I refold my arms again and nod stiffly. "Yep. Gotta go.” I spin around, fling open the door, and get halfway out of the room when Ross speaks up again.
"I heard you tell Loretta that Martin wants to take piano lessons."
Now I’m really clenching my teeth, and making fists so tight my trimmed nails bite into my skin.Thisis the one area in our marriage where I don't back down so easily.
"Later.” I rush out of his office and down the hall, briefly waving at the ladies gathered in the waiting room on my way out.Enjoy your dumb meeting,I want to say, but I don’t.
I already know what Ross wants to say about Martin taking piano lessons. He didn't want Martin playing chess, either. Despite the fact that Ross was never athletic himself, he was determined to have a son who excelled in sports.
When none of the options took, Ross figured Martin would change his tune by the time he got to middle school, and then high school. Now that the chances are slipping away, he's probably lecturing Martin more than ever. Not that Martin would dare tell me about it. And Ross would know better than to breach the subject when our highly vocal seventeen-year-old daughter, Lucy, was around. Lucy would put her dad in his place, and then, she’d tell me all about it.
I make a mental note to ask Martin about the subject soon.
Once I get in the car, I can already hear Ross’s hyped-up music blasting. The worst part is that he waits until all of his “beauties” are gathered in the waiting room. Then, he pumps up his jam and shimmies into the room while the ladies cheer. It’s nauseating.
I glance down to see the stupid bumper sticker sitting face up on the seat.
“Brynn for the grin,” I grumble. “How about Ross for the loss?” Loss of dignity and self-respect, to start.
I grab the annoying bumper sticker, flick it onto the floorboard, where it lands facedown, and bask in the momentary satisfaction.
CHAPTER THREE
Liam
I tear open the small package of restaurant wet wipes, given only to patrons who order the smothered wings and tug out the small, saturated wipe.
I look at my brothers, who are seated around the table, while I wipe the stickiness away, sensing that something is up. Lunch is typically a noisy affair among the Wheaton men, but today, they’ve been oddly quiet. I have the feeling they’re about to remedy that with something geared in my direction. Something I’m already dreading.
Braxton and Beau look at each other, nod slightly, and then turn to my twin, Luke. I follow their gaze to see Luke shrug and finish his sandwich in one last bite.
"Hey, Liam," Braxton begins. "We've been kind of noticing?—"
"Who’swe?" I interrupt because obviously, Luke doesn’t seem invested.
"Ihave been noticing,” Braxton continues, “along with Beau and Luke, that you seem to be sort of…" He fiddles with his napkin as his lips twist.
I clear my throat and suck in a long, slow breath. "Sort ofwhat?" My limbs tighten; a preemptive defense that’s become second nature to me.
"Stuck," Beau fills in for him.
"Really?” I sound as pissed off as I am, so I take it down a notch on the volume. “Stuckhowexactly?"
"Do you need them to spell it out for you?" Luke mumbles over his food.
"Stuck in your little pity party ways,” Beau fills in. Leave it to him to be the bluntest one of the bunch.
"Okay," Braxton says, “that's not the way we wanted to address it, but yeah. We know you’re dating and everything, but we think you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself to give anyone a real chance."
"Fear obviously plays a part in that, too," Beau says, setting both elbows on the table and lowering his chin. "Listen, I know you’ve been…" He puts up finger quotes. "Playing the fieldfor a while now. You’re going to the fortysomething singles meet-ups, you're asking women out here and there, but it doesn't seem like you'rereallygiving any of them a chance."
“Facts,” Luke pipes up while reaching for his drink.
I lean back against my seat and glare at my newly engaged brother, Beau. "Spoken like a man who found hisnext fiancéemere months after his divorce." I’m not sure whether I sound accusatory or just plain jealous. The fact is, Iamjealous. Here, Luke and I have been playing the field for a collective three-and-a-half years, and suddenly, Beau swoops in and picks up the newest, hottest single right after his divorce like it's the easiest thing in the world.
“My situation is different, and you know it,” Beau says evenly.
Yes, it is. The look in his eyes reminds me that Beau’s gone through hell in his own right. The poor guy found out Trish washaving an affair with the married father of his son’s best friend. Wrap your head around that one.
