“I am, Piper.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “I will be.”
Her body relaxed a little more against him. “Brendan . . .” With his name lingering in the air, she seemed to come out of a trance, starting to turn away from him. “We should order pizza—”
He kept her from turning. “What were you going to say?”
Based on the way she squared her shoulders, she was remembering her promise not to keep anything locked in her head. Away from him. A mixture of dread and curiosity rippled in his stomach, but he stayed silent. This was good. The openness between them was coming easier and easier, because of trust. “I was going to ask if you wanted kids someday. And I realize that sounds like . . . like I’m asking if you want them with me, which . . .” Color suffused her cheeks. “Anyway. It’s just that we never talked about it, and kids seem like something you’d have a firm plan on—”
Her phone started vibrating on the kitchen counter. “Leave it.”
Piper nodded. Her phone had been unusually active since they returned from Seattle, which was another reason he’d been on edge. But just like when they’d been in the hotel lobby shopping for cologne, the phone wouldn’t quiet, dancing and jangling on the counter. “Let me just silence it,” she murmured, reaching for the device. Pausing. “Oh. It’s Daniel.” Her eyes widened a little, as if maybe she’d just remembered something. “I—I’ll call him back later.”
Brendan wanted nothing more than to get back to the conversation at hand, but when he told her that yes, he wanted kids, he didn’t need her distracted. “It’s fine. Answer it.”
She shook her head vigorously and put the phone on silent, but the unsteadiness of her hands caused it to slip. When she caught it, the pad of her finger hit the answer button by mistake. “Piper?” came a man’s voice over the speakerphone.
“Daniel,” she choked out, holding the phone awkwardly between her chest and Brendan’s. “Hey. Hi!”
“Hi, Piper,” he said formally. “Before I book this flight, I just want to make sure the grand opening is still on. You’re not exactly famous for your reliability.”
Brendan stiffened, alarm and betrayal turning his blood cold.
Here it was. The other shoe dropping.
Piper closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s still on. Six o’clock.”
“That’ll do fine, then,” her stepfather responded briskly. “There’s a flight that gets in a few hours before. Is there anything I can bring you from home?”
“Just yourself,” she said with false brightness.
Daniel hummed. “Very well. Have to run. Your mother sends her love.”
“Same to her. Bye.”
When she hung up the phone, she wouldn’t look at him. And maybe that was a good thing, because he was too winded to hide any of the dread and anxiety that had taken hold of his system. “Daniel is coming.” He swallowed the nails in his throat. “You’re still planning on impressing him with the bar. So he’ll let you come back to LA early.”
“Well . . .” She threaded unsteady fingers through her hair. “That was the original plan, yes. And then everything started moving so fast with us . . . and I forgot. I just forgot.”
“You forgot?” Brendan’s voice was flat, anger flickering to life in his chest. Anger and fear, the fear of her slipping away. Goddammit. Just when he thought they were being honest with each other. “We’ve been doing nothing but work on Cross and Daughters for the last week, and the reason you started renovating it in the first place slipped your mind? Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Yes,” she whispered, extending a hand toward him.
Brendan moved out of her reach, immediately regretting the action when she flinched and dropped her hand. But he was too fucking worried and shot through with holes to apologize and reach for her. His arms were leaden anyway. Impossible to lift. “You didn’t keep Daniel’s visit as a safety net?”
Her color deepened, speaking volumes. “Well, I d-did, but that was—”
His laughter was humorless. “And your friend Kirby? Have you told her you’re not planning on flying to LA for the party?”
Piper’s mouth snapped into a straight line.
“No, I didn’t think so,” he rasped, a sharp object lancing through his ribs. “You’ve got all kinds of safety nets, don’t you, Piper?”
“I wasn’t going to go,” she wheezed, hugging her middle. “Brendan, stop being like this.”
But he was past hearing her. Past anything but weathering the battering waves. Trying to keep the whole ship from getting sucked down into the eddy. This was it. This was the storm he’d felt coming. Felt in his fucking bones. Had he ever really had a chance with Piper, or had he been a delusional idiot? “Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?” he said, turning and leaving the kitchen. “You were never going to stay, were you?”