Brynn turned her attention to Sydney, still a little unsure how to navigate the complexity of their relationship. “Well, kudos on the sauce. It’s all really incredible.”
Sydney gave her a kind smile that she didn’t feel like she deserved, given what Brynn had accidentally been party to where Sydney was concerned. “I appreciate that, Brynn.”
Hallie jumped in then, pointing her fork at her almost finished meal. “And you got me the dairy-free cheese, so I get the full parmesan effect. The good stuff, too.” As anyone who had to eat cheese substitutes knew—a fact Brynn had recently learned from Hallie—there were alotof bad ones. “Thank you, Reese. Such simple joys fill my cup.” Even though Hallie downplayed it, she did seem genuinely grateful that Reese had gone to the trouble of accounting for her.
Brynn had learned, by day two of her training, that Hallie was allergic to dairy products, so the kitchen always had a carafe of oat milk available as a creamer along with half-and-half. And Brynn was more than a little relieved that she hadn’t sent Hallie into an allergic reaction when she’d offered her a cup of coffee with dairy creamer in it that morning. She hadn’t made the same mistake twice.
She watched as Sydney’s brow lifted, a smile tugging at her lips. “No one wants to watch you break out in hives,” at the same time that Reese said, “You’re welcome.”
Everyone laughed, like Hallie was generally able to make people do. It was something Brynn had noticed when she watched Hallie engage with guests. Usually, Brynn had assessed, it was with self-deprecating humor or observational comedy. Brynn had tried to study the trait. Quantify it. Emulate it.
So far, she’d come up empty in employing it.
After stabbing her fork into the last piece of chicken on her plate, Hallie took the bite and chewed thoughtfully before shesaid, “That’s a fair point. Would really put a damper on this wild affair. Definitely no clubbing later.”
“Don’t act like you’re bored. You don’t even like clubbing,” Sydney batted back to Hallie.
Hallie responded like she’d been challenged. “I could club. The Lobster Trap has a live DJ on Saturdays now. Did you know that?”
Slowly, Sydney shook her head back and forth. “Can’t believe I missed that inThe Stoneport Bulletin. Or that we’re considering The Trap a club now.”
Hallie nodded solemnly. “I’ll always be here to help you stay relevant, Sydney King. Wouldn’t want those kids at the tennis center to ever deem youuncool.”
“If any of those sixteen-year-olds find themselves at The Trap, they’re going to have way bigger problems with me than whether they think I’m cool or not.”
Brynn had noticed, then, that Hallie and Sydney teased one another a lot. Usually about things that seemed so ridiculous that even Brynn could pick up on the joke. Because, obviously, Sydney was a very cool person. She was famous. And beautiful.
Brynn scrunched up her nose, trying to imagine Reese and Sydney hanging out in a place called The Lobster Trap. Maybe she’d check it out one day, just to form her own opinion.
The rest of dinner meandered through what Brynn would consider safe conversational topics. Reese’s new business venture. Sydney’s work coaching prodigious young tennis players at The Manhaven Center. They’d lightly discussed Brynn getting up to speed at the inn, where Hallie continued to be very gracious about her abilities. What they hadn’t discussed was the elephant in the room—Grant Devereux IV.
The conversation moved around her, with Hallie telling Reese a story about her and Sydney in their youth. Somethingabout them flooding a room at The Stone’s Throw while they’d been trying to make a private swimming pool.
It gave Brynn a chance for her thoughts to turn inward, which they always seemed to do.
She wasn’t champing at the bit to get into her failed engagement, but it felt like there was a wall up between everyone—or between her and everyone, at least—and she didn’t know how to move past it. Or she was just really bad at small talk.
Maybe this was just how dinner parties went, especially if everyone wasn’t close to one another. Brynn wasn’t sure, given that she’d never been to one that her parents hadn’t hosted. She loved a situation where she could disappear whenever she wanted, if everything got to be too much.
She’d attended sporadic events with her father or parents over the years—coincidentally, she’d met Grant at one–but she wasn’t a regular on the social circuit. It wasn’t exactly possible to live in her world and not have to attend obligatory weddings or bar mitzvahs or the occasional charity function at the country club, especially if her mom was organizing it.
When she’d met Grant at a hotel opening a little over two years ago now, she’d just finished her second-to-last year in her PhD program. She hadn’t done anything fun in months. Had barely seen the light of day. And then, suddenly, there was this attractive, charming man giving her attention all night. He’d seemed to like whatever she had to say. Had acted interested in what she was studying. If someone had given her a script for what the start of a relationship should look like, it would have been the night she’d met him. A beautiful backdrop. Twinkling lights. Obscenely expensive champagne. It was the stuff that romance novels were made of.
Only, her story with Grant had a very different ending. He wasn’t her Prince Charming, and he definitely wasn’t the person who’d help her find her parents’ brand of happiness.
Her face scrunched up, trying to remember how she’dfeltthat night. She’d been… confused, for lack of a better word. Sure, she’d been approached by men before, but once they talked to her for long enough that they realized she lived in a very different world than the one her formal dress and makeup implied, they usually excused themselves and disappeared into the crowd.
Grant hadn’t done that. And then, he’d called her and asked her out on a date. He’d kept pursuing her, too. He’d pushed forward, Brynn willingly along for the ride, as he’d shepherded them through every relationship milestone like they’d come from a manual.
God… had they?
Why had he even done all that?
Not because he really wanted to be with her, that’s for sure. Could it all have been about getting into business with her dad? She’d made the comment to Hallie, surprised at herself when she’d admitted it out loud. It was something she hadn’t voiced to anyone since their split—not even Gregory, with whom she’d delved into things the most due to his insistent prodding.
But even when she’d said it in the hallway that morning, as plainly as she could manage, she’d still had trouble believing it. Even though she tried not to think about Grant, it was impossible for her not to replay the series of events that had led her to her current place in life.
The sad conclusion, after extensive internal investigation—she refused to call it “soul searching” since she wasn’t even sure that souls were real—was that his intentions toward her were driven by something more important to him. And there was nothing more important to Grant than becoming the head of The Devereux Group.
