Chapter Six
“Yes, Mother,” Brie sighed into the phone. “I’ll be at brunch tomorrow.” Like it was a rare occurrence instead of a weekly event. One she’d stuck to even last Sunday when she’d secretly clung to her night of deviance in the face of the country club superiority.
Her mother’s crowd lived to believe they were better than everyone else, and Joanne Wakeford was the head cheerleader. Brie had been raised to fall right in line and she had—until last Friday night.
Her facade of perfection had never felt so heavy.
“Good.” The pleased note grated on Brie’s frayed nerves. “Rose Jacobson’s son is going to be at brunch too. You remember him, right? He graduated a few years ahead of you,” she went on before Brie could respond. “He’s recently divorced and—”
“Mother,” Brie cut her off, her teeth clenched against her frustration. “Please,” she rushed on, forcing lightness into her voice. “Do you really want me to be the rebound girl?” She winced at the callousness, but the sentiment aligned to her mother’s way of thinking.
A sharp intake of air snapped through the phone on an offended note. “Of course not.” Brie could picture her mother, her lips pursed, sculpted brows dipping as she scrambled to salvage her plan. “But he’s a doctor. In Seattle, which isn’t that far from here. And—”
“The last thing he probably wants is to be set up by his mother when he’s on vacation.” She bit her tongue to hold back her own distaste at having yet another “eligible” man thrust upon her by her mother. “I have to go,” she said before the conversation spiraled further. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye, Brighton. Wear something nice,” her mother added before she hung up.
Brie’s nails dug into her palm in a painful bite before she forced her hand to relax. When had she ever set foot in the country club not looking nice? Never. That’s when.
Her exhausted sigh dragged her shoulders down along with her floundering strength. She braced her head against the wall and stared unseeing out her bedroom window. The shallow alley that counted as the backyard between the line of attached homes in the Inner Sunset provided little to look at anyway, even when the fog wasn’t present.
Her mother’s last comment rang in her head in a persistent cycle that picked at every little dig her mother had snuck into their short conversation. Her stomach contracted around the burning resentment she’d harbored for so long it’d become a part of her. The one built on her inability to tell her well-meaning mother to go to hell.
At least she tried to believe her mother’s constant nitpicking and gibes were done with the desire to help. Joanne had shoved her expectations and beliefs onto her two daughters, and as the oldest, Brie had taken the brunt of it. A burden she’d carried to spare her sister, who was two years younger.
Her sister had fled the area for college over ten years ago and had never looked back—unlike Brie.
She turned away from the window, her gaze catching and holding on the mirror over her dresser. Her reflection showed the straitlaced, well-mannered woman her mother had groomed, and Brie had never rebelled against.
Until last Friday.
A sly grin stole over her face to flash back at her from the mirror. The rush of her secret hummed through her chest, setting off a chain reaction of want. Memories swooped in to flush her with the sensation of being touched, protected, even cherished for accepting what those men had willingly given her: debauched pleasure.
She clamped her lips shut, stifling the groan that rumbled in her throat. It’d been a one-time deal. That was it.
A knock echoed through the apartment from the front door to yank Brie out of her thoughts.
“I’ll get it,” she called to her roommate as she hurried down the hallway. She glanced into the living room to catch Amy’s eye. “It’s for me.”
Her roommate nodded around her boyfriend, who was snuggled into the couch beside her. A small douse of envy tried to sneak its way beneath Brie’s lowered resistance before she slammed the empty emotion down. Boyfriends weren’t required for happiness.
She swung her door open, her purse tucked over her shoulder, jacket in her hand. “I’m ready,” she told Lori as she stepped outside. She plastered on a smile and forced back the wave of weariness that’d almost had her begging off.
Lori’s brows winged up, question meshing with surprise. “Okay.”
Brie took off down the sidewalk before she could be grilled. Lori was way too insightful, and Brie’s emotions were too close to the surface for a frontal attack. The last week had been an undulating cycle of charge forward and retreat as she’d processed the shocking amount of emotional garbage her one night of wild passion had dislodged.
Her usually talkative friend stayed quiet as they walked the few blocks to the Irish pub, which was either a testament to Lori’s intuition or a nod to the obvious vibes Brie was throwing off.
She snagged an open booth by the front widow and slid onto the wooden bench seat. She rested her head against the high back of the bench and closed her eyes for one long beat that didn’t end.
“Are things that bad?” Lori asked, concern lacing through her voice.
“No,” Brie answered, her response automatic. “I’m just tired.” Drained would be a better word, maybe. She forced her eyes open and added a smile as reassurance. “It was a long week.”
A splash of sun darted through the window to highlight the subtle strands of blond in Lori’s auburn hair. “How so?”
Brie gave a dismissive shrug. How did she explain the lethargy that’d hit her on Tuesday, which had had her dragging ass the rest of the week and put her mind in a scattered mess? And that didn’t touch on the shifting tide of delight and ridicule that slammed home whenever she thought of that night.
“You crashed, didn’t you?” Lori stated more than asked.
“Is that what this is?”
“Yeah.” Her nod was backed with a grim smile. “It’s fairly common after an intense scene like you had.”
Brie’s eyes bugged out at that piece of information. “And you didn’t think to warn me about this?”
“First, I wasn’t sure if you’d go through with the night.” Lori dismissed her grievance with a wave of her hand. “And second, why would I give you more ammunition to reject what you obviously really wanted?”
Lori’s counterargument had a wealth of flaws and an equal number of truths that Brie couldn’t debate. Well, she could—if she’d had the will to do so. The reality was, she’d gone into that night of her own free will.
She’d been expecting the usual array of sex toys her more adventurous friend loved to shock her with for her birthday gift. Instead, to welcome her into her thirties, she’d received a wild, intense, eye-opening sexual experience.
One she couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how hard she tried.
“Why was it so important to you that I went?” she asked. Lori hadn’t pushed her, but she’d talked Brie through every scenario and step until completing the prerequisite NDA and medical test had felt almost normal.
“Because I thought you’d like it.”
“Why would you think that?” It wasn’t like Brie had ever divulged any of her deepest desires to her.
A slow grin spread in a devious slide over Lori’s face. “Because you’re still friends with me.” She winked.
The laugh shot from Brie on a quick beat. She dropped her head back, sighing with the acceptance flowing through her.
“And,” Lori added, voice softening, “because a part of you is dying to be that wild girl your mother warned you to stay away from.”
Brie snorted. “You mean like you?” she quipped. Lori was so opposite of everything Brie was, but they’d somehow clicked almost immediately. Her mother’s disapproval had only solidified her determination to keep Lori in her life.
“Exactly like me.” The triumph in her voice matched her pleased expression. “I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done.”
“Which is why I admire you.” In so many ways. Lori took what she wanted from life and never showed an ounce of shame or regret.
Lori tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, the curls escaping almost immediately. Brie smiled at the habitual action. Her friend had a love-hate relationship with her hair that showed in the rotating styles and color.
“You did enjoy it, right?” Lori’s confident tone was underscored by a heavy shot of concerned doubt.
There was zero point in denying it. “Yes.” Heat bled over her cheeks at the memory of how much she’d enjoyed it. “I did.”
“Good.”
She waited for her to say more, maybe dig for details, but Lori remained silent. “That’s it?” she asked, brows raising. Lori hadn’t asked a single probing question, not even that night when she’d driven Brie home.
“Yup.” Lori nodded. “Unless there’s something you want to talk about.”
Right. She had no idea how to voice the jumble of want that continued to simmer within her. That night had exposed a passionate desire she couldn’t seem to contain, but she had to. Unless she was willing to let that wild side of herself free. And then what?
They ordered drinks from the waitress when she stopped by their table along with a basket of fries to snack on despite her appetite having been nonexistent all week.
She glanced out the window, thoughts drifting over her life. When had she ever done what she shouldn’t? There’d been no teenage rebellion or wild college years for her.
“I’m thirty years old,” she mumbled. That number rang like the dark bearer of spinsterhood. Most of her high school friends were already married, some with kids. A detail her mother reminded her of frequently.
That tight, restricted sensation born of expectation wrapped around her, pressing and contracting until she struggled to sit still. The urge to burst up and run away crawled over her skin in an all-too-familiar rush of bitterness.
Her throat ached with everything she was holding in. The unspoken anger and frustration. The self-inflicted position she couldn’t break free of. The obligations that’d ruled her life since the day she was born. The ones she both loved and loathed.
She ran her hand through her hair, letting the strands slide through her fingers. She caught the eye of a man wearing a dark jacket and jeans on the corner. Brown hair, strong jaw, handsome. Her slow smile spread in time with his. Could she go home with him? Fuck him until they were both sated and then leave? Probably. She’d had one-night stands before. But that had been the extent of her wild side—until last Friday.
The guy shot her a wink before merging with the crowd as he crossed the street and headed away from them. Did he have a wife? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?
She didn’t. So what was stopping her from returning to that den of indulgence?
Nothing—except her damn restrictive morals. And the secret little fear that it wouldn’t be the same without him there.
Could she really be that sexual free woman without him behind her, supporting her, reassuring her?
And there was the big stinking crux of her problem: She’d have to go back to find out. And if she did, she’d have to deal with the outcome—whatever it was—when she was still managing the fallout from her first visit.
She wasn’t prepared for that. Not yet. Maybe she never would be.
That admission pulled her skin tighter and muzzled that voice inside of her shouting for more. Tears prickled up her throat, but she swallowed them back. They were pointless. She’d be fine. No, she was fine. This was just a brief phase she’d get over soon. That was all.
It was just a phase.
Maybe if she repeated it enough, it’d become true.