had on Brooklyn’s skin. I noticed the difference on my daughter instantly though. Suddenly, her chubby cheeks looked more defined, and there was a color on them that typically didn’t exist. Brooklyn added some pale lip gloss, and, voilà, my daughter had turned into a teenager in less than ten minutes.
Clara turned to face her reflection and made a sound I’d never heard before. “I look so pretty.”
“You do. With and without makeup. Just like your mom,” Brooklyn said with a smile.
I wondered how the hell we’d gotten so lucky.
It was a kind thing for her to say, to even think about.
“Can I show you something, Miss Brooklyn?”
“Of course,” she answered, and we both watched as Clara hopped down and rushed away.
“She looks so much like Jenna,” I breathed out once we were alone.
Brooklyn nodded. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”
“Is that weird for you? Uncomfortable in any way?” I asked because we didn’t really talk a lot about Jenna other than that one night.
“No. I feel bad that Clara never got to know her mom. And I don’t want her to forget her either. If it were me, I would want to be remembered.”
“So, the pictures in the house don’t bother you?” I’d wanted to ask her that before, but it never seemed to be the right time. The topic would have come up out of nowhere and been forced or felt awkward.
“Not at all. Honestly, I thought I’d be more jealous, which I know sounds irrational and immature, but I don’t feel that way at all. Like I said, I think it’s important that Jenna is remembered and that Clara knows her mom loved her and wanted her.”
“Thank you,” I said before closing my mouth over hers before Clara cleared her throat.
“Hi. This is my favorite picture of my real mom.” Clara shoved the framed photo of Jenna that she kept in her room toward Brooklyn.
Brooklyn grabbed it with one hand and smiled. “It’s a really pretty picture.”
“See her lipstick?” Clara pointed at Jenna’s glossy pink lips.
“I do.”
“It’s my favorite, and you made my lips look just like hers. Thank you,” she said before taking the picture back, and I was hit with an idea.
“Clara, can you hold the picture up next to your face so I can take a photo for Grandpa and Grandma?” I asked, referring to Jenna’s parents.
This would be a nice surprise for them on a day that I knew was still filled with pain. Holidays tended to be the worst when you were missing someone.
She did as I’d requested with a big smile, and I texted them both the picture, hoping it would make them happy, before Clara disappeared again, most likely to bring the picture back to her bedroom.
“If my ladies are finally ready to go, you know Pops and the uncles are waiting for us,” I announced because we were definitely running late.
“I’m ready.” Clara jumped and bounced around. “Jasper will be there, right?”
“I don’t think Uncle Patrick goes anywhere without that dog anymore.”
“Just like Uncle Matthew doesn’t go anywhere without beer,” Clara said before giggling because she knew she was saying something naughty.
“Don’t forget the pies,” Brooklyn shouted as we all ran down the stairs.
If she hadn’t mentioned them, I definitely would have forgotten. I hustled toward the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed the two boxes from The Sweet Life Bakery, and followed my girls toward the garage.
“Let’s go eat!” I shouted.
The two of them repeated my words right back to me, and I wondered how my life could get any better than it was right now.
THANKFUL FOR THIS FAMILY
BROOKLYN
I walked into Mr. O’Grady’s home and instantly felt like I was part of the family. The last time I’d been here was a bit chaotic, to say the least. Thomas and I had made a scene, storming out, making out, and then declaring that we were a couple before leaving for the night.
This was different. All the O’Grady men were already in the house, split between the kitchen and the living room, which was blasting a traditional Thanksgiving Day football game, each one with a beer close by.
“Mr. O’Grady, can I help?” I offered as I slid into his kitchen and put the pies in the refrigerator.
“What’d you bring?” he turned and asked, his blue eyes shining. He’d gifted all of his sons with those eyes.
“Sweet Life pies. Pumpkin and apple crisp.”
“They do make the best desserts.” He winked before focusing back on the task in front of him, which included a hand mixer and the biggest pot I’d ever seen in my life.
“What are you making?” I tried to peek over his shoulder, but he stood on his toes and blocked my view, moving his shoulders every time I tried to maneuver around him.
I’d seen Mr. O’Grady at the resort a hundred times, but he’d never been playful. I liked this side of him. It was sweet and unexpected.
“These are my secret mashed potatoes, woman. Out before you steal my recipe.” He pointed toward the other room.
“Don’t let him fool you.” Matthew suddenly appeared and pulled me in for a hug. “He stole the recipe from Addison, and now, he claims it as his own.”
At the mention of her name, I heard a chair squeak against the wood floor. Looking toward the sound, I saw Patrick trying to hide what looked like hurt. I tried to change the subject because just seeing the expression on his face made me ache for him.
“I forgot to ask, what does Mrs. Green do for Thanksgiving?” I was suddenly feeling horribly rude that we hadn’t asked her to come with us.
“She has a group of friends that she eats with every year,” Thomas said from the couch.
I was grateful that she wasn’t alone. I liked her. Even though it had taken me two weeks to convince her to stop making dinner for us each night.
I didn’t technically live with Thomas and Clara yet, but I was there so much that the majority of my clothes were in the her part of Thomas’ his and her closets. And whenever I did go back to my rented condo, I basically had nothing to wear.
Anyway, I wanted dinnertime at the house to be something that the three of us did together. Either we failed spectacularly at trying to make something edible or succeeded with gusto. Mrs. Green had finally agreed to make only two meals a week. I had taken it as a win, especially since my capacity for cooking was limited to about four things. The rest was a crapshoot.
