Page 32 of Say You Will

Bronwyn rests on herbed, a folded washcloth over her eyes, pale blonde hair spread over her pillow like corn silk. The lights are off and the curtains drawn, but it’s still bright enough to exacerbate her residual headache. Without changing position, she pats the empty spot on the bed beside her. “Bring it in, Lennox. Oliver too.”

I kick off my shoes, lift Oliver, and climb on the bed beside her. Gingerly, Oliver and I scooch close. I lie on my side and heclimbs up onto my hip, stretching out to lie on top of me. I wrap my arm around Bronwyn’s middle.

“I'm sorry,” she says quietly.

“You don’t have to do this now. Apologize when you feel better. I won’t love you any less, either way.”

She pats my hand where it rests on her stomach, tosses the washcloth to her bedside table, and rolls onto her side to face me.

“I love you too, Franki.” She shakes her head. “I never should have kept my marriage a secret from you guys. I broke Girl Code over and over. And for what? Because I was insecure? You never would’ve done to me what I did to you.”

After a brief hesitation, I say, “No, I wouldn’t have. It hurts that you didn’t trust me.”

Bronwyn plucks at a string of embroidery on her comforter, her brows furrowed. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. It was that, in my heart, I knew my marriage was a mess, but I didn’t want to face it because I was too afraid to lose him.”

I open my mouth to protest, and Bronwyn’s crystal blue gaze holds me captive. “You’d have told me I’d made a mistake and to find a way out of that prenup. Talking it all out with you would have helped me cope better. The ironic part is, Dean never would have left me. If I’d stood up and told him I wouldn’t tolerate half a marriage any longer, he’d have found a way to fix it. I didn’t have a clue how much he loved me.”

Lifting her hand into mine, I admit, “We all tell each other what to do constantly. I can’t speak for Janessa or Clarissa, but I’ll do better. You can tell me anything, and I promise I’ll listen without judgment or advice unless you ask for it.”

Fifteen minutes and one new confession from Bronwyn later and I regret my promise. Just a smidge.

I peer out her window, down to the flagstone patio below and the matte blue of the pool cover. Despite the McRae’s team of dedicated landscaping crew, a few colorful leaves take up temporary residence on random places like that pool cover or the short stone wall between the patio and lawn.

I almost regret that an industrious crew will sweep them clean. Real beauty requires the unexpected. Life needs some chaos. With a grimace, I turn back to where Bronwyn sits on the edge of her bed and mentally amend “alittlechaos.” What she’s planning is not a good idea. “Would you . . . er . . . like my advice?”

Bronwyn gives me a mischievous smirk. “Nope.”

At my pained expression, she snickers. “Does it hurt to hold the advice back?”

I clutch my stomach and confess with a laugh, “So much.”

“You can tell me the bright side to my plan.”

“Oh, ha! This is a test. Let me see.” Tapping my chin with an over-dramatic finger, I pretend to think. “It could actually work, in which case you’ll be blissfully happy, though wracked with guilt. So, we’ll call it ‘gappy.’ But gappy is better than utter misery, so it’s a win.”

“You’ll note the guilt only gets one letter while happy has four. Clearly, happy is the greater part of the equation.”

“There you go. Positive thinking,” I encourage.

Bronwyn smiles before her face scrunches into concern. “You could come with me. You remember the house I inherited in Blackwater. There’s tons of space. Mom is taking care of finishing the renovations, so everything’ll be updated, but it’s still a crazy mishmash of Georgian mansion and Pennsylvania farmhouse. You’ll love it.”

“You want me to move in with you, your new husband, and stepdaughter? Why? I’d be in the way of your family bonding time.”

At her hesitation, the reason for Bronwyn’s offer becomes clear. “You pity me because I can’t stay with my father, and I don’t have an apartment yet.”

Bronwyn’s cheeks turn pink. “It’s just . . . I know you don’t like to be alone, and I’m worried you’ll feel awkward staying here without me and try to leave before you can afford to.”

I dart my gaze to the door then back to her. “Do they not want me here? Am I a nuisance or—”

“Think about my parents, especially my dad. Be for real. Arden McRae III isn’t tolerating anyone he doesn’t like in his home. He wouldn’t feel an iota of guilt about it either. Theyloveyou. The invitation was Mom’s idea in the first place.”

Tension unfurls and I breathe out through my mouth. “I’ll enjoy my visit and when I find a place, I’ll be fine alone.” I indicate my sleeping pooch. “Alone with Oliver, anyway. It’ll be a million times better than living with my mother.”

“But you’re sad.”

I laugh. “How in the world did you decide I’m sad? I’m always looking on the bright side.”

“Because you always have to look on the bright side.”

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