Eyes Wide Open (The Blackstone Affair #3)(52)
Author: Raine Miller

17

 I was relieved when Ethan returned to me from wherever he’d been. I needed him, and everything seemed easier to bear when he was near. It made me very weak, which I despised in myself, but I couldn’t help it, and was too exhausted to care. He was the only lifeline I had here. I wanted to go back home. London—home.

He had two plates of food with him when he walked up.

“I brought you a little bit of everything,” he said.

“Oh, thanks . . . but I’m not hungry at all. I can’t eat that.” I looked at the fruit and the croissant sandwich.

He frowned and set his jaw. I knew I was in for an argument. “You have to eat something. What’ve you had today besides a little tea?” He whispered. “Think of the baby . . .”

“You can’t force someone to eat. Trust me, I know from experience.”

My mother’s disdainful voice broke into our exchange. No sentiment of “Ethan’s right, Brynne, you need to eat because your baby needs food even if you don’t feel hungry.” No “You’re eating for two now, dear” comment. Yeah . . . what did I expect?

I saw Ethan’s head turn and peg my mom. I think there was a little smoke rising from his ears too, but he didn’t lose it as I thought he could have. He just turned glacial and ignored her.

“Come sit with me and have a little something,” he said to me with a gentle voice paired with some serious intent to see it through.

How could I turn him down? I never could. What he did, he did out of concern for me. I did need to eat, even though my appetite was nonexistent. Ethan was right. I had someone else to consider besides myself. Especially now.

I looked at my mom and roamed my eyes over her perfectly coiffed and dressed presentation today for her ex-husband’s funeral. Why in the hell had she even come to the service? She’d barely spoken to Daddy after I moved away to London. She certainly couldn’t have any true grief for him. Could she? I had absolutely no idea. It saddened me to realize that I couldn’t tell because I didn’t know her well enough to tell. My mother and I weren’t close like that. We didn’t share deep feelings or secrets. I never knew why she suddenly divorced my dad, or if she’d ever even loved him. I didn’t know why they ever got married in the first place. How had they met? Where had he proposed? Stories of them dating? I had nothing.

I turned away and went with Ethan to a table, my heart closing off from her a little more with every step I took.

“You are so very beautiful,” Ethan said softly as I tried valiantly to ingest some of the food he’d gotten for me, “on the inside as much as the outside.”

I tried to swallow the honeydew melon that must surely be a hunk of wet sawdust from the way it tasted on my tongue, and told him, “I want to go home.”

“I know you do, baby. I want to take you home. There’s not much left to worry over now. Since your dad had everything in a trust . . . we can come back in a few months and see to things then. Mr. Murdock said it’s best to wait a bit anyway . . . you don’t want to make decisions about something so personal right at first.” He put his hand over mine.

Yes. Pete Murdock was Daddy’s business partner in his law firm. Or . . . he had been. Living trust was the way to go, Dad always said. I now controlled a house in Sausalito, all my dad’s money and investments; everything of material possession he had acquired in his fifty-one years now belonged to me.

I didn’t want any of it. I just wanted my dad back.

A friendly voice interrupted my thoughts. “Brynne . . . oh, honey, here you are.”

I turned to find Jessica with her arms open. I went into them and hugged my friend tightly. Jess and I went back to elementary school. First grade, Mrs. Flagler’s class. Nearly inseparable all the way up till our senior year of high school, Thanksgiving break, to be exact.

Yes, Jessica had been with me the night it happened. She had been a true friend in my time of need, but I had been too sick for friendships after the event. I’d needed to go away. A necessary component to my recovery process. We’d kept in touch over the years since I’d been in London, but hadn’t seen each other in more than four years. She still looked tanned and athletic, her blond pixie haircut the perfect complement to her petite shape. I was touched she showed up here today to pay her respects to my father.

“I’m so sorry, Brynne. Your dad—he was just the sweetest man—l enjoyed our conversations every time we saw each other at the gym. He loved to talk about you.”

“Oh, Jess . . .” I felt my eyes go wet and the emotions come pouring out. “Thank you for coming—it means a great deal to me to see you here. He really liked you too. Thought you were very sweet.” We hugged again and I really looked at her. “It’s so good to see you again.” I turned to Ethan. “Jess, this is Ethan Blackstone, my fiancé.” I held up my hand and showed my engagement ring. “Ethan, meet Jessica Vettner, my friend since the first grade.”

“It’s a pleasure, Jessica,” Ethan told her as they shook hands. I wondered if he remembered that Jess was the one I went to the party with on that ill-fated night of my life. If he did remember, he didn’t show any signs of it. Ethan was smooth as silk in these situations.

Jessica turned to her companion then, and made introductions. Another face from my past. Karl Westman stood beside Jess. Wow . . . so many emotions there. I needed a moment to take it all in, I was so overwhelmed. Seeing Lance Oakley’s father earlier had been crazy enough. I had been in such a fog, though, I barely registered whatever it was he’d said to me. My mom had spent more time talking to the senator than I had. Now Karl was here too?

“Brynne, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Karl said and moved in to hug me.

“Hi, Karl. It’s been a long time.” It felt awkward, but I know it had to be for him as well. We had a small past together, but it wasn’t really that which made my broken heart feel like it was being squeezed from the inside out. It was that all four of us standing here together knew about it. They had either seen the video of me or they had knowledge of its existence.

I really wanted to go home more than ever now. “Thanks for coming today. It was very kind of you.”

“My pleasure.” Karl ended the hug and I searched his dark eyes. I didn’t see anything hurtful in them. Just some kindness and maybe a bit of curiosity. That had to be normal, right? We’d met at a track meet the season we were juniors, and then ran into each other at the beginning of my senior year. We’d gone out on dates that ended as all my dates had back in those days—covert sex in some private location. I’d liked him a lot. Karl was a cute boy then, and a handsome man now. We both shared a love of Hendrix and had had many discussions about his music. Jess was absolutely right about Karl still being “hawt” in her message on Facebook. He had always treated me well. Not a bit like Lance Oakley had treated me.