“Well, if you ask me, good riddance,” Blade mumbles.
“No one asked you,” Canyon interjects before I can speak. “And you wonder why you’re alone,” Canyon continues, rubbing in the perpetual bachelorhood of our brother.
“Fuck you,” Blade says, turning back for the cow catalog he’s been flipping pages in but not reading. Canyon ignores our youngest brother and turns back to me.
“She’s not a groupie,” he says, keeping his eyes on me. “She’s not looking to gain something by being with you or blabbing to the world she slept with you.”
“Isn’t she?”
Canyon tilts his head. “You don’t really believe she’s here for a second scoop, do you?”
I’d like to think not, and within a heartbeat, I realize I don’t. Scarlett might be a lot of things, but devious just doesn’t seem like one of them. Plus, there’s nothing exciting to report. There wasn’t anything worthwhile in the past either. So I got dumped, and it hurt, but it happens. Maybe not three times, but it still happens to everyone. Even Scarlett had her heart broken by her husband. In some ways, that sounds worse because the commitment to love and honor her was already in place when the cheating occurred. He should have been faithful to her, keeping his promises of loyalty. For a second, I’m grateful I haven’t made those kinds of promises myself to Scarlett.
“If only women came with a ninety-day guarantee,” Blade says, flipping through the cow catalog. “Although she did sound sincere. I mean, she could have started sobbing and wailing, pouring on the waterworks, but she stood here, head up, and said she was sorry.”
My lips twist, contemplating what Blade said. She did sound contrite, but it takes more than an apology to make things right. I’ve heard I’m sorry too many times in my life.
“Wish someone had apologized to me,” Canyon adds, recalling once again a daughter showing up without explanation or apology for keeping the truth from him for nearly a decade.
“It’s also a little ironic that the best woman to cross your path in . . . forever . . . is the one you’re pushing away,” Blade mutters, flipping another page of the catalog without looking up. “But no one asked me, so what do I know?”
“Two seconds ago, you said fuck her,” I remind him.
Blade’s brows lift. “Yeah, and now, I’m thinking, as you already did, and she’s carrying your child, you can’t just let her leave. Plus, people change. See, I just changed my mind.”
“That sounded so stupid it almost made sense,” Canyon says, rolling his eyes at our brother. “Bull, get out of here. Go after her. At least talk to her.”
When did he get to be the rational one about women? His rule of one night only started this whole thing. One and done. Of course, I can’t remember the last time he’s been out and done such a thing. And one night with Scarlett was never going to be enough.
“Fuck,” I groan, yanking my cap off my head and swiping fingers through my hair as I turn for the door.
“Scarlett,” I call out, hoping she’ll slow her pace. She’s traveled pretty far in the time it’s taken my brothers to reprimand me. Jogging down the road, I holler for her again. Unfortunately, she’s at her little sports car, slipping in and backing out of the drive by the time I near the house. Blocking her exit down the lane, Scarlett stops before me, and I round to the side of her BMW.
I’m not certain what I’m supposed to say to her, and when I see her face, my tongue freezes even more. She isn’t sad. She isn’t angry. She’s resolute as if she’s just had enough. Like me, who has had breakup after breakup and then this scandal, Scarlett’s had a shitstorm of events in the past few months with losing her job, finding out about her husband, and getting pregnant with a virtual stranger. She looks finished, and nothing scares me more.
“What do you want, Bull?” The sharpness of her question startles me. What do I want from her? What have I wanted from any of the women in my past?
“Where are you going?” I ask instead of answering her. She slips on a pair of sunglasses.
“I need some . . . retail therapy.”
Is that a thing? “What is that?”
“Look, I just need a day alone, I guess.” She doesn’t look at me. With her eyes forward and large sunglasses covering them, I can’t read her well enough to answer my biggest question: Will she be back?
“What time will you be home?” The need in my voice annoys me, and I hate its presence.
“Home?” she mutters, turning to face me with those oversized glasses blocking her eyes from my sight. She pauses on the word, hesitating over it as though it’s unfamiliar to her. Does she not view my house as her home? Is she going to leave? My eyes drift lower even though I can’t see her belly. What about the baby?
“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Scarlett states, turning her head away from me again. “But I’m not leaving. I know you feel I’ve failed you, and I admit I have. But I’m asking for a little faith in me. I won’t be going anywhere unless you make me leave. Do you want me to go?”
Her determination to stay surprises me, and I don’t know what to make of it. I also don’t respond to her question, and without looking up at me, she puts her car back in drive, and I push off the roof. Sticking around says more about her than running away, and admittedly, Scarlett’s facing us Eatons head-on.
I watch as her car disappears, still worried she doesn’t mean what she’s said but telling myself to believe she’ll be back. We just need some separation for a day . . . or two. Kicking at the dirt, I make my way back to the barn and throw myself into a long day’s work.
Do I want her to go?
It’s a recurring thought as I work the post hole digger into the packed dirt where I need to replace a strip of fencing.
Can I trust her? Like Canyon asked, do I really think she’s here for a second scoop? I don’t. I’m not certain why Scarlett’s in my path, other than the baby, and Sprout weighs heavily on my mind.
The baby is our glue. Parenting partners. Is that all I want from Scarlett? I’ve said I’d never ask her to marry me because that only leads to disaster, but at the moment, I can’t imagine things getting worse than they already are.
When I was with Jennifer, it was young love and twentysomething lust that drew us together. Or maybe it was Jen’s complacency and willingness to give in to whatever I wanted. Her need to be a mother was her strongest ambition, and we were kids who couldn’t seem to survive troubling marital issues like infertility. Scarlett and I are past those younger years of indecisive decision-making. I’d like to think we could act more adult in problem-solving. In good times and bad.
Sabrina had been a relationship of sex and companionship. She filled a void for me, which wasn’t fair to her, and probably explains her search for something deeper with someone else. She was also greedy, which Scarlett is not. Sabrina wanted material things from me more than she wanted me. For richer and poorer.
Finally, Gisela’s wild desires lead to something out of control. Her reckless behavior and artistic ideals just didn’t match who I was. Again, she filled another hole, but then she stole from me, and it was easy to let her leave. Scarlett hasn’t stolen anything but my heart, and once more, the fissure inside aches. To love and honor.