Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(85)

She smacked him on the shoulder. “Tell me the real reason, you ass.”

Rake was still, breathing her in and out, before he sighed. Pulling back to look at her, he searched her face.

“My nan’s name is Robyn,” he said at last, dragging the backs of his fingers down Lizzie’s cheek. “She’s a lovely woman. Beautiful, warm, vivacious … a wonderful person to be around. Same with my grandpa. They were one of those couples that always seemed young and alive, regardless of how old they actually were.” The corners of Rake’s mouth curved in a smile at some private memory.

“And my grandpa adored Nan. He was always kissing her cheeks or holding her hands, and she was always making him laugh, giving him these bold, bright smiles. They were just…” He trailed off, wrapping a lock of Lizzie’s hair around his finger as he thought.

“He always called her his Little Bird. ‘Dance with me, Bird.’ ‘What’s for dinner, sweet Bird?’ ‘Come have a perch, Birdy,’ and he’d pat his knee and she’d walk over and sit on his lap, draping her arms around him, and they’d laugh and giggle like teenagers. Even being a kid, it was impossible to witness two people so enamored and not realize how special it was.”

He stared at Lizzie for a long moment, his brows furrowed, as if he was trying to understand something, solve a puzzle by mapping the freckles on her face. “My grandpa died a while back.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie said automatically. And she was. She wanted to know every person who shaped Rake. Collect every memory people had of him from any stage of his life.

“Don’t be,” Rake said, watching as he trailed his hands up and down Lizzie’s arms like he couldn’t stop touching her. “He lived a long, happy life. It was hard to even be sad at the funeral because it was filled with so much love and happy memories. But what I’m trying to say is ‘Birdy’ wasn’t something I’d heard in years. It’s not something I ever said.”

He stopped his curious fingers, looking fully at Lizzie, his eyes piercing in their intensity. “But when I saw you at that bar, when you smiled at me like that, the nickname slipped out. I didn’t even realize I’d said it until you laughed. Something about you…” A gentle blush covered his cheeks as he looked away and cleared his throat. “That and your nose looks like a beak at some angles.”

Lizzie was silent for a moment, absorbing his words, before she burst into laughter at his cheeky ending. She felt so much all at once, it was impossible to contain everything inside her, and it didn’t take long for her giggles to make the whole bed shake. Rake joined her, both laughing wildly as they lay tangled in the sheets.

When their cackling subsided and sleep beckoned, Lizzie decided to be brave.

She decided to tear off a corner of her heart, carefully fold it into a tiny paper airplane, and gently toss it at him, letting it glide to a stop at his feet. He could either pick it up or step on it, and she was scared of either option.

“Rake,” she whispered, running her fingers along his arm, his palm splayed across her belly, cradling the gentle swell of her little bump.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think…” She cleared her throat, her voice barely audible, as she pressed her hand over his. “When we go home, things will be … different?”

Rake was quiet for a moment before answering. “I hope they are.”





Chapter 41




LIZZIE and Rake woke up early the next morning with every intention of getting on the road as soon as possible. But Mary knocked gently on their door shortly after, telling them that Ryan had run out to get bagels. And Lizzie had a really hard time saying no to any circle-shaped carbs.

Even though they’d been at Ryan and Mary’s for less than twelve hours, Lizzie had still managed to empty her suitcase like a small tornado had whipped through the guest room, and by the time they were packed and upstairs, Ryan was back, a delicious spread of bagels and cream cheese was sitting next to steaming mugs of coffee.

They sat around the table, talking and laughing as morning sun filtered in through the white curtains, casting a soft haze over the conversation.

Ryan was in the middle of suggesting the four of them go to a Flyers hockey game sometime in the winter when the doorbell rang. Mary went to answer it, and a choked noise of surprise left her throat.

“Claire. Hi. What are you doing here?”

A cold dread flooded through Lizzie’s system.

“Good morning, Mary. Is Elizabeth here? I need to speak with her.”

“Uh, um…”

Without giving herself enough time to think better of it and run and hide, Lizzie stood, moving toward the door. Rake grabbed her hand, and she looked at him.

“It’s okay,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go. “She and I are long overdue for a conversation.” He looked wary, but let her go.

“Hi, Mom,” Lizzie said, rounding the corner to the front door.

Claire nodded, giving her a tense smile. “Mary,” she said, turning to her, “may we use your sitting room?”

Mary looked uncomfortable, but she nodded, swooping her arm toward the room off the entrance hallway.

“I’ll … Let me know if you need anything,” Mary said, before turning and leaving.