It seemed I couldn't quite get away from family. Brandon and I went back to New York after enjoying the delicious spread that Bubbe laid out Friday night, despite her many attempts to convince us to stay the night. When she promised blintzes, I could tell that Brandon was tempted.
Unfortunately, I had none of my study materials with me, and on top of that, Janette had already cornered me and Brandon into brunch the next day. She and I had traded a few phone-calls over the week, and she had been insistent on getting more quality time with me so I could meet my half-siblings. It was hard to say no to that.
"Your mom's in town?" Dad had asked, trying and failing to mask his obvious curiosity when we had mentioned it on the way back out to the car after dinner.
"With her husband and kids," I had said in a tone that I hoped told him to leave it.
Dad definitely didn't need to fall down the Janette Chambers black hole again. He was already vulnerable enough. Behind us, Bubbe had rubbed her forehead and muttered something about a "shiksa hussy." She couldn't stand my mother, having been forced to fill her role in Dad's and my lives for the last twenty-six years. It probably didn't help that she was being shirked for a brunch date with Janette.
~
"You really don't have to come," I said again as David pulled the car up in front of the Stillwater Hotel just before eleven. "It's not exactly private."
We were having brunch in the hotel restaurant, a swanky spot that catered to wealthy businessmen and local politicians. We would be on full display to many of the same people who, if they hadn't been present at last weekend's benefit, would have almost certainly heard about the drama.
Brandon picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles, nipping at the last one in a way that made my skin prickle with something much more than nerves. Although he'd woken me up that morning with attention that had should have sated any desire I felt, I was still humming for more.
"Our cover's blown now, Red," he said with a lopsided smile. "Silver lining is, we don't have to hide anymore." He cupped my face, running a thumb over the contours of my lips. "Come on. Let me meet the rest of your family. I promise they'll like me."
I smiled into his kiss, trying and failing to curb the mounting desire his lips and tongue caused. Just as I was starting to curl my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, he pulled away with a satisfied, cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. He watched with obvious satisfaction as I struggled to fix my hair and smooth my dress.
"Easy for you," I muttered as we stepped out of the car. "It would take a tornado to make you look like less than a million dollars. One kiss and I look like a windswept tomato."
Brandon laughed and glanced down at his outfit. He wore a perfectly pressed, blue and white gingham shirt and navy pants, paired with a cognac-colored belt and matching shoes. His wavy blond hair was combed back, and his bright blue eyes matched the color of the sky. He looked picture perfect for a Saturday brunch. I looked reasonably nice in my gray sundress and brown sandals, but I couldn't light a candle to him.
He wrapped a long arm around my waist and pulled me close for another kiss. "I'm nothing compared to you, Red."
We were led to a table in the middle of the crowded restaurant where Janette, Maurice, and two children sat. Of course Janette had requested the most visible spot in the restaurant. She was always one who basked in the attention of others.
"Brandon!" she cried as she hopped out of her seat.
Tasteful as ever, she wore a light floral skirt and green silk shirt that brought out the color of her––our––eyes, her light brown hair tied at the nape of her neck. Pearl-and-diamond earrings swung from her ears, matching the necklace she wore and the sparkling tennis bracelet at her wrist. Maurice wore tailored slacks and a button-down white shirt, and the children, from what I could see, both wore equally prim outfits. They were the perfect picture of an upper-class French family.
Janette leaned in to accept a kiss on the cheek from Brandon, who then reached across the table to shake Maurice's hand before sitting down. I accepted French-style, double-cheek kisses from both Janette and Maurice with some surprise; this was the friendliest Maurice had ever been to me. The two children at the table, a boy and girl who weren't older than ten, watched all of us.
"So good of you both to join us," Janette said as we all took our seats. "Mes petites puces, ça c'est votre sœur," she introduced me to the children. "Skylar, this is Annabelle and Christoph."
Despite the endearments their mother used to address them, neither child responded to her, choosing instead to watch me with open curiosity.
"You may have to brush up on your French a bit, darling," Janette said to me. "They're still learning English."
"My English is very good, Maman," a small voice with a very thick Parisian accent piped up from across the table. The older child, the girl, looked pointedly at her mother with clear green eyes she'd inherited from Janette, just like me. "And Christoph can understand everything, even if he still cannot say very much."
Beside her, the little boy, whose fringe of brown hair topped a pair of wide brown eyes, nodded broadly as he sipped from a plastic cup with a straw.
Janette cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink, which looked like a mimosa. "They go to a very good school."
A waiter came by to take our orders and deliver drinks. I hoped that another round of mimosas and food would calm everyone's nerves.
"So, what are you doing in town?" Brandon asked Maurice after the waiter had left. "Boston seems a little outside of your scope at BNP."
He had taken my hand again under the table and held it securely on his lap.
"Maurice is here to help the new BNP Boston office negotiate an expansion. They are trying to land Rick Avery's portfolio," Janette said before Maurice could respond. She looked coquettishly at Brandon. "Of course, I'm sure he wouldn't mind a meeting with the CEO of Sterling Ventures as well."
"Tais-toi, Janette," Maurice cut her off sharply. "Pay no mind to my wife," he said more jocularly to Brandon with an extremely Gallic roll of his eyes. "She often speaks without thinking."
His French pretensions aside, I was starting to get a good handle on Maurice. Despite his glamor and cool, nonplussed appearance, he was just like so many other chauvinist men I'd encountered in the finance sector who treated women like accessories. He had barely spoken to me, his actual stepdaughter, at all since arriving in Boston, and only then to inquire about Brandon.
Beside him, Janette just took another long sip from her drink. For the first time in a long time, I felt sorry for her.
"Are you here long?" I asked Maurice, mostly to deflect the criticism from my mother.
Maurice looked at me as if he had just noticed I was sitting at the table, and gave another supremely French shrug. "It depends. These things take time, I cannot say for sure." He looked back at Brandon with a smile. "Enough to enjoy everything this wonderful city has to offer."
"At least a few more weeks," Janette added eagerly. "We will probably go down to New York for a spell so the children can meet my family, of course, but mostly we want to enjoy Boston."
I ground my teeth. Aside from their obvious pandering to Brandon, this was a sore subject. I was permanently iced out from the Chambers clan; my conception out of wedlock, when Janette and my father were only seventeen, nearly cost her membership in that family to begin with. The only part of that life I had ever seen was the small trust fund that Janette had set up––mostly, I think, to avoid any problems with child support payments and to keep my family quiet about me: the dirty little secret.
"We were just in New York yesterday," Brandon volunteered with a worried glance my way. My discomfort must have been written all over my face. "Down visiting Skylar's dad. Her grandmother made this amazing dinner for us."
Janette looked up, her cup poised in midair. "Oh?" she asked with a pretense of casualness that failed miserably. "And how is Danny?"
I clenched the stem of my champagne glass tighter than necessary. "He's fine."
Janette blinked, her big green eyes that mirrored mine blank and innocent. "And is Sarah still cooking those enormous meals? She always did make enough to feed an army. I swear, whenever I stayed in that house, I always gained at least ten pounds."
She chortled at Maurice, who only watched with his typically bored expression. I just sipped my mimosa. I wasn't really interested in hearing her jokes about the family she'd toyed with over and over again. Brandon cleared his throat, pulling the table's attention.
"Do you have any plans other than staying in the city?" he asked. "Poor Annabelle and Christoph can't find the inside of a hotel room that interesting."
The kids' faces perked noticeably when he mentioned their names; Annabelle already looked half in love with Brandon, and Christoph was staring at him like he was a superhero.
Brandon flashed them a toothy grin, and they both collapsed in giggles. Maurice shot a stern look at his children, who immediately straightened up and quieted down. They were clearly well trained; I couldn't help but wonder by what means.
"The children have a nanny to keep them occupied during the day," Janette clarified with a short smile. "But we were considering taking some excursions up the coast. Maine, perhaps. Kennebunkport––isn't that where the Bushes have a place? Brandon, have you ever been there?"
Brandon nodded. "I have, although only once or twice. When I go to the coast, I usually spend my time at the Cape. I have a house there, actually."
Janette's eyes gleamed. "Oh, Cape Cod! Yes, we were considering that as well. It would also be terrific fun to show the children where their ancestors came from." She winked at me as she continued: "My father's family emigrated on the Mayflower, you see. My mother's were mostly Dutch, of course––cousins of the Stuyvesants, actually, but my father's people actually came originally from Massachusetts."
She spread her slender hands over the table and peered around the room proudly, as if the crowded space of the hotel represented the cold rock where the pilgrims originally landed. Beside her, Maurice continued to looked bored, and both Annabelle and Christoph were frowning in confusion.
"Well, you're welcome to come for a visit," Brandon offered cordially as he leaned back to make room for the server, who had just arrived with another round of drinks.
I jerked my head at him. What? He caught my look and winked.
"I may not have it much longer, so we might as well put it to good use," he continued before taking a sip of his coffee. "It would be a good time for Skylar and the kids to get to know each other."
"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Janette exclaimed. "Children, wouldn't that just be wonderful!"
She leaned over to touch Annabelle's shoulder; the girl just looked at the hand, but then looked back at Brandon, eyes shining.
"Oh please, Papa," she addressed Maurice almost formally. "May we go?"
Christoph, who had yet to say anything, also turned to his father with pleading eyes.
Maurice, for his part, no longer looked bored, but extremely interested as he surveyed Brandon. His sharp eyes flickered back and forth between us, as if gauging our connection. Then he gave another Gallic shrug, and sat back in his chair.
"If it is not too much of an imposition," he said as he picked up his espresso cup.
The kids practically jumped out of their seats in excitement. Janette continued to jabber about the possibilities for the trip, while Maurice and I stared at each other with mirrored looks of shock. Somehow, before our eggs had even arrived, my estranged mother, her family, my married boyfriend and I were all scheduled to go to Cape Cod for the upcoming Fourth-of-July weekend.
~
"Are you okay?" Brandon asked later when we were on our way back to the North End.
I had insisted on going back to my apartment. I had too much to do, and I wasn't interested in spending the day in the icy penthouse. Surprisingly, Brandon didn't fight me on it, and actually asked if he could come with me. It seemed he really did hate that apartment as much as he said. Or, I also suspected, he could feel the fissures the last few days had caused and was trying to compensate.
Beside him, I shrugged while I watched Boston passing through the tinted window. "Does it matter now?"
Brandon reached for my hand. "I should have asked first. I'm sorry."
I sighed, but let him toy with my fingers. "It's fine, I guess. It will be nice to get to know Annabelle and Christoph. Maybe I can convince Janette and Maurice to let me take them somewhere, just them and me. They seem to be on a pretty tight leash."
Brandon nodded. "I bet they'd like that."
"I still can't believe you invited them over to your house," I teased. "My weirdo mother and her robot husband."
"I just want to help," Brandon said. He still held my hand as he massaged his thumbs around the bones. "They're your family, and they want to know you." His blue eyes were wide. "Not everyone is as lucky as you, Red."
I watched him for a moment, letting his words sink in. Brandon gleamed so brightly among most people, it was easy to forget the dark circumstances he came from. His mother, who had died of a drug overdose when he was just a teenager, had neglected him so much that he had been in and out of group homes for most of his childhood. His father, an abusive man, had been in jail multiple times and was currently serving a twenty-year sentence. The only real family that Brandon had were the Petersens, and despite Susan's attempts to be close, Ray wasn't exactly a big ball of warmth.
"You're right," I said. "It's a nice idea. It will be fun."
"We'll make a long weekend of it," Brandon said. "You can bring your stuff and study, and I wouldn't mind you seeing the place again before I have to sell it."
The reminder of the divorce proceedings settled a pit again in my stomach.
"So Miranda...she's still going ahead with everything as planned?" I asked.
A part of me hoped that maybe this sudden invitation, and Brandon's recent willingness to accompany me openly everywhere, was a sign that things had improved. Maybe Miranda had simply accepted that he was moving on. Maybe she was ready to move on too.
But Brandon heaved a big sigh and pulled me into his side. "I don't really want to talk about it right now," he admitted before pressing a kiss into the top of my head. "She's...making things difficult again. I'm not sure exactly to what extent."
My heart sank. I knew it was too good to be true. I curled my fingers around the crisp cotton of his shirt and inhaled his fresh, warm scent.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm making things more difficult for you."
He pulled back so he could look directly at me. His blue eyes were fathomless, even in the dimmed lighting in the car. My clenched stomach eased a little.
"Don't be," he said. "I'm not."
As he pressed a soft kiss to my lips, I conceded. I could be stressed. I could be fearful. But I couldn't be sorry now. Not for us. Not ever.
~