Free Ready to Wed by Cindi Madsen Page B

woman had come in a couple weeks ago, pleading with me to take over because she was so overwhelmed. I’d already gotten her location booked and started on her invitations. All that work wasted, and I’d only have a puny deposit to show for it. So on top of having limited funds already, my clients were going to start dropping like poisoned-by-Phoebe flies. Because a guy I had no control over chose to not marry me. If anything, they should question my choice in fianc é , not my ability to plan a wedding.
    “Everything okay?” Brendan asked.
    I turned my phone to silent and put it away. “Peachy.” With a side of Temperamental Tangerine.
    He gave me a look that he wasn’t buying it.
    “I could use a drink. Guess we should’ve picked up some wine to go with dinner.”
    “Well, you’re in luck, because I have a couple of bottles waiting for an occasion like this.”
    Once we were in the kitchen, Brendan poured two glasses of wine. I took a few generous sips, but I was still thinking about that email. Surely I wouldn’t start losing clients over something so stupid. I’d finally gotten my business up and running the way I’d always wanted it to. If I did go back to Grant, though, I wondered if people would view that as a success because it all worked out, or as a failure because I went back to a guy who’d stood me up. Not that I’d make huge life decisions based on what others thought.
    Things are complicated, far more than one paragraph in a paper can cover with a couple of condescending lines.
    I swirled my wine in my glass and glanced at Brendan. “What would you do if you found out you had a kid you never knew about?”
    Brendan froze, his glass barely touching his lips, and then slowly lowered it. “Uh, I don’t know. Why?”
    “I mean, would it freak you out?”
    “Hell yeah.” He tilted his head, looking like he expected more explanation, but I wasn’t ready to drag out all my dirty laundry—or more accurately Grant’s—for him to see. As comfortable as I was with Brendan, I wanted to keep everything happening with Grant separate right now. Each aspect of my life in its own space, just like I was dreaming of doing to that pile of mail scattered on Brendan’s counter. Apples and oranges were just scattered on the counter, too, no nice bowl to hold them.
    I took another drink of wine, draining my glass, and then stared out the patio doors. “Cupid would love to run around that yard.” I glanced at Brendan. “Cupid’s my dog. My last apartment had one tiny strip of grass for the entire complex, and it was hard for him to be cooped up all the time.”
    Brendan joined me at the patio door. “What kind of dog?”
    “Black Lab. He’s with my ex now, until I get my own place.” So much for avoiding talk of Grant. Our merged lives made it so damn inescapable.
    “That sucks. You can’t have him where you are?”
    I shook my head. “Like I said, I’m sleeping on a couch right now, so there’s very little room, not to mention Jillian’s complex doesn’t take big dogs.”
    “Well, if you want to keep him here, you can. I’ve got plenty of space, and I run in the mornings…”
    I bet you do , I thought as I checked out his physique. For the second time tonight. Then I felt weird, because this was Brendan. But, like, Brendan 2.0.
    “…take him with me,” Brendan continued. “Then you can visit anytime. Really, it’d be nice for me.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “Yeah. I’d give you a key so you could come by whenever to see him.”
    “You’re offering me a key to your house? Just like that? What if I come in and trash the place while you’re gone?” More likely I’d find myself cleaning and organizing, but there was no way he could know that.
    The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “Are you going to come in and trash the place?”
    I shook my head.
    “My instincts said as much. I know in some ways we just met, but it doesn’t seem like that much has changed.