That went well. Not. Nick kept looking for Brooke throughout the rest of the wedding, to talk to her—to try to anyway—but she’d made herself scarce. Every now and then he’d spot her in huddles with Sanctuary staff or Heather, whom he now noticed was dancing cheek to cheek with Brandon to a jazz standard.
He looked at the time on his phone. Just a few minutes to ten. The wedding was over, and the guests would be heading to their cars, save the few who’d booked yurts. Tomorrow he’d be back at Brooke’s—
He hadn’t really considered that. He was her manny till August, and he had to make things right between them. He had to be there for her, no matter what their status was. That promise he’d never go back on.
He caught Brooke giving final directions to two of Heather’s event staff about packing up the wedding gear, and then she headed over to the dance floor, where his father and Cathy were swaying, both looking very happy. She hugged each of them, and then he watched her leave the meditation hall, slip off her heels and head toward the river.
Right behind you, he thought. He let his father and Cathy know he was heading out, congratulated them again, wished them a great honeymoon if he didn’t see them in the morning and then hurried after Brooke.
She was sitting on a flat-topped rock, throwing pebbles into the water.
“Can I sit here?” he asked, looking at the space beside her.
She started, clearly surprised to see him there, and gave a half shrug.
He took that as a yes and hopped up, glancing at the collection of pebbles she’d put beside her. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Brooke. It feels like a jumble—that’s the best way I can describe it. All I know for sure is that I want to be with you and the twins. I want to take care of the three of you.”
She glanced at him, then back at the river, whooshing along the plants and rocks. “I know. But I’m looking for a husband, and a father for Mikey and Morgan. That’s what I want. That’s what I need. A life partner. Not a rescuer. Not a promise-fulfiller. Someone who’s there because he wants to be. Every day.”
A lump grew in his throat. A husband. A father. Was that him? Why did his head feel like it was stuffed with steel wool?
“I know what I want,” she added. “You don’t.” She stared at the water and her expression was so sad that he wanted to gather her in his arms and just hold her, tell her everything would be okay.
But of course he couldn’t. He’d lost that ability, and it made him feel like hell.
Her expression changed—resolute, chin lifted. “And look, Nick, I can handle the twins from here on. My nanny is due back next week. I can take care of Morgan and Mikey, and do what I need to on the Satler wedding, on my own for a week. No problem there.”
But...
Wait.
So, she was saying he wasn’t her manny anymore? This was it? Didn’t he just tell her he wanted to be with the Timber family, to take care of them? That was what he wanted.
And hadn’t she just said what she wanted? A life partner. Not a rescuer.
Oh hell.
She hopped off the rock and picked up her heels. “I’m exhausted. Since this is your last night on duty, I wouldn’t mind if you kept the twins with you in your room overnight. I could really use a solid night’s sleep.”
“Of course,” he said, feeling his chest squeezing.
His final night with the twins. And Brooke—in the next room anyway. So, tomorrow morning they’d drive back to her house and he’d pack his duffel bag and leave?
That was exactly what he’d do. He’d go buy that ranch he’d been dreaming of for months.
That was his future. Him and the ranch, a couple of horses, the cattle, sheep, and chickens, and a few rescue dogs.
Alone and without Brooke or her boys.
That was what he wanted?
Nick’s entire life was in a green duffel bag and one garment bag containing his tan suit. How was that possible? This was everything he owned? He scowled at the realization that he didn’t have much to his name, except a decent bank account.
It had taken him five seconds to pack, and he’d been hoping to prolong it. He and Brooke had barely spoken on the two-hour ride back to Wedlock Creek. He’d had so much to say and nothing at all. And now here was, standing in the guest room of Brooke’s house, ready to go.
Dammit.
He slung the duffel over his shoulder and draped the garment bag over his arm. He’d said goodbye to the twins already. He’d actually said his goodbyes last night, in the yurt, and the fact that his eyes stung while doing so hadn’t escaped him.
He loved those babies.
But he’d done what he’d come to do, he supposed, and then his relationship with Brooke had taken on a life of its own, and now it was time to go. She wasn’t okay, because of him—and that was against the rules. But this was one time where he couldn’t fix things. Not the way she needed them fixed.
When they’d gotten back this morning, she’d asked if he’d stay with the twins for a half hour while she did some grocery shopping, and he’d been grateful for the extra time with the boys. But then they’d gotten tired and he’d put them down for their naps, standing there over their cribs and staring at them. He’d gotten all...verklempt watching them sleep, their little bow mouths quirking. This can’t be it, he’d thought, shaking his head. At the situation, at himself.
He’d been beside himself, so he’d given the house a final quick cleaning. He’d cleaned Snowball and Smudge’s food and water bowls, changed the cat litter, his least favorite task, and scratched their backs the way they liked. He’d miss the independent fur balls. He’d also done the twins’ laundry, and as he’d tossed a bunch of burp cloths in for a white wash, his heart seized. A tiny white square of cloth shouldn’t have such an effect on a former soldier, but it did. And he hadn’t been thinking about Elena or Aisha. He hadn’t been thinking about his mother or the years he’d spent Thanksgiving and Christmas without family.
He’d only thought about Brooke and the twins.
He heard her key in the lock and came downstairs. She opened the door and her gaze landed on it, and he saw her suck in a breath at the sight of him—and his luggage.
She gave him a bit of a smile and walked in, holding up the grocery bag. “I bought three blocks of cheese, and I’ll be having a roast-beef sandwich for lunch, with a bottle of my favorite Wyoming beer. A weekend is too long to go without cheese and alcohol.”
He appreciated her trying to lighten things. “I hear ya. I wonder if my dad will be giving up his nightly bourbon, since Cathy doesn’t drink. Name of love, I guess.”
He froze again, and her cheeks flushed. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he just done it again? He had. He really had.
He shook his head at himself. “I’m really, really bad at this. If it wasn’t clear before, it is now.”
She looked at him, her expression going from sad to forced neutral. “I guess we’re all just who we are, right? Can’t try to be something we’re not.”
He swallowed. He wished he could be. Because this sure as hell didn’t feel like him.
“Need help putting anything away?” he asked, gesturing at the grocery bag.
“Nah. Thanks for everything.” She turned her back to him and he knew she was crying.
Oh hell.
“The twins are napping,” he said. “If you need anything, Brooke, you just call me. Text me. I’ll be here in two seconds. Anytime, day or night.”
She nodded, her back still turned to him.
“I guess this is goodbye,” he said.
She turned around and lifted her chin. “I guess it is.”
He took one last look at her, and Snowball and Smudge weaved in between his legs one last time, as though they knew. Then he hoisted his duffel and left before he imploded.
Nick didn’t want to stay at his father’s house without his permission—and wasn’t about to text him on his honeymoon—and he wasn’t quite ready to even ask Brandon about staying at his condo, so he got a room at the Wedlock Creek Inn. The bed-and-breakfast was just a minute’s drive from Brooke’s, at the far end of Main Street. If she did need him, he could be there in a flash.
He tossed the duffel onto the bed. The room was nice enough—too nice, since he missed the simplicity of the yurt in a really-missing-Brooke-and-the-twins way. He sat down and pulled out his phone, checking the notes he’d made on the ranches for sale. Going to check them out would distract him, give him something to do. A few were a couple of hours away, but he didn’t like the idea of being that far away if Brooke needed him. An emergency. Anything. He should stay reasonably local, just in case.
There were two ranches for sale within twenty minutes, one just ten minutes out. He’d go see that one. He called the owner to set something up and got lucky—the guy was free in an hour. That would give him time to lie down and come to grips with what had happened, where he was, where he wasn’t, and clear his head.
Ping. A text. He grabbed his phone, hoping it was Brooke, hoping she needed something heavy moved or a screen door fixed, but it was Brandon.
It was crazy how his chest squeezed at the sight of Brandon’s name on his phone—probably same as it would have if it had been Brooke. Until very recently he hadn’t had a text from his brother in twelve years. Now suddenly they had a relationship.
Lunch at 1:00 p.m.? Have a crazy update about Heather—the woman of my dreams—if you’re interested.
Nick grinned. Well, I’ll be, he drawled to himself, wishing he had a cowboy hat to take off like John Wayne would have in surprised respect. His brother wanted to talk about his love life—with Nick. Nick texted back.
Meet you at Burger Heaven?
See you then.
And perfect timing. He was meeting a Henry Fieldstone at the ranch for sale, at eleven o’clock, and would be back in town by twelve forty-five at the latest.
He unpacked his few things to remind him that this was home for the time being, and then did some research on the ranch he’d be checking out. Right size, but a lot closer than he’d ever intended to be to Wedlock Creek. Then again, with things so good between him and his family, maybe he should consider staying within thirty minutes.
He left the inn, grabbed an iced coffee from Java Jane’s in the hopes that Brooke might be in there with the twins, just so he could see her again, but she wasn’t, and then drove the half hour to the Three Dog Ranch.
He liked the name, and the owner even had a big iron sign above the gate, with the silhouette of three dogs. The half-mile drive from the road to the ranch house was lined with huge trees, and the moment the house came into view, the three dogs bounded up to the car, running alongside till he parked it. He gave the three happy-looking mutts a pat, then extended his hand to Henry, a man in his midsixties, wearing a Stetson, jeans and work boots. He had some hay stuck to the side of his jeans, and Nick thought he’d like to have that problem.
“Love that smell of this country air,” Nick said.
“Me too. But I promised my wife we’d retire to Southern California, where it’s always warm, so I’m looking to sell. I love this place, but it’s time to go.”
He understood that sentiment all too well. “Well, if I bought the place, I’d keep the name and the sign, since I’m planning on adopting a couple of dogs myself. I’ll have to get three, of course.”
Henry laughed and began showing him around. The white farmhouse was in nice condition; it had a big gray barn that had a huge weather vane atop it, and almost fifteen hundred acres. He’d had a lot more cattle than he did now, but he’d sold most in preparation for the big move. A creek ran a thousand feet behind the house, and a chicken coop, painted hot pink, was already beside the barn.
“Wife loves pink,” Henry said. “The chickens were her pet project. The coop and chickens would stay.”
He wondered if Brooke would like ranch life. He tried to imagine her chatting up a hen as they collected eggs together on an ordinary morning. What was he doing? Why was he even thinking about it? He’d never intended to get married. To anyone.
But he could see Brooke sitting on the porch with her notes and planning a wedding, along with the Timber twins running around the yard, playing with the dogs. There was a gorgeous screened-in porch on the back side of the house, facing a well-tended garden, with sliding glass doors to a patio. He could see it as the Dream Weddings office.
He swallowed. He could see it. He could see it all. Brooke here. Children running around. A family, a life. Love. Commitment. Forever. The present and future in one.
But did he actually want it to happen? Why was he so damned stuck?
And besides, Brooke had a nice house, with her home office, and why would she want to move ten minutes out to the country, away from town and clients and her vendors?
Stop thinking about it.
An hour later he’d toured the property with Henry in his open Jeep, and listened as Henry told him the history of the place and the livestock he’d had, how the ranch had operated full swing. Nick drank it all in intently; he did want this life. Badly. He wanted to live here.
Then it was time to go. He shook Henry Fieldstone’s hand again, thanked him for the tour and information, and said he was very interested and would be in touch. He gave the dogs a last pat, took another look around and felt himself relax at the thought of this being his home. He then got in his truck and headed back to town.
He wished he could talk to Brandon about the ranch, get his opinion from a financial perspective, since his brother was a businessman and money guy, but he had no doubt Brandon would be upset that he was really planning on becoming a rancher instead of a paper pusher—literally—at Garroway Paper.
Maybe he’d keep the conversation to the women in their lives instead. Not that talking about Brooke would be any less difficult.
Brooke should have been working on the Satler wedding, but she couldn’t focus, not today. And with her heart barely hanging on, the last thing she wanted to do was to plan someone else’s big day.
She pushed the stroller up the path in Wedlock Creek Park, turning onto the grass and heading for the stately oak tree, where the boys’ favorite nature show, The Lenny and Squiggy Race, was always playing. She spread out a big blanket, parked the stroller and sat down beside it, waiting for the squirrels to make their appearance.
“I don’t see Lenny and Squiggy, but I’ll bet they’re around here somewhere,” she said.
“Ba da ga,” Mikey said, shaking his stuffed lion in his hand with a big gummy smile.
“Ta ba,” Morgan agreed, banging his fists on the little tray in front of his seat.
“Ah, there’s one squirrel,” she said, but it was too small and skinny to be either Lenny or Squiggy. Still, the furry gray creature darted from one branch to another, coming even closer as it surveyed the scene, then squeaked and started eating an acorn.
“Ba ba da!” Mikey said, mesmerized by the quick moving actions.
She’d never gotten to show Nick the park. Or the squirrels. She wondered what he was doing right now. Where he was staying. Maybe at his father’s. Or his brother’s. She couldn’t quite see either.
What she would give to go home and find him in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher or making spaghetti with his excellent meat sauce or folding the twins’ onesies. Or just to find him sitting on the sofa, doing absolutely nothing but being a great guy—just one who didn’t love her.
She held back the sob that threatened. Be present for the twins, she reminded herself, her gaze on her children. You can’t let a broken heart send you into a tailspin. They need you. You need you. The Satler sisters need you.
But she could use a good cry. She’d had one last night. Since Nick had kept the twins in his room at the yurt, she’d let herself cry long and hard over him, her hand stifling her sobs so he wouldn’t hear and burst in and insist on holding her. Could you make someone feel better if you were the cause of their heartbreak?
She couldn’t blame him anyway. She’d caused her own pain. She knew what she was getting into and she leaped right in anyway. She could hear her grandmother quoting, Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. No matter how bad it hurts.
Brooke agreed. But it did hurt.
Nick took a bite of his maple-bacon barbecue burger. Ah, that was good. He could barely believe he was sitting in Burger Heaven with his brother. They used to come here a lot, years ago. Many years ago. The owners had changed a couple of times, but the burgers were still amazing, and the fries perfect.
He’d never forget taking Brandon here in the days after their mother was diagnosed. Brandon had been a wreck, feeling sure they were going to lose her. Nick had been a wreck too, but he’d wanted to be strong for his brother. Maybe he’d been too strong—outwardly. Maybe he’d made Brandon think he wasn’t as affected as he was. But they’d come here and sat in the booth second from the door on the left, ordered two cheeseburgers with the works, and then both had just sat, staring at their plates, unable to touch their food, with Brandon sobbing. Nick had gone over to his side of the booth and put his arm around him, and the waitress had left him alone, except to bring a box of tissues, which Nick had appreciated. That waitress was still here too. He’d made a point of sitting in her section, unsure if she’d even remember them, but he wanted to be able to leave her a big tip.
“So, last night, after the wedding,” Brandon said, “Heather and I met at the riverbank and sat there, talking for hours. We didn’t leave until well after 2:00 a.m. And when I got back to my yodi or whatever that tent cabin is called, I lay in my bed, staring at the circular ceiling for hours, freaked out of my mind.”
Nick smiled. “It’s called a yurt. And if you and Heather are a couple, you should learn the lingo.”
“We are a couple.”
“Yurt. Yurt, yurt, yurt.”
“Ha, ha,” Brandon said, narrowing his eyes and taking a bite of his burger. But he grinned. “So, the thing I’m freaked out about is something you could probably help me with.”
Nick couldn’t be more surprised. “What’s that?”
“How’d you learn how to be a manny?” Brandon asked. “You seemed to know what you were doing immediately, even that first or second day at the dinner at Dad’s house. How’d you know how to even hold a baby or what to do when?”
That was when Brandon filled him in on Heather’s pregnancy. Wow, Nick thought. Brandon really was full of surprises.
Nick smiled and thought of Aisha. It was crazy how those memories didn’t poke and sting anymore. They simply felt like good memories. Right before he’d left Texas, he’d called the orphanage where Elena worked in Afghanistan and had asked how she was, how the adoption was going, and he’d been assured the two were doing great and that Elena was planning on bringing the baby home to Indiana by the end of summer.
“Turns out all you have to do is hold a baby once,” Nick said, “and you kind of figure it out as you go.” It was the truth. That was how he’d comforted Aisha in that first crazy hour he’d found her. And then he’d done some quick research on what a baby needed, based on her age, and he’d acted accordingly.
“Maybe I can practice with Brooke’s twins,” Brandon suggested. “Or twin. I’d like to stick with one.”
Nick laughed. “I’m sure she’d loan you one for an hour or so in her house. It’s like anything else new. You learn as you go. The key, though, is caring. That’s half the battle, really.”
Brandon took a sip of his beer. “Caring? What do you mean?”
“Well, when you care, really care, about something or someone, you want to get it right, you know?”
“I hope I get this thing with Heather right,” Brandon said, frowning. “I know I can be a bit much. That’s what my admin tells me sometimes anyway. It’s why I haven’t fired her for her insubordination. She calls me out when I need it.”
Who knew there were so many sides to Brandon Garroway? Not Nick, that was for sure. He certainly hadn’t known his brother appreciated pushback. There’d been a lot of that between them, particularly recently.
“I’ve been thinking about your refusal to come work for Garroway Paper,” Brandon said.
Nick felt his appetite slip away. Good thing he’d eaten most of his burger already. “And?”
“I think what I need to do with the baby I’ll be raising is start him or her in the business early. From the get-go. Bring the baby to work, even as an infant, talk about my day in the office and what I’m doing while I’m doing it. Kind of the way people talk to babies anyway. Isn’t that how babies learn to speak?”
Nick could hear the tot’s first word already: paper.
“Dad didn’t do that,” Brandon continued. “With either of us. But luckily I had it in my blood and veins anyway, so all’s good. But for someone like you, who doesn’t have that gene where family legacy is important, it needs to be instilled from birth. Every day.”
...who doesn’t have that gene where family legacy is important...
“I never said Garroway Paper wasn’t important to me,” Nick snapped, hating that his back was up.
“You didn’t have to. The company isn’t important to you. But I know now how to make sure it is important to my son or daughter.”
Deep sigh.
Nick had been hoping that, with Brandon falling in love and putting someone else first, his brother might start to see the world and his piece of it differently. Nope.
“And what if this child you raise doesn’t want to work at Garroway Paper, Brandon?”
“I can’t see how that would happen if the baby grows up in the office, learning about paper from infancy. We’ll spend all the major development periods in all the departments. Trust me, my child will have a love of paper and the family business.”
Sure sounded like a lot to heap on a child who wasn’t even born yet. “And if even after raising your kid at Garroway Paper, he or she wants to go a different path? Then what? Disowned? Out of the family? Out of the will? You go from love to indifference and disappointment just like that?”
Brandon looked away, chewing the inside of his mouth, and Nick could tell he’d finally gotten through that thick skull, even just a tiny crack. “Well, I’d be disappointed, yeah.”
Nick let out a breath. His brother just didn’t get it, and now Nick had gotten it through his own thick skull that he just had to let it go. The two of them were never going to see eye to eye on this. And that had to be okay. Because there was no other way for them to be brothers, to have a relationship.
“Can we agree to disagree on the subject?” Nick asked.
Brandon shrugged. “The company needs you. We’ll be here when you get this ranching thing out of your system. Because that’s how family is supposed to work. I was mad at you for a long time, Nick. But I shouldn’t have tried to kick you out of the family. That was wrong. When you’re ready to join Garroway Paper, we’ll be here for you.”
Nick swallowed. The apology, if that was what it was, meant a lot to Nick. But he was never going to work at the company. Never. And he was tired of saying so. The good news was they’d reached their truce, a place where they could move on.
“Okay, then,” Nick said, extending his hand.
Brandon shook it. “I never did get your advice about Heather. Here’s my question. Would you propose right now or wait? She thinks we should wait till we know each other better, but I know what I need to know now. I want to marry her. I want to legally adopt the baby the moment he or she is born.”
“Wow, you really love this woman,” Nick said in total wonder.
“When you know, you know. And if I’m nuts and this blows up in my face, at least I tried. At least I went with my gut. Right?”
At least I tried. Nick hadn’t tried very hard with Brooke, had he? Because his gut was sending him in the opposite direction. To the Three Dog Ranch. Alone.
“Follow your gut,” Nick agreed. “Propose. It’ll be up to her to accept or not. Worst’ll happen is that you’ll propose again in a couple of months.”
Brandon beamed. “I already bought a ring. One carat. That’ll show her I’m dead serious.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet ring box and opened it. The diamond was huge and twinkled. Wow. Good for Brandon.
“I hope she says yes,” Nick said, wishing he had it in him to propose to Brooke.
But right now he couldn’t imagine doing so. And he wasn’t sure why.