Page 88 of The Rules We Broke
He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Darlin’.” His voice held a nervous edge.
Mine probably did, too.
I reached for his free hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and led him into the unknown. We stopped just outside the curtain. Aunt Lu had it drawn, deep in her steamy soap opera world.
I peeked around. “You have a visitor.”
She looked up, mildly curious.
I tugged Brady forward and pulled him into enemy territory.
When she saw him, she sat up—stiffer, straighter, wary. Her eyes flicked to mine. I smiled, pleading silently for kindness.
Her expression didn’t change.
Brady, sensing his moment, stepped forward.
“Ms. Eaton, it’s good to see you looking so well,” he said gently. He placed the gardenia plant on her bedside table with obvious care. “I brought this for you.”
She glanced at the gardenia. “Thank you,” she said—civil, but clipped.
Brady gave her his signature grin, easy and genuine. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”
That wasn’t the right thing to say. I should have warned him.
“I don’t like to be calledma’am.”
I glanced at Brady, wondering how he’d take the first punch in the ring with the reigning champ.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Instead, he leaned in with a smile and said, “Well, would you prefer we skip all the formalities and I start calling youMom?”
I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth.
Aunt Lu’s face flushed crimson—flustered and caught off guard. And that was saying something. I’dneverseen her flustered.
Brady stood his ground, cool as ever, wearing that charming smile like armor.
She narrowed her eyes, regaining control just enough to deliver a measured reply: “You may call meLuannein private. During board meetings, it will still beMs. Eaton.”
Brady gave a slow nod. “Well, thank you, Luanne.”
Okay . . . round one? Brady Jackson, by a knockout.
I reached for his hand and brought him to sit on the couch with me. I didn’t know why, but I felt a little awkward holding Brady’s hand in front of my aunt. It was silly, I know. I mean, I was twenty-seven years old. Maybe if she weren’t so tense.
I could tell she was trying her hardest to be civil. I had to remind myself that Brady looked like a younger version of the man who had broken her heart. Undoubtedly, this wasn’t pleasant for her, and I doubted she quite knew what to do with Brady. He had just bested her, and she was never bested.
She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “So, why aren’t you at the bank this afternoon?”
Great, she was going to give him the third degree.
Brady glanced at me first before responding, “I’m here to see Ellie in action in the children’s ward.”
Her brow pinched. “Why do you call herEllie?”
I glanced at Brady, just as curious for the answer as she was. I’d never asked. I’d always figured he simply liked the name.
He lifted my hand and kissed it gently.
