You don’t know what’s between Nate and I—”
“Yeah, and I don’t want to know, except that, with Dad gone, I’m the one looking out for you.”
She let out a harsh breath. “I don’t need anyone looking out for me. Especially someone who can’t understand the choices I’m making in my life.”
She mumbled under her breath, walking away.
“Did you just call me a ‘stupid jerk’?”
She had. Heat splashed her cheeks, but, unwilling to back down, she spun on him. “If the shoe fits…”
Only then the absurdity of her muttered insult hit them both. The tension and starch seemed to slip from her brother’s shoulders and he leaned back into the wall behind him. Pressing the heels of his palms into his brows, he let out a heavy breath. “I know how you feel, Payton. About Dad. About trying to be perfect for so long. It wears on you and all that pressure makes you resentful. Only you know you can’t get angry at him. The weak heart wasn’t something he could help. So you keep trying to do the right thing. Take care of him. Be good. Try harder…Except, after all that effort, he goes and dies anyway. It was a raw deal. I know that.”
Tears bit at the backs of her eyes as her bully-big-brother voiced what her heart had been sobbing for a year. “It’s like everything I did, all the right choices I made were for nothing.”
“So now you want to be bad for a while? Is that what this is with Nate? With the apartment? Clint? Every major decision you’ve made in the last year has been the sort of thing Dad would have hated. Are you trying to get even with him? Show him what happens when he doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain and live?”
Her throat was so dry, she didn’t think she could speak. She shook her head, blinking away the welling tears. “No. It’s about being true to myself. Living my own life. Mine. Not his. The job I want. The apartment I can afford.” The man I love.
Brandt scanned her apartment, as though doubting her word. Then pushed off the wall and stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. “You know, on the way over to Mom’s, Clint and I were talking about when you two started dating. Apparently he’d asked you what you wanted out of a relationship.”
Her breath pulled in with a slow ache. She knew where this was going.
“You said, ‘Family and security, trust and partnership.’ I think he figured out he wanted to marry you that night.”
She’d known it, too. Looked at Clint and thought he was exactly the right sort of man to make a life with. And yet every time he’d brought up marriage, she’d shied away.
As if following her thoughts, Brandt offered, “Even if Clint wasn’t the one. You gave him an honest answer, didn’t you? You still want those things?”
When she didn’t answer, Brandt’s scowl deepened and the understanding man who might have been her friend a moment ago transformed back into the brother frustrated with the mess his little sister was making of her life. “What does Nate Evans think about those wants? I’m assuming he knows. Or did this ‘honest life’ you’re so keen on living not include being honest with him?”
“It’s not like that with Nate. Neither one of us is interested in marriage or forever right now.”
Brandt let out a short laugh. “Right. Who are you lying to now, Payton?”
Her mouth burst open in denial, but already he’d gone on. “Have you been honest with that guy for one minute since you started whatever the hell it is you’re doing together? Does he have any idea how long you’ve been pining for him? I’d be willing to bet a sizable chunk of Liss shares that he doesn’t. Just like I’d bet he doesn’t know how showing up in the papers has affected your work environment—the flak you take for it.”
“Things have been better at work lately—”
“I’m glad to hear it, but come on, Payton, the last time we talked about this you were hell-bent on getting out of the media spotlight. Swearing up and down that wedding you and Evans were caught at would be the last high-profile event. You were desperate. And yet, I think I’ve seen your name or face in the news more times over the last month than I have in the last year.”
“It’s different now.”
“Why?” he challenged. “Because you’re in love?”
“Things are good with Nate. We both knew what we were getting into with this relationship and we’re both fine with it.”
He took a deep breath and shoved off the wall. Stopping at the door, he turned to her. “Payton, if you have to lie to me, that’s one thing. You want to lie to Nate Evans?” He touched the single bump at the bridge of his nose. “Be my guest. Just do me a favor and don’t lie to yourself.”
The door swung closed with a thud. The lock tumbled and then even the muffled fall of his steps left her. Alone, she faced the uneasy revelation that perhaps Brandt had seen her more clearly than she’d ever given him credit for.
Chapter Eighteen
SOMETHING was wrong with Payton.
Nate stood by the exit watching the dinner crowd. The up-scale Mexican restaurant was one of his favorites and Payton had mentioned it as one of hers as well, but tonight she’d barely had a bite of her food and her glass of wine sat all but untouched on the table.
He’d gone to her place straight from O’Hare, ready to pick up where they’d left off almost a week before. The trip had been a success and he was in the mood for a celebration. But even before they’d made it to the car he’d sensed something off. They’d talked easily enough, laughed and caught up, but every few minutes her attention would drift, leaving him to wonder where she’d gone.
By the time he closed out the bill his frustration had met its limit and he was ready for answers.
Hitting the sidewalk, Payton looked back at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just—” Breaking off with a shake of her head, she stared down the street.
A quiet alarm began to sound in the back of his mind. Obviously something happened while he’d been gone, and whatever it was had her anxious and refusing to meet his eyes. He didn’t want to think it, but if he didn’t know her better he’d say her behavior smacked of guilt. “What’s going on?”
Hugging her arms around her waist, she shivered. “Can we walk a minute?”
He tucked her under his arm, guiding her around the Friday-night pedestrian traffic. As he slowed his stride to match hers his mind ran through the little he knew. She’d been fine when he spoke to her the other night. Laughing and easy. No halting exchanges or strained silence. But that had been three days ago and he hadn’t spoken to her since. He should have called again, checked in, but he’d gotten busy, caught up in the workings of a new deal—And he’d wanted the space. The distance.
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