I almost smile, remembering her order to pick some up for her night with Evie. “I’ve started piecing that together.”
“Brielle appreciates acts of service. Like the big, romantic shit. She doesn’t like many rom-coms, but I’ve always thought that was a front. One time, she started crying because she saw this old guy get his wife some flowers at one of those stands on the side of the road,” Wesley says.
“Flowers, wine . . . what else?” Beck rubs his palms together. “Get her an ‘I’m Sorry’ charm for the bracelet she always wears.”
I smile.
It’s automatic, like there’s string on either side of my lips that’s been tugged by some higher power. I don’t fight it, either, even if just months ago, I would have done anything possible to avoid being in a situation like this. I’m surrounded by three of my best players, but right now, that isn’t who they are.
They’re my friends.
“That’s lame, isn’t it? You can’t do all three of those things, Rome,” Wesley argues.
Beck scoffs loudly. “Why not? The entire premise of a grand gesture is to begrand, asshole. If anything, he should drop the flowers. She’d just kill them.”
“I bet she’d be able to keep them alive. Even a week is better than nothing. Aubrey’s managed five days before,” Finn says, chest puffing.
There’s not a single part of me that wants to interrupt them. So, I let them talk and soak in the moment, letting it confirm to my once cynical mind that this isn’t anything to fear. My position on the team doesn’t mean I have to avoid these conversations.
It should be encouraging me to have them instead.
So I don’t pull away. I sit, and I stay, and with the three of them, I finish my plan.
45
BRIELLE
My mother has always beenbeautiful. Almost ethereal, really.
She has green eyes a shade lighter than mine, and with these little gold flecks that I’ve always been envious of. When she speaks, there’s a gentle flow to her voice that almost sounds like she’s singing to you. I remember finding comfort in that when I was younger and made it a habit to have her read me to sleep nearly every night.
There are a dozen things that I used to cherish that I no longer do. And that beautiful, angelic voice is at the top of my list. What I once regarded with awe now has my fingers curling into my tennis skirt. It’s too calm. Too gentle. It’s the same voice that never scolded my father for his unfair treatment of Wes and allowed him to carry on as if he weren’t tearing the family apart.
How many times has she used that warm tone to reassure my father that she wasn’t going anywhere when she learned he’d been cheating?
I force my expression to remain dull when she thanks the barista for her latte. He sets my double chocolate frappe in front of me before heading inside, letting us marinate in our silence once again. We’re accompanied on the outdoor patio bynothing but empty seats and the summer sun beating down on us. Usually, there are never any available tables outside of Blank Page, but it only stopped raining about an hour ago, leaving the air a bit muggy. Most people are inside the café, avoiding the frizzy hair and sweaty skin.
“You’re angry with me.”
It’s an almost laughable statement.
“Yes.Obviously, I’m angry. With you, at you, for you. How are younotangry?”
“Marriage is for life, Brielle. Anger poisons us if we hold on to it too long,” she murmurs, fixing her stare on the untouched latte in front of her. “Divorce isn’t an option after so many years together.”
I shake my head slowly, disbelief pulsing through me. “So you’ll allow yourself to be treated poorly because you don’t believe in divorce?”
“You don’t have to understand my decisions, Brielle. I only ask you to accept them and to apologize to your father for the cake.”
“Over my dead body!” I burst out before sucking in a breath, lowering my voice. “I’m not apologizing to him. And you shouldn’t be asking me to. Not when you’ve sat by and watched?—”
She goes red when I cut myself off and dig my fingers into the muffin in front of me before shoving a piece into my mouth. Crumbs escape and fall down my chin as I struggle to avoid spitting it right back out.
“When I watched what?”
My mouth is so dry it takes forever for me to chew the chunk of muffin. I have to take a swig of my coffee to get it down my throat.
“You sat by and watched him belittle Wes. For years. Not only did he go behind your back, but he hurt your son.”
