As a wedding planner, Brooke thought she’d heard it all. She’d gotten her share of out-there requests. The groom who thought it would be “fun” if his four prior girlfriends were invited to the reception, only in order to watch the first dance and see what they had lost out on. The bride who’d met her groom at a fast-food restaurant and wanted to “pipe in the particular aroma of those yummy burgers and fries” during the ceremony. Brooke had talked both out of those. Then there was the mother of the bride who thought Brooke’s role included babysitting all children at the wedding. No.
At this point she figured nothing anyone asked, for any reason, wedding or otherwise, could surprise her. Until she got a call yesterday from Brandon Garroway, asking if he could be a “mother’s helper” for a couple of hours to learn the ropes of taking care of a baby. “I need to show Heather I’m serious,” he’d said. “You can vouch for me that I basically took a class by training with you.”
Between being heartbroken and busy with the Satler wedding, and managing without her excellent manny, Brooke had wanted to say that she just didn’t have time to “train” a complete newbie in the art of baby care. But he’d been so danged earnest and she had to admit she’d been a bit moved by how hard he was trying.
He was trying. Other men with the last name Garroway weren’t trying at all.
So now Brandon was in her living room, bent over the stroller, watching her every movement and taking notes. He’d brought a small notebook with him and had filled three pages already. When Brandon had first arrived, he’d asked why the babies were “just sitting there” and if that was normal. So she’d spent fifteen minutes on development and stages, and he’d stood there in wide-eyed wonder, scrawling away in his notebook.
“And that’s how you unlatch the five-point harness,” she said, doing exactly that. “Then you reach in, scoop up the baby, careful to protect the neck if an infant, like so, and voilà, you’re holding a baby.”
Brandon nodded. “Got it. Can you put Mikey back in and latch him up? I want to start from scratch.”
She smiled, mentally shaking her head. “This is Morgan, but yes.”
For the next hour, Brandon played house, and Brooke had to say that he really seemed to be enjoying himself. He’d watched how she fed Mikey and then carefully positioned Morgan for his bottle, careful to hold the bottle just so, and when Mikey let out a satisfying burp, Brandon looked like he’d won a spectacular prize. He’d played with both twins in their swings and then ran up to the nursery to choose storybooks to read them. And finally he practiced packing the stroller bag and then placing a baby in the stroller.
“Extra diapers, pack of wipes, burp cloths, change of pj’s, sun hat, baby sunscreen—check,” he said with an accomplished smile, recalling the necessities for a summer stroll out on Main Street.
“You really want this to work with Heather, huh?” Brooke asked. She was truly touched by his passion. She had no idea if it could be lasting, if once Brandon actually got to know Heather, lovely as she seemed, they’d have any real chemistry or get along or have anything in common, for that matter, but for now he was in the throes of a fantasy and she hoped it did work out. Stranger things had happened.
“Yes, I do. She’s special. And the one. I’ve always heard I’d know it when I found her. And crazy as it is, since we just met a week ago, I know. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on her. Like you and Nick. You guys just knew.”
There went her eyes again, stinging away. “Nick was my nanny. That’s all. We were never a couple.”
It had been a full week since they’d returned from Sagebrush Sanctuary and Retreat, and though she hadn’t seen him since, Nick had texted every day with the same message. Just checking in.
And she’d text back.
Everything’s fine. No need to ask. I’ll let you know if the sky falls.
He’d send back a smiley-face emoji, but the next day he sent the same text. Just checking in.
A week without laying eyes on his face, hearing his voice. It was hell.
“Oh, please,” Brandon said. “You so are a couple. He’s being stubborn, right?”
“How’d you know?” she asked before she could stop herself. She shouldn’t be talking about Nick behind his back—and not with Brandon. Nick would not like that.
“I know. Same way I know he belongs at Garroway Paper and not some ranch, chasing cows around a pasture. He’s being stubborn about that and he’s being stubborn about his real feelings for you. He can’t face it. He can’t face any of it.”
Was it wrong that she was very interested in his brother’s psychoanalysis? That very subject was all Brooke could think about last night and today. Why this and why that, and if only this and if only that.
“I know he’ll come around to working for the company,” Brandon said. “And trust me, the way he is with you? The way he looks at you? He’s in love and has no idea.”
She bit her lip, hoping against hope that Brandon was right. But she didn’t want him to be right about Garroway Paper, since she knew that wasn’t the case. Nick wanted to be a rancher. Not working in an office, even if it was the family business.
So, was it dopey to hope he was right about the second part—the part where she came in?
Brandon’s phone rang and he glanced at it. “It’s Cathy,” he said with a smile. “They probably just got back from London.” He clicked a button. “Hey, Cathy, how was the honeymoon?” He listened, his smile turning into a frown, then a grimace, and then his hands started shaking.
“Brandon, what is it?” Brooke asked, panic rising.
“My dad collapsed at the airport. He was rushed to Brewer General, twenty minutes away.”
Oh no. “Did Cathy call Nick?” she asked.
He nodded but looked like he might faint. He was just standing there, trembling, still holding the phone in his hand.
She quickly put Morgan in the stroller, beside Mikey. “I’ll drive. Let’s go,” she said, throwing open the door and rushing to her car. She got the boys in their car seats and hurried to the driver’s side, but Brandon was standing by the car door, his complexion ashen. She ran around and opened the door and guided him in. “Hey, let’s get over to the hospital,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze before shutting the door and running back around to the driver’s side.
As she drove, Brandon’s cell rang and he answered it.
“We’re on our way,” he said, his voice cracking. “Did you hear anything? Is he okay?” He listened, biting his lip, and Brooke’s heart broke for how nervous and scared he was. “Okay. Okay. See you soon.”
“Was that Nick?” she asked. “They’re doing tests?”
He nodded. “They don’t know what’s wrong yet. Cathy is beside herself.”
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” she assured him, driving as fast as she could without risking anyone’s life or getting pulled over. Finally they arrived at the Emergency entrance, and against all odds someone was pulling out of a prime spot just as they were coming in. She grabbed the spot and got the twins into the stroller in record time, and they rushed in.
Nick stood at the sight of them. He looked as stricken as his brother, his face so pale, the blue eyes worried and scared.
Brandon flew into Cathy’s arms for a hug. “Have you heard anything?” Brandon asked.
“An ER doctor came out to talk to us just a few minutes ago,” Cathy said. “She said Jeb had a minor heart attack.”
“What?” Brandon choked out. He stared from Cathy to Nick and back to Cathy.
Cathy took Brandon’s hands. “He’s going to be fine. It was minor. But it means he needs to take a couple of weeks off and take it very easy and change his diet. I’ve been after him about that, but trust me, he’ll be eating the Cathy way from now on.”
“He’s going to be okay?” Brandon sank into a chair, staring from Cathy to Nick.
Nick nodded. “The doctor said Dad appears to be out of the woods and indications are that he should make a full recovery.” Regardless, he looked so shaken and upset that Brooke wished she could pull him into an embrace, soothe him somehow. But of course she couldn’t. “He’ll take medication and, as Cathy said, completely relax for a couple of weeks. We can go see him in about ten minutes. A nurse will come get us.”
Brandon sucked in a breath and let it out. “Okay. He’s going to be fine. We’ve got a big meeting this week that Dad was looking forward to, but I’ll handle it. And I won’t send him any details. No work, no news of work. He should just relax.”
Cathy nodded. “We’re on the same page, then. No talk of work or the office. Not a peep.”
Brandon nodded. “I’ve got this, Dad,” he whispered to no one in particular, then squeezed his eyes shut.
Nick stood up. “I won’t leave you in the lurch, Brandon. You or Dad. And you too, Cathy. You’re part of this family now. So I’ll be joining Garroway Paper.”
Brandon’s eyes popped open and he gasped. “Really?”
Really? Brooke wanted to second but Nick looked as serious as a... She sighed, thinking he was operating on the same thoughts that had him becoming her manny. Doing what he thought was right. Regardless of what he wanted or needed. But that was Nick Garroway.
Nick nodded, standing ramrod straight, like a soldier. “Tomorrow’s Monday. Good day to start.”
Brandon stood up and extended his hand, then pulled Nick into a brief hug. “Means a lot, Nick. Thanks.”
Nick nodded, and Brooke tried to read his expression. Somewhere between determined and grim.
Cathy patted Nick on the shoulder, and Brooke sent him a smile, but she couldn’t keep it on her face.
Was Nick really going to work for Garroway Paper? He was going to show up tomorrow, at 9:00 a.m., in a suit and tie, with a briefcase, and become passionate about paper? Okay, his reasons for joining the family business had nothing to do with paper and everything to do with his dad, who was lying on a hospital cot. And about his brother, who needed him.
Finally a nurse came in and said they could go see the patient, two at a time. Nick sent Brandon and Cathy, and he and Brooke sat back down, Brooke giving the stroller a gentle push as Mikey started to fuss a bit.
“You’re joining Garroway Paper temporarily until your dad is back on his feet?” she asked.
“I’m not looking at it that way,” he said, his blue eyes full of emotions she couldn’t pinpoint. Regret and resolve, maybe. Worry. Sadness. “I’m needed there. My dad needs me. My brother needs me. That’s all that matters. We could have lost my father. Just like that—gone. Like my mother. I want to do what’s right.”
Oh, Nick, she thought. But she couldn’t say anything, so she just reached out for his hand and held it.
On Monday Nick put on the tan suit and showed up for work at Garroway Paper an hour early, at 8:00 a.m. He’d barely slept last night, his mind a jumble—the company, his dad’s health, the fear in his brother’s eyes, even though Jeb was okay. And Brooke. Seeing her last night at the hospital with the twins had seemed so natural, as though of course she’d been there, because she was family.
He hadn’t blinked an eye at her being there. Until he’d realized why. And then his skin had gotten all itchy. The word family was loaded for him—maybe that was why. He’d tossed and turned, trying to figure it all out, and then he’d given up and read over some Garroway Paper information he’d asked Brandon to email him. The reports might as well have been in French or Swahili for all he could make sense of them. And they were boring as hell too.
He was sure he’d find his niche in the company. He’d try a few departments and see where he might be able to do some good. There had to be one. He wasn’t a business guy. Or a finance guy. Or a salesman. He was all right at strategy though, making a plan and leading troops through dangerous territory. There might be some kind of equivalence at Garroway Paper, sort of.
There was one car in the parking lot when he arrived. Brandon’s. He parked beside him and headed in, sucking in a deep breath as he pulled open the glass door.
Here goes nothing. And everything.
He found Brandon in his corner office, his head burrowed over a stack of memos.
“Nick Garroway, reporting for duty,” he said.
Brandon looked up, looking weary. “I’ve been here since six o’clock. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
“I called Cathy a little while ago,” Brandon said. “Dad was demanding a cappuccino with three sugars, a cheese Danish and today’s Wall Street Journal. She had the nurse bring him a clementine, a hard-boiled egg, a slice of whole-grain toast and bottled water, and gave him a gratitude journal to record his thoughts.”
Nick smiled. “Thank heavens for Cathy.”
“Right?” Brandon said with a nod.
“Well, I’m ready to start my day, my new role, at Garroway Paper,” Nick said. “I’ll buy a briefcase at lunch. No idea what you business types put in those, but I’m sure I’ll find out fast.”
Brandon stared at Nick for a moment, then stood and reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a magnetic door placard and held it up. It read Nicholas Garroway.
“I can’t remember the last time anyone called me Nicholas,” Nick said, the sight of that thing making his stomach clench. He’d have to get over it. He was here now. He worked here. This was his future.
“Mom called you Nicholas,” Brandon said.
Nick almost gasped. He hadn’t expected Brandon to say that, let alone remember.
“She loved that name and liked using it,” Brandon said. “You want to know what she said the night before she died?”
Nick felt his legs get wobbly and he sat down. So did Brandon.
He wasn’t sure he did want to know.
Brandon was looking at the floor, then out the window. Finally he turned to face Nick. “She said, ‘Nicholas always follows his heart. That’s the way to happiness. The only way.’”
Now Nick did gasp. “She said that?”
Brandon’s eyes filled with tears, and he nodded. “It was one of the last things she said. Other than ‘I love you and your brother more than anything in the world. And your father, of course. The love of my life.’ That was the last thing she said to me.”
Tears stung Nick’s eyes too. He hadn’t been at the house that night; the tension between him and his brother and father was so high, and of course Nick hadn’t expected to lose his mother that night. No one had. “But you said—”
“I was a stupid fourteen-year-old who hated you for being about to deploy. Stuff flew out of my mouth, anything I could think of to make you feel like the hell I felt.”
Nick sucked in a breath. “I did already.”
“I’m sorry,” Brandon said, wiping at his eyes. “I’m so sorry. For being a terrible brother. And a terrible person. But when I thought I might lose dad, all I could think was, I have Nick back, I have Nick back, I have Nick back. And all those old feelings came back too, you know? I mean from before, when we were close.”
Nick could barely find his voice. “We’re close now.”
Brandon took a breath. “I want to be the person Heather deserves. That her baby deserves. So this?” he said, holding up the placard. He stood and opened the window, then chucked the name sign right out of it. Right below the window was a gated area with bushes blocking the heating systems, so Nick had no doubt Nicholas Garroway was lying in those bushes somewhere.
His brother had just thrown his name sign out the window.
Nick stared at him. “What?”
“You don’t belong here, Nick. I finally get it. You’ve been saying that your whole life, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t care. I only saw you through my eyes, not as you were. Are. You were meant to be a soldier. Now you’re meant to be a rancher. And you’re meant to be with Brooke and the twins. You have to follow your heart, like Mom said you did. Do it now.”
You’re meant to be with Brooke and the twins. He’d put his feelings for the Timber family in a square box called Responsible For. They’d been on his checklist and he understood checklists. Why had he been able to walk away from Garroway Paper when it came to “responsibility” but not Brooke and her twins? He’d immediately become her nanny. He’d felt solely responsible for her and the twins’ well-being. So why hadn’t that sense of commitment extended to the family business? And if it was a sense of commitment, why couldn’t he actually commit to Brooke? None of this made any sense.
He’d never been able to answer these questions, and they’d kept him up at night all week.
“One thing at a time,” Nick said. “I’m on overload as it is.”
“Go buy your ranch,” his brother said. “I’ll even help you name those chickens you want. And propose to Brooke already. Wedlock Creek Jewelers has really nice diamond rings.”
He swallowed, keeping his gaze out the window instead of on his brother, who was eyeing him with the look of a guy who thought he knew the deal.
Nick did belong with Brooke and the Timber twins. That was never in doubt. From a taking-care-of-them standpoint. But could he be with her the way she wanted and needed? A husband, a father?
How could Brandon have this all figured out when Nick was so far behind?
Something occurred to him just then. Wouldn’t marrying Brooke be the ultimate in taking responsibility for her and the babies? When he looked at it that way, he felt instantly more comfortable.
“Where’s the jewelry shop?” Nick asked.
Brandon grinned. “Two doors down from Java Jane’s. Next to the florist. Might as well pick up a bouquet too.”
“Wait, did you propose to Heather?” Nick asked.
Brandon grinned. “Sure did. She said no. For now. She told me to ask her again in a month. And a month after that.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Nick said. He had a feeling that, despite how short a time Heather had known his brother, she knew exactly how to deal with him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Heather turned him down a month from now, but said yes when they were together three months. She’d probably insist on waiting a year to actually marry.
Marry. He mentally shook his head, but the word didn’t dislodge as it usually did when he tried to relate it to himself. It stayed there, hanging out in his brain. Marry. Marriage. Husband and wife.
He could take care of Brooke and the twins. And have them with him all of the time. That was what he wanted. But something was missing, something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Maybe he should stop thinking so much and just do, act.
And now that he didn’t have to work this morning, that was his new plan.