The Reluctant Fiancée (The Taylor Triplets Book 3) Read online

  “And you expect a woman that’s never had a baby help you figure that out?”

  They laughed, then things went quiet.

  “Here’s the thing,” Rory said, “you can’t wait to overcome all your fears before you start living. So it’s up to you guys to work out the details, again, but you’ve got to be straight with each other. Tell him exactly how you feel, see where you can compromise and where you absolutely can’t. Hopefully that won’t be a deal breaker.”

  “It makes so much sense when you put it like that, but somehow I always muddle things up in my mind when I should talk about it.”

  “Well, don’t ever muddle this up. Remember I love you, and I’ll support whatever you decide. I’m on your side, kiddo, and we’ll be friends for life. I hope that matters a little.”

  Brynne’s eyes stung. A blurry vision of her mom came to mind in her favorite flannel shirt telling her the same, when Brynne had first told her about the engagement. She pulled Rory to standing and wrapped her arms around her honorary mom, trying her best not to cry. “Thank you, that means the world to me.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Did you bring the dress?” was the first thing out of Eva’s mouth when she opened the door of the rental.

  “Of course!” Brynne held up the box. “Haven’t even opened it yet. Thought I’d save it for the three of us.” Surprising herself, Brynne had come up with the idea at her apartment. Since they’d picked it out together. She’d consider it another bonding session with her sisters. Or was the real reason she’d been procrastinating about looking at the dress because of what it represented?

  Eva led the way across the family room, where Joe and Zack were roughhousing with the kids, Emma playing referee to their fake wrestling matches with Noah while keeping her eye on Estrella, who happily crawled in and out of the fray. A basketball game was muted on the extra-large flat screen mounted on the main wall. The visual caused a strange sensation in her chest.

  Brynne waved and smiled at everyone as they made their way to the stairs and in return received the usual warm welcome. Both men jumped up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Emma rushed to hug her around the waist, as though she’d known Brynne her entire short life. It was strange but endearing, and she found herself hugging the young one tight. Maybe this was how it felt to have a house full of kids, but it also felt like a room full of love.

  Everyone already considered her one of the family, and she couldn’t deny, the comradery was growing on her.

  “We’ve reserved the master suite for the evening,” Eva said, mounting the stairs, wearing a handkerchief-hemmed print dress in blue tones with a darker blue bolero-length sweater. Something Brynne would expect to see in the summer, not fall in Utah. But what could she expect from a person born and raised in Southern California, where, evidently, they had eternal spring as their weather forecast? She’d also expect to see such an outfit in a women’s fashion catalog. Eva directed her up the stairs and two doors down to a bedroom big enough for a family of five, where Lacy nursed little Johnny while lounging on an enormous bed.

  “If this isn’t a good time...”

  “Are you kidding? It’s never a good time with this guy,” Lacy said, looking down at the bump of head beneath a light yellow blanket, love written on her face.

  “Don’t even think of it. We’ve got refreshments and everything,” Eva said. She walked to a portable three-tiered drink and food service cart. “We’ve got assorted crackers and cheese. Drink?”

  The rental house apparently had everything a busy hostess could want. The thought amused Brynne, who hadn’t a clue about hostessing. “What are you having?”

  “I recommend the smoked gouda with wheat. Good pairing for taste. How about wine? There’s a nice German Riesling here.” She lifted the bottle and read the label.

  With Brynne’s usual experience when selecting wine being limited to house white or red, something from Germany sounded adventurous. “Sure. Might give me the courage to open this box.”

  “You haven’t opened it yet?” Lacy piped up with an incredulous tone.

  “You really are a terrible shopper,” Eva said dryly as she opened the bottle and poured. “Are you afraid it will look gorgeous and you’ll immediately want to get re-engaged?”

  Brynne used the sudden burst of frustration to focus on tearing up the brown box to get to the dress inside.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Did I just tick you off? I have a way of being pushy,” Eva said, finishing the pour and handing Brynne a glass, mid–cardboard rip. “Forgive me. If you’re not ready to get engaged again, then I need to keep my mouth shut.” But she didn’t. “Lacy, you ready for wine?”

  “In a minute. I’m almost done here.”

  Brynne inhaled and forced herself to calm down. Her throat suddenly felt closed up, and her shoulders ached.

  Eva came back to Brynne. “And if you don’t want to talk about it, as much as it will kill me, we’ll understand.”

  Then Eva tapped her glass with Brynne’s, and both took sips. Brynne pretended nothing was wrong, that she did this every day—visited people, quaffed wine and tried on wedding dresses for weddings that weren’t officially rescheduled. Yet? But the dry white wine moved over her tongue with surprising hints of fruit, helping her relax a bit. At least Rory understood how she felt. Maybe her sisters could, too.

  “Okay, let’s see that dress,” Lacy said with a curious gaze, giving Brynne the excuse to get right to the task.

  Once the box was completely open, Brynne pulled out the off-white dress wrapped in tissue paper. As the dress unfurled, the tissues dropped to the floor.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Eva confirmed her approval.

  “Just like on the website. Try it on!” As Lacy burped John, she watched the main attraction from the king-size bed surrounded by what seemed like dozens of fluffy throw pillows.

  Brynne should have felt self-conscious stripping down in front of anyone other than Paul, but curiously she didn’t, figuring, being triplets, they all had the same body with only the hint of individuality. She just hoped she wore hers well. Lacy, having just given birth, was way bigger on the top. Eva had a waist only daily crunches could produce. Down to her panties and bra, Brynne’s defining feature was a three-inch scar on the right side of her lower abdomen from an emergency appendectomy at age fourteen.

  “Wait a second,” Eva said. “I’ve got that scar.”

  Brynne stopped cold in the process of unzipping and stepping into the dress. “You do?”

  “I do, too!” Lacy said. “Late spring, when I was fourteen. It’s all stretched out right now, thanks to the pregnancy, but it used to look just like yours.”

  “It will again, too, dear sister, have no fear. See, mine has gone back to the original size.” Eva proudly displayed hers by lifting the handkerchief-hemmed dress for show-and-tell. “Same year, but summer.”

  “Wait, we’ve all had appendectomies?” Chills ran over Brynne’s skin. “I was supposed to be a junior camp counselor that summer when I got appendicitis. That’s crazy.”

  “Well, our bodies must be on the same timeline,” Eva said.

  “Is that possible?” Lacy asked.

  Was that a medical thing? “I’m the nurse and I don’t have a clue, but it does kind of make sense. Freaky but plausible.”

  Brynne quickly went back to donning the dress. Eva stepped in to help with the zipper. Then she moved back to let Brynne make a slow circular turn in front of the mirror.

  Lacy sucked in a breath. “Looks more beautiful on you than that model at the website.”

  “I agree,” Eva said. “It’s perfect for you.”

  As usual they were being kind, because that was the way they were. But when Brynne looked in the mirror and saw the short white V-neck sheath with overlying blouson bodice covered in swirling beads and sequins, she had to agree. It was perfect for her.
She turned to look at it from every angle.

  “What about shoes?” Eva asked.

  “I have the pair I bought for the wedding last March. Never could bring myself to return them. They should work.”

  “Good. And how will you wear your hair?” Eva playfully flipped Brynne’s braid up in the air.

  Brynne went still. “For what?”

  “For when you get, uh, I mean wear it.”

  “This is a revenge dress, remember? Nothing more.”

  “But I thought we had it all worked out,” Lacy continued, disappointment obvious in her tone. Maybe a little frustration, too.

  Which set off Brynne’s. “You had it worked out? You mean I have to add your timeline to Paul’s?” She’d been pushed to the limit on all sides and couldn’t hold back her true feelings. “I feel like everyone’s ganging up on me.”

  Eva waited for Brynne to take a breath, watching her carefully, then pursed her lips, thinking. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry! The last thing we want to do is upset you. But honestly, Brynne, the way you and Paul act around each other, we assumed your breakup was some little game you were playing.”

  “Are you willing to tell us what’s really going on?” Lacy asked.

  Brynne should feel beautiful in the pretty dress, but instead anger took over. Mom had taught her to always speak up for herself, to never let people run roughshod over her. “We have unresolved issues, and I can’t move ahead until we’ve worked them out.”

  “Well, we certainly didn’t know that part. From what Eva and I see, it’s obvious you love Paul, and honey, if you can’t tell how much he loves you, you need to start wearing glasses.”

  Brynne’s hands sneaked toward her face and cupped her ears. “And therefore we should get married?”

  “Again, forgive us for overstepping our bounds.” Eva narrowed her eyes and stared. “But why’d you buy the dress, then?”

  “Like I said, to get back at Paul. He gave me free rein with his credit card, and I wanted to make him pay for giving me that ultimatum. We’d all just met. And, to be completely honest, it was a fun way to get to know you two.” The explanation was all over the place and messed up, just the way she felt. About everything since Mom died. Since Paul gave her the ultimatum and especially since her two sisters showed up.

  “With no intention to use it to get married in?” Eva continued to stare.

  Brynne recalled being up front about that. Hadn’t she? “I verified this dress could be used for other occasions, and you said yes.”

  The festive reason for the night had long disappeared.

  “Look, I’m totally mixed up about getting married. Something just clicked inside when Mom died. As if it put a dark cloud on marriage. I haven’t been able to get the enthusiasm back about the wedding since.”

  “What about Paul?” Lacy asked.

  Brynne tried to unzip the dress herself. Eva’s hand stopped her. “Stop. Just leave me alone. You just show up out of nowhere and start running my life. Everyone seems to be on Paul’s side, and I’m...”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Eva shot back. “No one is out to get you. We’re trying to help you get back on track. That’s all.”

  “You don’t know what’s best for me. You don’t even know me!” Could she sound more defensive?

  The room went quiet. After a few seconds, Lacy began in a calm voice after she laid Johnny on the bed. “When my dad died—” she stood and walked toward Brynne “—I went to a grief group, and they told me how important it was to let out my anger.” She put her hand on Brynne’s arm, gently stroking her. “Sudden deaths do that—make people mad. Getting in touch with that anger is part of the process of letting go.”

  “And I was told by a counselor not to rush into anything,” Brynne shot back, standing her ground. “Not to make big decisions.” She made contact with Lacy’s questioning gaze. “And it seems that’s all everyone is asking me to do these days.”

  “I’m so sorry, Brynne.” Lacy didn’t flinch. “That’s the last way we want to come off.”

  “Mom’s gone. I’ll never have her back.” And they never had her at all, it occurred to her. They were wading into sticky territory.

  “Paul wants to fix the situation by marrying me and moving on.”

  “That’s what guys do. Tell him to stop. Ask him just to listen.” Lacy seemed to have an answer for her every doubt.

  “Honestly, I think I would have by now, but you guys had thrown my life for a loop, too.” Sorry to be that way, but unable to stop herself, Brynne took off the dress and put her clothes back on in silence. It was awful being the one responsible for the thick tension that had descended in the room. She’d just insulted her sisters, which proved she had no clue how to be part of a family.

  She avoided all contact until she was dressed and ready to leave. Completely aware of the dead silence, but trudging on, she left the dress with them, maybe as a reminder not to push her around, then said good-night, thanked them for the wine and left for home.

  I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.

  * * *

  The next morning, as scheduled, Rory and Brynne rummaged through the one remaining cardboard box with more of her mom’s papers and items, together at the small home Brynne had grown up in. After Mom had given Brynne the apartment at the store rent-free until she got her first nursing job, Rory had moved in to Brynne’s old bedroom to help offset expenses. Or so they’d said. It had all seemed logical, and Brynne appreciated her independence.

  Brynne had alienated her sisters last night and left under awkward and strained conditions. If they never wanted to talk to her again, she wouldn’t blame them. The least she could do was help them with what they’d come to Utah searching for.

  She and Rory had dealt with all the important papers and insurance policies after Jessica’s death. It had been a huge comfort having someone to go through it with, though, as usual, Paul had also offered to help at every point. This time she and Rory hunted for correspondences and personal items.

  “Do you ever remember me getting a condolence card and some flowers from an aunt Allison?”

  “Vaguely,” Rory said. “We were both a mess around that time, though.”

  Brynne realized Rory was wearing one of Mom’s old tops and wondered if that was comforting somehow. Then she remembered keeping a pair of Mom’s favorite goofy socks. They had stacks of books all over them, and sometimes she still put them on. “Why did I throw out all the cards?”

  “You didn’t want to be reminded.” Rory gave an understanding gaze. “It was a rough time.”

  “If I’d only known she’d possibly be a key to this puzzle.”

  “You didn’t have a clue you were part of a puzzle yet.”

  “True.” Brynne snapped her fingers. “What about our local florist? Wouldn’t they keep a record of who sent flowers when?”

  Rory’s eyes brightened. “Great idea! I’ll give them a call.”

  As Rory drifted into the kitchen to use a landline for the call, Brynne dug deeper into the box, coming up with nothing. In the background, Rory’s slightly nasal voice queried the local shop owner. She sat back on her heels and sighed, her vision panning the room. Though evidence of Rory filled the room, there was still much of what Brynne had grown up with all around her. This had been her home since she’d been three years old.

  Brynne noticed in the corner, on the second shelf of the bookcase, was a small stack of letters tied with a ribbon. Had they come from this box? Had they already looked at them, or had Rory separated them for a reason? Maybe Rory had forgotten to mention them, or maybe they had nothing to do with her mother, but Brynne was desperate. From sitting on her knees, she got up then took the few steps to reach the letters and cards. Rory continued with her interview in the other room. Untying the rose-colored ribbon, Brynne recognized her mother’s writing, and her pulse quickened.

/>   For Rory, the top envelope said. It was none of her business, but she missed her mother, longed to read her writing again and, on impulse, wanted to see the kind of birthday card she’d give her best friend. They’d always teased each other and loved to laugh together. It would probably be a funny card, sling some kind of insult, or general absurdity, and she could use a good laugh about now, remembering one more good thing about her mother—even though, growing up, Brynne had thought her mom’s sense of humor was lame. With a deep hunger to bring a piece, any piece, of her mom back, she went for it.

  Pulling the card from the lavender envelope, she was surprised to see it was a frilly Valentine’s card. Odd.

  My dearest Rory,

  She read on and caught her breath.

  Everyone loves a good love story,

  But ours will always be my favorite.

  With all my love,

  Jessica.

  Brynne’s heart stumbled over the next few beats as she reread the card. Friends said love ya or hugs, not...

  Though she was off balance, with her ears ringing, she let the words sink in. With all my love.

  She’d driven Mom and Rory to the airport a decade ago, dropping them off at the international terminal then watched from the car as they walked, arms around each other, ready for the biggest adventure of their lives. At twenty-one, she’d thought nothing of it. They were best friends, supporting each other. They were heading to France for the first time, and Brynne believed no one deserved a vacation as much as her mom and Rory.

  Then, upon their return, Mom gave the newly available apartment above the bookstore to Brynne. She’d said it was about time her adult daughter had her own place.

  Even though they’d kept separate bedrooms, it became clear to Brynne that her mother and Rory were more than friends. She’d seen how Rory looked at her mother and how her mother passed secret glances back.

  Though she was still breathless, her gaze slowly drifted over her shoulder toward the kitchen, where it had gone quiet. She found Rory, solemn-faced, watching her.