The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(99)

“I told Thayden.”

“You told our lawyer?”

“And friend,” I add. “Friend with built-in confidentiality. Turns out, his marriage had a similarly unconventional start.”

“Unconventional? Is that what you’re calling it?” James rubs a hand over his jaw. “Good for Thayden. I’m still more interested in why you felt like you had to hide this from your family. She’s wearing Mom’s ring, Patrick. That means something.”

His eyes flash, and I feel my heart trip a little before picking up speed. “I know it does. Trust me, I know.” Leaning back in the booth, I drag a hand through my hair, which still needs a trim. “Y’all didn’t have the best impression of Lindy before—with the whole The Woman thing. I thought this might paint her in a worse light.”

“Might?” James shakes his head and keeps going before I can cut in and defend her. “Pat, she’s using you.”

“She isn’t. Or—I guess in some ways she is, but only in ways I’ve agreed to. I suggested this. It was my idea.” That really, REALLY doesn’t make this sound better. For a guy known for his way around words, they all seem to be on strike at the moment.

James looks like he’s going to argue, so I just keep talking. “I knew what I was getting into. I meant my wedding vows.”

“You didn’t make any vows,” James remind me. “Your courthouse wedding took four minutes and fifty-seven seconds.”

Leave it to James to time my wedding. “Well, I made vows in my head. Silent promises. And I intend to fulfill them.”

“What about her? What promises did Lindy make you?”

A sudden mental image of Lindy’s rules comes to mind. Especially rule number seven—the one about dissolving the marriage at a mutually agreed-upon time. My gut churns.

Is that still what she’s thinking?

If Lindy keeps Jo, will she keep me too? If she loses custody, will she let me go too?

Each question leaves a sour taste in my mouth and the sensation of a brick being shoved into my belly. I’m being dragged down into the kinds of worries and dark thoughts I’ve been hiding in my mental cave for days. James’s words have rolled away the stone blocking them in, and now they’re all swirling around me, weighing me down.

“What makes all this worse is Jo,” James continues. “That little girl worships you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

James leans forward, his gaze intense. “What happens to her when this all goes south? Did you think about that?”

“Of course I have.”

But maybe not enough. What’s seemed like a game at times with Lindy is suddenly all too real. Not like chess, where we’re moving pieces around the board, but something a little more deadly and with possible casualties outside of the two of us.

Groaning, James leans back, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I just unloaded on you.”

I want to tell him it’s okay, but I’m teetering on an edge here. Instead, I find myself shredding the paper napkin in my lap. When I realize Mari will probably be the one to have to sweep this up, I feel even worse and try to gather up all the pieces of the mess I made.

“Look, just make sure, okay? Don’t settle,” James says. “The timing is bad with all of this, so wait until after the hearing. Then talk to Lindy. Actual words, not flirting and wordplay. A serious conversation. Make sure it’s you she wants.”

In a rare show of brotherly affection, James slaps my shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Pat. You always land on your feet.”

Not this time, I think. This time, I’m not sure if I’ll land at all.

But I swallow down the rising panic and force a smile, because it’s what he expects. It’s what everyone ALWAYS expects from me. “Of course I do.”





Chapter Thirty-Two





Lindy





As expected, the loft is a huge hit with Jo.

“Can we stay forever?” she asks from the very top of her sliding ladder.

She’s been channeling her very best Belle, complete with singing “This Provincial Life” for the past five minutes. Which was cute and all, but five full minutes of it is a LOT of minutes.

I glance at Pat, grinning, expecting some kind of witty response from him. But he’s staring out the window, his hands in his pockets. I’m not even sure he heard Jo. Ever since I got back with Jo, he’s been strangely subdued. Very un-Pat-like.

When he doesn’t answer, I give Jo the best answer I can, given the circumstances. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

After tomorrow, I don’t add. We’re all thinking it. That’s probably what’s wrong with Pat. I know he’s grown incredibly attached to Jo. The man usually hides his worry behind layers of cheer and optimism, so maybe this is the version of Pat with all those layers peeled back. Ashlee said only in the most extreme circumstance would we come home tomorrow without Jo. But this certainly is a kind of final night, and it’s all I can do not to duct-tape Jo to my body. Pat’s probably feeling the same.

I link my fingers through his, and he blinks a few times, like he’s just waking up.

“Did you ask me something?” he says, his voice rough.