“Brittany!”
Only wanting to sleep, Brittany covered her head with the pillow to drown out Bryson’s voice. After she’d broken her own heart and refused Trey, he’d left her, returning a short time later to feed her eggs, hash browns, bacon and biscuits. Ravenous, she’d gobbled every bit then rushed to the bathroom and thrown it right up.
Trey had been right there, holding her, soothing her, washing her face with a cold towel and then lifting her up, as if she couldn’t walk on her own, and carrying her back to the bedroom. His actions were tender and sweet and romantic, but the baby wasn’t through rejecting the food Brittany had eaten. Unable to make it back to the bathroom, she’d vomited in the bed, retching until her stomach was empty.
Not once complaining or leaving her side, Trey took her back to the bathroom and started the shower for her. While she’d been in the bathroom cleaning up, Trey had changed the bed and placed clean clothes on the small bathroom counter. She would’ve preferred pajamas but the white gypsy skirt and peasant blouse he’d chosen for her were comfortable, so she’d dressed, sans panties since he’d neglected to bring her any.
Brittany decided she wouldn’t marry him with all that stood between them but she hadn’t brought herself to push him away and she was more than happy when he made love to her again.
Exhausted by then, she’d fallen asleep. She didn’t even remember pushing her skirt down or pulling the sheets over herself. Trey must’ve performed those tasks.
Trey. God! Was she making the right decision by refusing to listen to what he wanted? Another try at their relationship and what she’d always dreamed of—becoming his wife. But he refused to let go of the subject of her rape. After all the strides she’d made, his determination would thrust her back into a nightmare. If she told, she risked his life, Bryson’s life as well as hers and her baby’s.
She had so many decisions to make. She couldn’t live in this city and feel safe as long as Karl lurked about. If she moved away, she’d want Trey and Bryson to know where she lived. She could always request they not give her address away to anyone. With Bryson believing Karl was his bestie, she’d have to name him specifically and then Trey would know, without a doubt, his cousin raped her.
“Brittany!”
She snatched the pillow from her head. The big hypocrite wouldn’t shut up. Fine. He demanded her company? She’d give him more than he expected.
“I’m coming!” she snarled. “You’re screaming loud enough to be heard two streets over.”
“Hurry up, damn it. I have to get to work.”
“Fine.” She stomped out the door and down the hall to the living room then halted when she saw Trey in black trousers and a white shirt and tie, talking to Lieutenant Thomas and another man who was dressed in a suit.
The spark in her keg fizzled. “What—?”
Bryson hurried over to her, a dress bag in his hand. He thrust it into her arms. “Go put this on so we can get a move on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t argue. I have to go on duty in a little while. Just go and change your clothes. Please?”
“Fine,” she huffed, trying to glimpse Trey again.
Maybe he’d give her an indication of what was going on, but Bryson blocked her view and physically turned her in the direction of the bathroom. He propelled her forward with a slight push.
Brittany slammed the bathroom door shut and opened the bag. A pretty white shawl dress was hidden inside. Wherever they were going, Trey looked so handsome. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she stared at her long gypsy skirt and loose peasant blouse. The most daring thing she’d worn in ages was her sleeveless tank top with baggy overalls, showing her arms but nothing else. She’d been determined to hide her body. This dress was so pretty she couldn’t resist putting it on. She also found a pair of high-heeled, white patent-leather pumps, dangling pearl earrings and a matching bracelet lying in the bottom of the bag. Before she put on her pumps, she ran to Trey’s bedroom and dug out a pair of the black thongs he’d bought her from Victoria’s Secret then hurriedly slipped them on. Afterward, she put on the jewelry and pumps. Looking in the mirror one last time, she finger-combed her hair.
She turned from side to side, the image reflecting back at her resembling the happy and carefree girl she’d once been. Trey sending her home had been a blessing in disguise. She’d talked to two women who’d listened. She didn’t have to concern herself with anyone’s safety or Trey going into a rage. For the first time she’d believed what Karl did wasn’t her fault. What Karl did to her was about power and control.
If only Trey would let it go.
If only he wanted to marry her for her and not because he’d gotten her pregnant.
“Fuck!” Pounding on the bathroom door punctuated Bryson’s angry baritone. “Come on, Brittany.”
Opening the door, she peeped out. Her brother glowered at her.
“Five more minutes.”
“Britt—”
She slammed the door in his face. She needed to do one last thing to complete her transformation. Bryson would continue to pitch a bitch at the passing time but she dug out her small make-up kit and went back to the bathroom anyway.
As predicted, Bryson yelled her name just as she finished her makeup and applied a last coat of lipstick.
“I’m coming,” she called, puckering her lips and smacking them together.
She opened the bathroom door and hurried to the living room. By now Karl and another man she’d never met were amongst the group.
Spotting her, Bryson grabbed her by the arm and ushered her toward Trey and Mitchell. “About damn time.”
She slapped his hand away. “Hypocrite,” she murmured under her breath. “I have a thing or two to tell you about sleeping with my best friend.”
Her brother stumbled and she turned on a sweet smile, gliding forward, unable to stop the burst of pleasure at the look in Trey’s eyes as his expression went from stunned appraisal to pure masculine appreciation. She’d been sixteen the last time she’d dressed herself up like this. Back then he used to give her a slight smile and a requisite, “you look pretty, baby girl,” and then he’d go on with what he’d been doing. Now though, the heat and satisfaction in his eyes made her happy she’d taken such care with her appearance.
Mitchell’s eyes bulged and he too stared at her. “Fuck me,” he muttered. “Now I understand the dilemma you faced, Trey.” He blinked at her. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Brittany smiled, determined not to let Karl’s presence affect her.
“Daaaammmmnnn, man.” The stranger was obviously awestruck, his mouth hanging open. “You Brittany? Bryson’s Brittany? Trey’s Brittany?”
“I’m Bryson’s sister.” She wasn’t Trey’s anything.
“You got a bangin’ woman, Trey.” The stranger smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Cedric, by the way. But you can call me Ced.” He kissed the back of her hand with a loud smack.
“And I can call you dead,” Trey snapped, his hands settling on the 9mm holstered at his side.
“Brittany has always been a little beauty,” Karl intoned in a sickly sweet voice.
She clenched her jaw, refusing to respond, and flushed beneath Mitchell’s drawn brows as he glanced between her and Karl.
Unaware of the little drama, Trey disengaged her hand from Cedric’s then bent over and kissed her lips. “You look lovely, baby girl.”
“Fuck, man. Lovely ain’t the word,” Cedric chortled. “Smokin’ hot. And them legs, man. Lawd have mercy! Make a man forget himself.”
Cedric’s teasing was good-natured and she was stronger but she still sidled closer to Trey. The attention Cedric was calling to her body, with Karl in the room, made her stomach clench. Fear began to seep into her at Karl’s critical stare and the disapproval in his features as he looked at her short dress. Her nails dug into Trey’s arm and she shifted her weight. Karl was baiting her. He wanted her to fall apart and point the finger at him. Wanted an excuse to provoke a violent confrontation. Although if she’d have known Karl would be there, she would’ve kept on her oversized blouse and long skirt, she stiffened her spine and loosened her grip on Trey.
Being the center of attention made her tension obvious. Mitchell lifted a brow at her and growing anger radiated from Trey. She bumped her hip against Trey.
“You look quite handsome.”
He scowled at her but she blinked up at him, all innocence. Mitchell cleared his throat and Trey sighed.
“And you’re gorgeous, baby girl.”
“Not so much a baby if she has yours in her,” Karl observed.
“Yo, can’t say I blame the man. If she was my woman, I’d a put one in her for real.” Cedric pumped his hips. “Bam, bam, bam. Make sure I hit it good so she never leave me.”
Brittany gritted her teeth at the crudity, tensing again and resting a hand on her belly.
“Either of you say one more damn thing and you get tossed out,” Trey swore. He indicated the window on the side of the room. “That window there should work fine. Starting with you, Cedric.”
Mitchell inserted himself between Trey and the other man. He kissed her cheek and embraced her. “You do look lovely.”
Sudden shyness sent heat rushing to her cheeks. “Thank you, Mitch. How’s Spenser?”
“We can talk after the ceremony,” Bryson said crossly. “Bill has to hit the road, I’m sure. He cleared his calendar for this.”
The gray-haired gentleman nodded. “It’s not every day I get to perform a wedding. Besides, it’s only”—he squinted and looked at his watch—“five eleven.”
“A wedding?” Brittany managed and narrowed her eyes at Bryson.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and found his shiny shoes very interesting. She swiveled her head to look at Trey. He shrugged and bit down on his lip, a sheepish expression on his face. Folding her arms and tapping her foot, she scowled up at Mitchell. The man coughed, turned beet red and pivoted on his heel. She glowered at the three of them, everything suddenly making perfect sense. But she wasn’t going to let Trey—or Bryson—strong-arm her into a marriage for the sake of her unborn baby.
“I’m not marrying Trey.”
Trey, Bryson and Mitchell pretended they didn’t hear.
“I’m Judge Bill Waynesberry,” the gray-haired gentleman began with kindness. A tall, robust man, he had sideburns that traveled down his face, making him look like a throwback to another century. “Has Trey fumbled already and you’re having second thoughts, my dear?”
“Second thoughts? I haven’t had any thoughts, Your Honor. No one informed me I was getting married today.”
A bushy gray eyebrow rose. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she hissed, “that’s so.”
Folding his arms, the judge stared at Bryson. No one intimidated Bryson; he returned the older man’s regard without flinching.
“Brittany must have found the condoms you have hidden all over the house.” Karl laughed, cool and mocking. “Maybe even a used one or two.”
“Who the fuck invited you anyway?” Trey snarled, balling his hands at his side. “I certainly didn’t.”
“I told him and Cedric to come.” Bryson frowned. “He’s your cousin, man. Our friend. I thought you’d want him here.”
Trey transferred his cold gaze from Karl to Bryson. “Tell him to keep his damn mouth shut. If he makes one more fucking comment he shouldn’t make around Brittany, the beat down I gave him the last time will seem like a little spanking. This time, I swear he’ll be leaving in a fucking body bag.”
“Are you threatening me, Sergeant?”
“No, Reverend, I’m not. I’m merely stating the facts and making sure you understand the detriment you’re in if you continue to goad Brittany. Every fucking time you see her, you have a stupid-ass comment. You either stop on your own, today, or I’ll stop you myself.”
Judge Waynesberry cleared his throat. “Is there a ceremony taking place or not?”
“No,” Brittany huffed.
“Yes,” Trey and Bryson chorused, drowning out her voice.
“I told you bozos she wouldn’t agree to this,” Mitchell murmured, glowering at Karl.
Vibes of malice and hatred flowed between the two men. Karl’s lips kicked up in a half-smile, his brows raising. His look taunted and dared.
“She has no choice,” Bryson inserted with finality, either ignoring or not noticing the thick atmosphere. “Trey is going to marry her or live as a eunuch for the rest of his life.”
“Oh you’re really a smart fuck, phrasing it like that,” Trey argued. “You make it sound as if I don’t want to marry Brittany. That you have a fucking gun pointed to my head.”
Bryson’s hand went to his holstered 9mm. “The idea has merit.”
“Boys, boys!” the judge inserted. “Enough! If the young lady doesn’t want to marry, I’m not performing the ceremony.” He stared down at her. “Am I correct, my dear? You don’t wish to marry Sergeant Wilson?”
Marrying Trey would be a dream come true, if only he were marrying her for the right reasons. Despite Bryson’s autocracy Trey was in collusion with him. Meanwhile Brittany wanted Trey to marry her for her, not because she was having his baby.
She loved him and to her, love represented hope, a blossoming for all things good and right. There was so much ugliness between them because of her detrimental secret. Family was a link to the past and a bridge to the future. Entering into a marriage wasn’t to be taken with a grain of salt. In times of trouble most families banded together. That was the way in Trey’s family.
Brittany wanted the same. She didn’t want to be a responsibility, an obligation. She wanted the love, the hope, the future and the loyalty.
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. Her vision blurred and she saw the satisfaction in Karl’s eyes. Turning, she sat in the nearest chair.
Trey walked over to her and kneeled on one knee in front of her. He took her hand. For a moment she thought he would ask her to marry him, as if he cherished her, instead of ordering her to do it as if she were a child.
“I want my baby to have my name.”
“Then be there at the hospital when it is time to file for the birth certificate to sign your name.”
“You have every right to hate me—”
“I don’t hate you. We had this conversation earlier. I love you.”
“Then marry me.”
If only she could. “I-I can’t,” she whispered. “If Momma hadn’t put me out, I wouldn’t even be here. I would’ve called you in a few days to tell you about the baby and I’m sure you would’ve gone about your affairs until it was time for me to deliver.”
He tipped her chin to his. “You’ll be my wife. I’ll be able to provide proper medical insurance for you and the baby.”
She sniffled. “What an excellent reason to marry. For medical insurance, not because you’re in love with me too.”
“You know I don’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Thank you for making the offer.” With each word her heart splintered. By the time she finished, it would be nothing but tiny pieces. Resolute, she forged on. “I already know how you feel about permanent relationships. In the end, you’d be resentful of me and the baby and we’d be miserable.” She adjusted his tie, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I won’t be in your way too long. I still intend to find a place of my own, so you and Bryson can live like the bachelors you were meant to be. I’m sorry. I can’t marry you.”