It hadn’t been just a mistaken night. It had been, if she allowed herself to admit it—which she rarely ever did because the consequences had rewritten it—one of the best nights of her life.
ChapterSix
The wedding celebrations went on into the early hours. There was an after-party at Logan’s polo club, the Silver H, for anyone who wanted to carry on. And Brodie chose very much to carry on. He needed as much distraction as he could get. When the Silver H closed, he ended up taking a cab with his sister and a bunch of other guests into Jackson. The following day there was a brunch at the ranch, hosted by his parents. Brodie rocked up in his pale blue suit and his sunglasses and picked up where he’d left off. If there was a still a crowd, still a party, still a distraction, Brodie was there. He didn’t want to go back to his condo. He didn’t want silence. He didn’t want to have to think. But even he struggled to keep going for thirty-six hours, before the sun set on the Sunday evening celebrations and Logan swept Bella off to the airport for a honeymoon. It was coming up to polo season, so they weren’t going away long as Logan had to be at the club, so Brodie had offered them the penthouse suite in the mock Tuscan castle at his vineyard in Napa. Handing Logan the keys, Brodie finally had to admit defeat and go home.
Brodie’s condo building was nearby the Silver H polo club. It was new and fully serviced and felt very similar to living in a hotel, which he usually found strangely comforting. But tonight, as he lay on his bed, dressed in a T-shirt and Calvins, hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, it felt coldly impersonal and, if he was honest, a little bit terrifying.
Now he was alone, he kept seeing Zoey’s cheeky grin after she’d eaten that Cheerio. He wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep, same as he’d wanted to just dance at the wedding and chat amiably at the brunch, and forget about it, but it was like he had a new shadow, hovering there in the background of everything he did: dancing with his sister.You have a kid. Laughing at Bella’s speech at the brunch.You have a kid. When he was with people, Brodie could distract himself, get up and go and talk to someone else, have another cup of coffee, eat another smoked-salmon bagel. But at home on his own, the shadow engulfed him. Walking in the door.You have a kid.Taking a shower.You have a kid. Trying to go to sleep.Kid, kid, kid.
Brodie got up and looked out the window. He could see the polo field in the shadowy moonlight. Thought about the horses all soundly asleep for the night. He wanted to be soundly asleep. He wasn’t a stranger to staying up all night, but it was always by choice. When he chose to sleep, Brodie slept like a log. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was out.
But tonight. The shadow wasn’t letting him sleep.
How could she not have told him?
A child.That was a massive responsibility. Life-changing. He thought of his mom saying,You have to be selfless to be a parent.
Brodie exhaled.Selfless.Not a word in his vocabulary.
Maybe the kid wasn’t his?
The answer to that question came with those big wide eyes and the dimples. The kid was definitely his; she was beautiful, charming. And she looked like him.
Brodie stared at the clock, it was 4 a.m. On the ranch, Noah and his dad would be getting up soon. He remembered those dark, cold mornings of his youth, the tired silence as they ate their oatmeal, the list of jobs to be fought over. The backbreaking work. Brodie had hated it. Didn’t just hate it, he detested it. On the ranch, he was like the kid not picked for the football team, the hindrance.
You have a kid.
He shivered.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He put the pillow over his head. He didn’t want this. He didn’t ask for this.
Maeve clearly didn’t want him to be a part of this.
He’d leave tomorrow.
He moved the pillow from his head and put it behind his head again at the idea. He’d get a couple of hours sleep now, then get up, pack his bag, and go to the airport. He was meant to be meeting friends in San Diego in a few days, he’d just arrive early.
Brodie rolled his shoulders, he felt better. He plumped the pillow and turned onto his side, pulled the cover up over him, knew now that he’d be able to sleep. He loved the airport. Loved the freedom of it. The world his oyster.
He woke up five hours later, the sun streaming in through the window, the familiar sounds of the polo club filtering into the room, the shouts and the crack of the mallet, the smell of freshly cut grass.
He rubbed his eyes, reached for the glass of water by his bed, saw his blue suit on the chair.
You have a kid.
He stopped still. He could hear his heart.
There was her face. Small, perfect, the exact combination of him and her mother.
He suddenly imagined the look on his own father’s face were he ever to discover that Brodie had fled from this revelation. There would be no shouting, no scoff of disgust or reprimand, there would simply be a slight pursing of the lips; perhaps his dad would slip his hands into his pockets, with a look in his eye that said Brodie had done exactly as he would expect.
He stood up and looked out the window, at the sun glinting on the lush grass of the polo field.
You have a kid.
He knew in that instant there was no escape. If he got on a plane the shadow would follow him, but worse, so would that imagined I-thought-as-much look in his father’s eye.
* * *
