That fucking white ball was going to be the death of him.

“Tell me why we are doing this again?” Declan asked as he lost sight of his ball in the rough.

“We’re grown-ups,” Hunter said as he practised his swing. “Grown-ups play golf… apparently.”

“I still don’t get the point,” he grumbled as he moved off the tee to let Hunter take his shot. “None of us enjoy it.”

“But it does force us to spend several quality hours in each other’s company,” Mason said.

“Especially now that all of you each have a woman to occupy all your other time,” Jonathon said.

“Jealous?” Brooks commented.

“Not at all,” Jonathon replied with a smirk, “but at least playing golf once a week means I get to see you reprobates.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Brooks said as Hunter swung and connected with the ball sending it down the fairway.

Declan grunted. He had probably played more golf than any of these guys and yet he was still the worst at it. There had to be a psychological reason for that. Some sort of resistance stopping him because of all the times his father tried to force the game on him. He grunted again and rolled his shoulders. He didn’t want to think about it. He hated golf and he was quite happy to keep on hating it.

As Mason stepped up to take his turn, Declan moved over to stand next to Brooks.

“We need to talk about the other night,” he said.

“I know,” Brooks replied a frown on his face. “You want to tell me why you were yelling at my fiancé?”

“I wasn’t yelling at her,” Declan said with a huff, “and she was the one who started it. I overheard the shitty things she was saying about Brandi and I took exception to it. I like Harper, you know that, but she was being a bitch and I called her on it.”

Brooks searched Declan’s eyes and the exhaled roughly. “Harper wouldn’t tell me what happened. If it’s any consolation, I think she feels bad about the whole situation.”

“Brandi told me to just ignore it and not to say anything, but I couldn’t. I didn’t like the things Harper was saying about her. She’s nothing like what Harper was describing.”

“I know this is no excuse but I really think Heather did a number on her. Sometimes she acts a little irrationally and it all seems to track back to Heather. Does it matter now anyway? Will we ever see Brandi again?”

“She’s my partner in the wedding,” Mason said stepping up beside them.

Declan growled. “Yeah, about that—”

“No,” Hunter butted in. “You are not switching partners. My bride is barely keeping it together with all the wedding planning going on, you will not make her job harder.”

“You really like this girl, huh?” Mason said and Declan shrugged.

“You’ve all seen her, she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, but this is more,” Mason mused looking at him intensely and making Declan squirm just a little bit.

“You have feelings for her,” Brooks said with a sly smile.

Declan started to shake his head and then stopped himself. If he couldn’t be honest with his friends, then who could he be honest with.

“I do,” he said with a resigned sigh. “Not that anything can come of it.”

“Why the hell not?” Hunter barked.

Declan looked at the four men who stood around him. “You all know why not.”

“Your mother?” Brooks snorted. “You’re actually going to let your mother decide who you marry?”

Declan shrugged and picked up his golf bag, heading for his little white ball somewhere in the bush.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Brooks called after him.

Was he, though? He had known his whole life that his wife would not be his choice. He had watched his mother choose his brother’s bride and then watched as she chose his sister’s husband. His siblings hadn’t protested and seemed to be making the best of the situation. They might not be deliriously happy and in love, but they had a functioning family and were producing grandchildren. Surely it couldn’t be all bad. Neither his brother nor his sister had ever complained to him about the situation and so he had accepted the inevitable.

What was the alternative? He already skirted the line of acceptance in the family. He was the black sheep who had struck out on his own and had made a success of himself without the family connections. Yes, he’d used their money, but only as a loan that he had since paid back in full. He didn’t owe them for his success any more than he would have owed another bank who financed him. And it wasn’t as if they had just handed over the money. He’d had to go through a loan application just like any other businessman seeking finance. They hadn’t been easy on him and the interest rate had been high due to the fact that his plans had a ‘high risk factor.’ But he had proved them all wrong and had succeeded when they had expected him to fail.

How would his family react if he decided not to marry whoever it was that his mother had in mind? And in the grand scheme of things, did he really care? Sure, he held on to the fairytale that one day he might have a mother who loved him like mothers were supposed to and not just see him as part of the Mayfield family assets. But was there any reality in which that would actually happen? Would marrying the woman she chose for him suddenly turn her into the perfect mother? And if he really didn’t care about securing her approval of him, why the hell was he going along with her ridiculously old-fashioned plan?

He had stopped walking without realising it and when he came back to his senses, his friends had gathered around him.

“Are you in love with her?’ Mason asked.

“I—” Was he? “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe?”

“Then you owe it to yourself to find out,” Hunter said.

“But—” Could it be that easy?

“Where’s the harm in trying?” Brooks said. “Spend some time with her and really get to know her. Date her. If she’s not the one then you will soon find out and if she is, then…”

Then he might just have found the love of his life. Declan smiled and felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. He was going to date Brandi, for real, and see if these stirrings in his heart were the genuine deal and maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same.

Feeling a whole lot better about both golf and his relationship with Brandi, Declan jogged up the stairs to his home and unlocked the front door. He stepped over the threshold and listened, but he couldn’t hear a single noise that would indicate that Brandi was there. He walked through the house, anxiety growing with each empty room he encountered. They had made plans to meet back here and then decide what they were going to do for dinner. He was sure that was what they had decided before they went their separate ways that afternoon. So why wasn’t she there waiting for him?

He checked the bedroom and noticed her overnight bag was gone. Had she left? They still had one more night of their fantasy weekend and Declan wanted to spend it with her telling her his new plan. The plan where they actually dated for real. The plan where she really was his girlfriend and not just a decoy to fool his mother. The plan where he was really her significant other and not just some replacement for the man who had ditched her at the reunion.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted the real thing with her. He didn’t know how it happened but he had begun to fall for her. He’d always thought falling in love would be some big thunder-clap moment, not this slow, silky glide into a new reality. He had always expected it to be terrifying and that he would feel hemmed in and trapped. But that’s not what he felt at all. The more he thought about it, her, them, the more it felt right. It sat in his heart as a new thing, but not as something that was out of place. Weirdly, it felt like it had been there all along and he’d just needed the right woman to light it up and make it come alive. Brandi was that woman.

So where the fuck was she? There wasn’t even a god damned note to tell him what the hell was going on. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and realised he hadn’t tuned it back on from when he was playing golf. Apparently it was frowned upon to have your phone on while on the course. He powered it up with a curse and waited for it to start. Why did things always take so much longer when you were in a hurry? Finally it came to life in his hands and he noticed the missed call from Brandi and a text message. He opened the text message first.

B: Had a really shitty day at the party. Long story which ended with me being covered in vomit. Needed to go home, shower and decompress. Rain check for tonight?

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. She hadn’t bailed on him, not completely. His plans for the night were ruined, but that didn’t mean the big plan was. He walked into the library and over to the antique wet bar that his grandfather had loved and kept well-stocked. He poured himself a drink, whiskey neat, and then settled into one of the big leather chesterfields. He took a sip and savoured the smokey flavour of the well-aged liquor and then hit redial on his phone.

“Declan?” she answered and she didn’t sound anything like her normal, cheerful self.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said letting the endearment roll off his tongue like he said it all the time. “You don’t sound too good.”

In fact, she sounded awful and that did weird things to his insides. He wanted to be there for her, holding her, brushing his hand on her forehead and telling her it would be all right because he would look after her.

She huffed out a small laugh. “I feel like crap,” she replied softly.

“Wanna talk about it?”

She sighed. “Do you remember Courtney? From the reunion?”

He had a vague recollection of the three women who had been sitting with Brandi, but to be honest, he’d only had eyes for her.

“Sure,” he said.

“Well it was a party for her daughter. I was sure I told Peyton not to book a party with her. I didn’t want to do it and had I known I wouldn’t have gone.”

“Was she a bitch to you?” Declan said sympathetically.

Brandi groaned and he liked the sound of it in his ear, although it wasn’t the same groan that usually got him going. He liked the sound of it because it felt like they were sharing something intimate. This conversation was about how bad her day was and there was something special about it that he’d never experienced before. The only thing that would make it better was if he was there with her, her head on his lap as she complained about her shitty day.

“They all were and then her husband propositioned me in the bathroom.”

Declan’s gut clenched and he gripped the tumbler in his hand until his knuckles went white. “He what?”

“It’s okay, I kneed him in the balls—”

“That is not okay, Brandi,” he said roughly. “Tell me his name.”

“No. Declan, no. I dealt with it and it’s fine. Well, not fine, but it’s over and I’d rather just forget about it.”

“Does that happen much at these parties?”

“No,” she replied softly. “The fathers aren’t usually there, but I think this had more to do with the fact that he knew me. We dated once or twice in high school.”

Declan’s jaw ached from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “That doesn’t mean he has the right to touch you,” he ground out.

“I know and as I said, I dealt with it.”

Declan made himself relax. He took a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly. He loosened his fingers and rolled his head, stretching out the taut muscles in his neck. “Okay,” he said with a slow breath. “Tell me what else happened.”

“Then the birthday girl, Miranda, puked on me and ruined my costume. Courtney had the gall to blame me for it which was just a perfectly shitty end to an entirely shitty party.”

“So why are you there at your house instead of here where I can take care of you and make you feel better?”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied. “Because I didn’t think vomit covered mermaid costume and me in a bad mood would be such a great thing to expose you to, especially after the amazing weekend we’ve had together.”

“About that,” he said.

“Don’t say it,” she whispered. “I know what you’re going to say and I just… I can’t…”

“How do you know what I’m going to say?”

“You asked for the weekend and we had the weekend and it was amazing and wonderful and more than I ever expected. But it’s Sunday night and the weekend is over—”

“Brandi—”

“No, please, don’t say it. Let me just hold on to the fantasy a little longer. I’ll see you this week, we start rolling out your software in a couple of days. We can talk more then.”

Without saying goodbye she hung up and Declan was left looking at his phone wondering what the hell had just happened.

Brandi didn't know what it was that woke her only that she was awake and about to vomit over everything. Moving as quickly as she could without upsetting her stomach too much she raced to the bathroom and made it just in time to throw up in the toilet. Tears streamed down her face as everything she’d eaten the day before made a reappearance in vivid technicolor.

When her stomach was mercifully empty and her retching ceased, she slumped on the floor, leaning back against the bathroom wall, and swore before crying and just feeling sorry for herself in general. What a perfectly shitty way to wake up on a Monday morning.

Taking care not to jostle herself too much, she crawled out of the bathroom and climbed back into bed, reaching for her phone. It was barely six but she needed to let Peyton know that she wouldn't be in and then they would need to find someone to start the install for The Mayfield Group. What a pain in the arse.

She knew she shouldn't have done a party for Courtney. Not only had her little spawn of Satan given her a stomach bug, but her bastard of a husband had tried to put his sleazy hands all over her. Never again would she do a party for anyone in that clique.

Her stomach flopped over again and she held herself very still wondering if she was going to have to rush to the bathroom again. God. What she wouldn't do for some dry ginger ale right now. She made a pouty face and rolled over, bury her head in her pillow. Living on your own sucked balls when you were sick.

When her stomach settled again, she turned her head and brought her phone close so she could send a text to Peyton.

B: Sick. Feel like shit. Won't be in to work today. Need to reschedule Mayfield Group or get someone else to attend. Please send a care package…ginger ale and crackers.

With the text send she closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. It's what she used to do when she was a kid and got car sick. She'd force herself to sleep and then she wouldn't have to throw up. She hated puking. It was like the worst feeling in the world.

She must have dozed for a little while and then a text message on her phone woke her.

P: I'll deal with Mayfield Group. Care package enroute. Let me know if you need anything else.

Brandi’s relief that Peyton had everything well in hand was short lived as her stomach heaved. She shot out of bed and made it to the bathroom by the skin of her teeth. She didn't know how it was possible that she was still throwing up. Surely there was nothing left in her stomach. Unfortunately, there was evidence to the contrary. Carrot? When the hell had she eaten carrot?

Feeling miserable and severely sorry for herself, Brandi dragged her arse back to bed. She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come… or death. Death may very well be preferable to the way she currently felt.

Her doorbell woke her later and she dared to get out of bed and made it to the door without passing out or puking. Yay for the small wins. She opened the door and the young guy on the other side flinched visibly and took a step back. She must look about as good as she felt.

“Uh. I've got a package here for Brandi?”

“That's me,” she said, “hand it over.”

He passed her the basket - yeah, it was a gift basket, fucking Peyton - and she signed his little digital thingy before slamming the door in his face. She really couldn't people today.

Dragging her weak arse and her gift basket into the kitchen, she poured herself a lukewarm ginger ale and sipped. The liquid slipped down her abused throat and she closed her eyes to savour it. There was just nothing like ginger ale when you were feeling like crap.

With a sigh, she opened the packet of plain crackers and nibbled on one as she took her glass of ginger ale back to bed. Just as she was thinking that maybe the worst of it was over, her stomach cramped. Oh god no. If puking wasn't enough, now it was going to come out the other end as well.

With a whimper, she rushed to the toilet cursing Courtney and her offspring.

“Who the hell are you?”

The nerdy guy sitting behind Declan’s desk jumped and looked up, swallowing.

“Ah…”

“It’s a simple question. Who. The. Hell. Are. You?”

“Simon,” the guy replied in a rush, “from Sabre Management Systems. I’m here to do the install of your software.”

“Where is Brandi? She was supposed to do the install.”

“Sick,” he said.

“Sick?”

Simon nodded. “I got a call from Peyton this morning saying that Brandi was sick and could I come in and start the install.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me?” Declan growled. “It’s my fucking company.”

“Your assistant knew,” Simon said with a slight stutter. “She was the one who gave me access to your office and your computer.”

“Right,” Declan said and turned on his heel heading for the front office where his personal assistant was sitting. She hadn’t said a word to him as he’d breezed past earlier and he intended to find out why.

“Shelley?”

“Hmm?” she replied distractedly as she looked at something on her computer screen.

“Why is there an unknown person sitting at my desk and fucking with my computer?”

She looked up sharply at him. “What?”

He pointed to his office over his shoulder. “Why is there a strange guy in there—”

Her face relaxed and she smiled. “Oh, that’s Simon. He’s here from Sabre Management Systems.”

“And when were you going to tell me that he was here? Our software install was supposed to be done by Brandi. Did someone call with a change of plans?”

“Peyton called early this morning. Apparently Brandi is sick and couldn’t come in so Simon is starting the install and she will be in over the next few days to complete it and test it before we go live.”

Declan grit his teeth. Was Brandi really sick or was this her way of avoiding him? She hung up on him last night and he hadn’t really understood why. He was hoping to be able to speak with her today. The question that he wanted to ask her was burning a hole in his stomach.

“I’ll be up in my suite if you need me,” Declan said before striding out of the office and heading for the lift.

He waited until he got into his room before pulling out his phone and dialling Brandi. She didn’t pick up. Next he dialled Peyton.

“Peyton speaking.”

“Peyton it’s Declan.”

“Hello Declan, what can I do for you?”

“You can tell me why Simon is in my office fucking with my software and not Brandi. We had a deal. Brandi was supposed to do the install.”

“Brandi is sick,” Peyton said, “as in puking all over the place sick. She couldn’t make it today and rather than push back your install I figured Simon, who by the way is just as brilliant as Brandi and knows the software just as well, could start the process.”

“Fine,” he said, disconnecting the call.

He paced around the living space of the suite. If Brandi really was sick, why didn’t she call him? He dialled her number again and this time it connected.

“Hello?” she said and he could hear it in her voice. She really was sick, not just avoiding him.

“Brandi,” he breathed.

“Declan?”

“Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were sick?”

Ugh,” she groaned. “You do not want to see me like this.”

“Let me come over. I will bring chicken soup and—”

There was a gagging noise on the other end of the phone. “Brandi?”

“Please Declan,” she said, her voice strangled. “Don’t come over. I am throwing up amongst other things and I am highly contagious. Courtney’s little girl gave me her stomach bug when she threw up on me yesterday and I feel like death warmed over.”

“Do you need anything? I can send—”

“That’s really sweet,” she said, her voice softening, “but Peyton is sending me care packages when I need them. Seriously, you don’t want to catch this. Peyton said Simon has started your install? He’s good. I’ll be in sometime this week to go over everything, so don’t worry.”

“I’m more worried about you,” he said. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“I promise you that you do not want to see me like this. The last delivery guy couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I look like that little girl from the exorcist with the spinning head and projectile vomiting.”

“But you make it sound so attractive,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She chuckled. “It’s good to hear your voice even if I can’t see you. If I wasn’t so gross and so contagious then I wouldn’t want anything else except to snuggle into you while you held me.” Her voice was soft and it warmed his heart.

“I wish I could be there for you,” he replied. “I don’t care if you’re gross.”

“You do not want to get sick,” she said, “but thank you for saying that. Now get back to work so I can get back to sleep and I promise I’ll see you soon.”

He sighed. “Okay. I hope you’re feeling better.”

They disconnected and Declan looked down at his phone. What the hell was the matter with him? He had never felt this need to look after someone before but the thought of Brandi at home by herself and feeling so wretched did weird things to him. He wanted to be with her, holding her, wiping her brow or some other shit that you did to make people feel better. He hated that he was here and she was there, but he knew she was right when she banned him from coming to see her. If it was as contagious as she said, it wouldn’t do him any good to get sick as well.