The Pact (Winslow Brothers #2)(74)

I have an apartment in Nolita to stage, and I’ll be damned if I give Tara even an extra five minutes of time to start making changes on my design plans. The woman is a little too into farmhouse chic, and the three-bedroom, three-million-dollar loft EllisGrey has under contract is the opposite of shiplap and barn doors.

Not that there’s anything wrong with a little Chip and JoJo influences. I’ve seen Fixer Upper, and I adore everything the Magnolia brand stands for, but this loft is not the place for it. It needs a minimalist design with sleek, sophisticated touches.

Once I make it onto the subway, I find an open seat across from a college-aged guy with headphones on and a book in his lap, and I proceed to take my cell phone out of my purse and see what I’ve missed.

A few work emails.

And a boatload of texts inside my group chat with Winnie and Sophie.

Sophie: I am freaking out. FREAKING OUT. How is my wedding less than two weeks away?! I haven’t even decided how I’m going to wear my hair or what shoes I’m going to wear with my dress or whether or not the caterers should serve shrimp cocktail at cocktail hour or…basically a million other things I’ve yet to figure out.

Winnie: But you have your dress. Which is downright gorgeous. And you have everything else figured out with the caterer. It’s all good in the wedding hood, my soon-to-be sister-in-law. You have no reason to worry.

Sophie: You swear it’s going to be fine?

Winnie: Promise.

Sophie: Can you also promise that my soon-to-be-husband isn’t going to do anything crazy like plan a flash mob in the middle of our reception or give me a lap dance while he’s taking off my garter?

Winnie: Uh…

Sophie: Winnie!

A laugh jumps from my lungs as I read their exchange. Pretty sure Sophie is asking Winnie for a promise that she cannot guarantee.

Winnie: What? You know I have no control over what my crazy brother does. Jude is nuts. I’m just thankful it’s him and not Ty that’s getting married. Truthfully, the only wedding I looked forward to was Flynn’s because he’s so damn laid-back, but he just up and married Daisy without inviting any of us.

Winnie: P.S. I love you, Daisy! And while I was mad at you both when I first found out, I’m only thankful that I have you as my sister-in-law now.

Instantly, I go from laughing to staring down at the phone with a knot in my chest. I’m starting to feel like such a fraud for lying to Winnie, for lying to everyone about the truth of Flynn’s and my marriage.

A marriage that will come to an end soon.

My interview is the morning of Jude and Sophie’s wedding. Which means, if all goes well, not too long before their actual wedding, Flynn and I will no longer need to keep up the fake-marriage pretenses.

And even though his family has accepted me with open arms and started to feel like my own family—feel like the family I’ve always wished I’d had—I’ll have to move back to LA and go back to my life there, and Flynn will go back to living his life here.

A life that doesn’t include me.





Flynn

I flip two steaks on the skillet and turn to grab some seasoning, but when I spot movement out of the corner of my eye, I turn to find Daisy setting her purse and keys on the counter. Normally, she announces her arrival in some adorable way like “Honey, I’m home!” or “Flynn, I’m starving! Feed me!”

But tonight, she came in like a fucking ninja.

“Hey, babe,” I greet, but it’s like she doesn’t even hear me.

Daisy’s face is devoid of her normally bubbly expression, and her eyes are distant, as if she’s too busy inside her own head to even notice her surroundings.

“Babe,” I repeat, and she looks up to meet my eyes.

“Hi,” she responds, but her voice is quiet, timid even.

“You okay?”

She nods, but that’s all she gives me. No rambling explanation or adorable hand movements punctuating her words. Just…a nod.

“How did your appointment go?” I ask, and when she furrows her brow in confusion, I expand. “Your physical…?”

“Oh,” she acknowledges, and her mouth forms a little “O.” “It was fine.”

I might not be the type of man who has a track record of long-term relationships with women, but I have a sister and a mother and an aunt who have shown me that “It’s fine” never means that.

Fine means the opposite.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep.” She nods again. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

“Would a steak help make the day not feel so long?” I grin and nod toward the skillet.

“I’d love to say yes to that, but…” She pauses, cringes, and explains, “I’m not hungry, and I still need to finish up some staging plans for a property by tomorrow.”

Daisy not hungry? Not talkative? And choosing work over her favorite Friday night Netflix binges that she always forces me to join in on?

I can’t shake the sense that she’s shutting me out. Like, she has shit on her mind that she doesn’t want to talk to me about. It’s the opposite of what I’m used to with her. Sure, sometimes it takes her a bit to open up to me, a sort of rambling in circles before she reaches her end destination, but she always gets there in the end.