Eyes Wide Open (The Blackstone Affair #3)(49)
Author: Raine Miller

“Brynne, I need to speak with you. It’s—it’s . . . an emergency. I’ll try calling Ethan and see if I can reach him.”

Cold fear washed over me instantly. If my mom was humbling herself to call Ethan, then it was something very bad indeed. No! Don’t let it be Daddy. Don’t let it be him. I wouldn’t even go to that place in my head. I froze on the line. Her voice was not normal. She sounded like she was crying. My mother never cried.

My hand shook as I pressed her number on speed dial. I noticed that a text notification had just come through from Ethan, but I ignored it. And then Ben’s phone lit up like a Christmas tree.

“What’s wrong, Bree?” Gaby reached out to touch my arm.

“I don’t know. My mom . . . said it’s an emergency . . . she was crying—”

The walls started closing in fast, my heart beating so hard I could feel my body shaking. Ben answered his call. His eyes flashed to mine, and he spoke: “She’s right here. Calling her mum now.”

I knew Ben was talking to Ethan, and I knew it was bad news. My head felt foggy as the call connected and I heard my mother’s voice on the other end. Everything was moving so fast I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I wanted to stop time. Stop it. Please stop this . . . I don’t want to know whatever she has to tell me.

“Brynne? Sweetie, are you with anyone?” My mom never called me sweetie and she never sounded like she did right now.

“Mom! What’s wrong? I’m with Ben and Gaby. We’re shopping for my wedding dress . . .” I could hear my voice starting to break. “Why did you call Ethan?” The silence from my mother was like the blade of a knife sliding into my heart. I knew she wasn’t silent because of my wedding dress comment. I wanted to believe it was the reason, but I knew better.

“Brynne . . . it’s your father.”

“What about Daddy? Is he . . . okay?” I could barely get the questions out. I looked back over at Benny and saw a look of sheer pain settle over his face. Then he started speaking softly into his own phone. He wouldn’t look at me, just kept his eyes down. I knew what he was doing. Ben was talking to Ethan and telling him which restaurant we were in so he could come for me.

Noooooooooo! That meant something very bad had happened.

“Brynne, sweetheart, your dad—he drowned in his swimming pool—the maintenance service found him—”

My ears heard the words but my brain rebelled. I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t. “No!” I cut her off.

“Brynne . . . it’s true. I wish it wasn’t . . . but it’s true.”

“But he can’t—Mom. He can’t be . . . no! No, don’t say that to me! Mom . . . Mom?”

“Sweetheart, he’d been in the water long time. It was probably a heart attack.”

“N-n-no . . . .” I whimpered. “It can’t be true. Daddy’s coming to London to visit me. He’s coming for my wedding . . . he’s giving me away. He said so. He told me he would be here . . .”

“Brynne . . . he’s gone, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” She was crying. My mother was sobbing into the phone to me and I was struck with the idea that I’d never seen or heard her cry before now.

I dropped my phone and it landed in my soup bowl with a big splash that sprayed across the front of me. I just stared and left it lying at the bottom of my chicken tortilla soup. Ethan would have to get me a new one. That phone was dust now. I’d never touch it again.

I ended up on my feet somehow, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. There was nowhere good to go to—I was trapped.

So I started to float like I had that other time. Only I realized what was happening to me this time around. I welcomed the sensation. Lightness feels good when your heart is so heavy it wants to drag you down into the pits of hell. Yeah, being out of my body felt much better.

I floated higher until I could look down at myself. I saw Ben bracing me on his lap. He sat on the floor of the restaurant holding me. Gaby was beside him talking into a phone at someone. The waiter rushed over to assist.

But it was all so stupid.

Why were we all on the floor of a posh London restaurant when we should have been eating our lunches? We had to get out of there. I had a dress to find and a wedding to plan. My dad was coming to give me away at the ceremony in just seven weeks. The Queen of England had received an invitation, for Christ’s sake. We didn’t have time to f**k around like this!

Eventually I figured it out. The lightness that felt so nice went away and the weight of pain and grief returned to take its place.

I didn’t want to come back down to Earth. I wanted to stay right where I was.

That’s not true. I wanted to keep floating upward until I dissolved. That sounded really nice to me. Dissolving . . .

I felt nothing but enraged hatred for the ceiling. That goddamn motherfucking ceiling was keeping me from floating away.

Let me go! Let me float away . . .

16

I sat up and looked over at Brynne. She slept. In a comfortable guest bed, in her father’s modern house, in a very nice suburb of San Francisco, my girl slept. She was crushed inside her heart, but for now she rested. She was unburdened from the grief for the moment.

I couldn’t let her out of my sight for more than a few hours, so leaving London and going to the States for her father’s funeral without me was out of the question. What if they tried to take her on American soil? No, I couldn’t risk the possibility. This was a day-by-day, hour-by-hour operation. Keeping Brynne safe was my greatest priority now, Olympics be damned. Neil was back in London stepping in for me, and between him and Frances, they’d keep the business machine running. I wasn’t very troubled at all about my job. No, my worries were much, much bigger and vastly more terrifying.

I hoped to shed some light on what had happened to Tom on this trip but didn’t hold out much hope. Either way, I wasn’t going down without a fight. They could try to get at her, but they’d have to go through me first.

Mrs. Exley had wanted us to stay with her in the home she shared with her husband, the nontalkative Frank, but Brynne wouldn’t hear of it.

She said she wanted to be in her father’s home, with his things, in the place where she’d last seen him talking to us on Skype. She felt grateful that the last time they’d spoken had been a happy time. She kept saying that to me. “Daddy was happy about us. He knew everything and he was happy.”

“Yes he was, baby . . .” I whispered over her sleeping form. My sleeping beauty in the night with her long hair tangled in the pillows, the blanket pulled up to her throat like she was seeking comfort from the weight of the fabric against her body. She was still suffering from shock and barely eating. I feared for her health and that of our baby’s. I was scared that this would change us. Change her feelings for me. Push her into an emotional tailspin.