Page 32 of Brambles and Bellflowers
Bryce was closingthe door of his flashy emerald BMW as we pulled into Damen’s driveway and waited for us at the bottom of the porch. Even though he was visibly exhausted, with wrinkles heavy in his navy suit and dark bags under his eyes, he paused and gave us a once-over as we approached.
“Hey…” he began, his gaze lingering on Damen’s hand on my hip.
“Hello,” Damen greeted. “Have you been making any progress then?”
“It depends on how you define that term,” Bryce answered, loosening his burgundy tie. “What did you do today?” he asked me. “Did Damen remember to feed you?”
“I’ve never not fed her!” Damen protested. “We went to Colette’s place. There were breadsticks.”
Bryce shot me a knowing look, and, for a second, I felt less crazy. Someone else saw through Damen’s deception—Bryceknewof my pain. It was rare to eat with Damen, and the man never seemed to notice. Perhaps, in this, I had an ally.
“Damen made her mad, and she took the breadsticks away,” I answered, touching my lips as we stepped onto the porch. “We didn’t eat yet, but I don’t need anyone to feed me. I’m perfectly capable of making dinner. Are you hungry?”
Damen froze, while Bryce, who had been in the process of opening the door, paused and looked at me, astonished.
“I could eat…” he spoke slowly, seemingly afraid to say something wrong. “Why?”
Why?
Who would ask ‘why’? Wasn’t it obvious? My God, he distrusted me this much.
How could our relationship have come to this?
“I’m going to make spaghetti.” I was sure we had the ingredients, and pasta was impossible to mess up. After dinner, it would be all too easy to set Bryce and Damen against each other in another disappointing chess match while I escaped. “Do you want some?”
“Are you going to poison me?” Bryce asked.
“Who cares?” I pushed past him, entered the lobby, and allowed Damen to remove my jacket. “It’s not like you’d die anyway.”
Damen laughed as he turned from the clawfoot coatrack.
“Don’t laugh.” Bryce frowned at him, hanging up his jacket. “It’s true.”
“What’s funny?” Finn peeked out from the living room.
My chest tightened. I’d completely forgotten to account for Finn. Now, how was I supposed to get some time alone? I’d been looking forward to readingSinful Responseall day.
Why was he always in the wrong place at the wrong time?
“Bianca is.” Damen brushed past me. “Although I don’t think she realizes it.”
“Ah…” Finn fell into step behind us. “Yeah, she’s like that.”
Bryce lingered in the kitchen doorway with me as Damen poked around the room. Meanwhile, Finn moved to the counter and watched his brother.
It was weird to see the two of them interact. Even more concerning was this not-so-secret discussion between them—a conversation I didn’t understand.
And it was about me.
My stomach twisted—this was a highly uncomfortable feeling.
“Hey…” I hissed at Bryce and pressed my elbow into his side. I waited until he glanced down at me before continuing. “What did I say that was so funny?”
Bryce shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have no idea. You were only stating a fact. But sometimes, you need to make concessions for others. Not everyone thinks the way we do.”
“But we’re normal?” I asked, desperate for his answer. “I don’t want to be weird.”
“You’re not weird. We should just remember to feel sorry for them. It must be exhausting being so illogical.”
