Stomach rolls.
Oh boy.
More sweat. But now my mouth turns into a gusher.
Griffin lifts his eyebrow.
Reid’s eyes narrow.
Rogan says, “Oh shit, he’s going to—”
I reach for the closest thing next to me, open it wide, and puke out my bad decisions from last night.
“That’s unpleasant,” Dad says.
“Why is his retching so violent?” Reid adds.
“Is he passing a boot out of his throat?” Griffin asks.
“That’s my purse,” Harper, the newlywed, sighs.
Oh fuck.
I convulse more one time and when I think I’m done, I lift my face away to glance at my puke bag and yup . . . that’s a purse.
Shyly, I try to grin at Harper, but all I see is a livid Rogan.
“Uh, were you planning on keeping this?” I ask, holding up the bag. “Aren’t you supposed to get a new purse when you get married? Kind of like a new driver’s license? You know, switch over the last name, switch the purse too?”
“You’ll be buying her a new one,” Rogan says.
“Yup.” I nod. Just as Jen hands me a water and a plate of bacon. She’s an angel—always loved me the most out of all my brothers. “You’ve been sent from above to be my guardian,” I say to her, wanting to rub my clammy cheek against her arm for comfort.
Jen removes the purse from my hands and takes it to the deck, because she’s a good sister. Harper follows closely behind.
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching out only to pick up a piece of bacon and shove it into my mouth, followed by a large gulp of water.
The room is silent as my family stares at me, watching me take bite after bite of bacon until I feel like I’m okay.
One more swig of water, and I set the plate of bacon on the coffee table.
“So about this whole Ruth thing,” I say. “I think we should all just let me handle it—”
“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Griffin says, sarcasm flooding his voice. “Because from the sounds of it, you’re handling it perfectly. Both of you were angry drunk last night, bickering, and Ruth left crying.”
“She was crying?” I ask, my hands clenching into fists.
“Yes, she was,” Eve answers.
Shit.
I chew on my cheek, thinking back to last night and the ridiculous and painful drama.
“Are you really playing the victim card right now, Brig?”
“I was just the girl handing you coffee. It wasn’t until I practically threw myself at you that you realized I was worth spending time with.”
The shock, the confusion . . . the idiotic things I said. Huh . . . maybe I am a moron.
“She was the one writing me letters,” I say, solemnly.
“Good God, Brig,” Mom says. “We know.”
“You know? Did she tell you?”
“We knew way before that,” Rogan says, just as the doorbell rings.
I glance toward the entry. “If that’s Ruth, I will puke in everyone’s purses. I’m not kidding. One bad whiff of something and I’m rearing to go.”
From the back deck, Jen bounds down the hall and opens the door.
“Mrs. Davenport, thank you for coming over this morning.”
Mrs. Davenport? What is she doing here?
“Not a problem at all,” comes Mrs. Davenport’s shaky voice. She walks into the living room and Rogan quickly stands from his seat, offering her a cushioned chair. Mrs. Davenport and Rogan are close, so when she reaches up and pats his cheek, I know it’s a loving gesture within their friendship.
Once seated, she folds her hands in her lap and looks me in the eyes, “Brig Knightly, you’re a moron.”
Jesus.
Leaning back, I toss my hands up and say, “What the hell? You know I’m fucking sensitive, so I can only take the moron comment so much.”
“Don’t swear at Mrs. Davenport,” Dad booms.
“I wasn’t swearing at her. I was swearing to the room.” My dad’s eyes sharpen and my balls shrivel up. “Sorry, won’t happen again.”
Jen sits on the arm of the couch and says, “Brig, we’re all here because we’re worried about you.”
Here it comes, the intervention.
“We were so worried that we teamed up with Mrs. Davenport to help you.”
“Help me?” I ask, looking around, now detecting some guilty faces. “What are you talking about?”
They all look at each other and then Rogan steps up just as Harper returns from the deck. “The Summer of Love program. Uh, that was all a farce.”
“What?” I seethe. “The letters were fake?”
“No.” Rogan shakes his head. “The program was fake. You and Ruth were the only ones participating in it. We designed it specifically for you and Ruth, so you could get to know her better.”
“You set me up?” They all nod. “Every single one of you?” They nod again. “Why?”
“Because you’re a moron,” my dad says, only for my mom to press her hand against his leg.
“Brig, we love you dearly, but this whole curse thing had taken over your life. You’ve been trying so hard to ‘break’ it,” she says, using air quotes, “that you’ve missed the chance at love right in front of you. Ruth has crushed on you for so long. We all knew she’d be perfect for you. Just enough give and take between you two for a solid friendship that blossoms into a life-long relationship. But you needed a nudge, and we knew if we did it in an offhand way, you’d go for it.”
I push my hand through my hair. “I can’t believe you deceived me. You all acted like you had no idea what was going on.”
“It was for your own good,” Rogan says. “You needed a shove in the ass. Ruth’s amazing.”
“She’s beautiful and smart,” Griffin adds.
“Funny and outgoing with a caring heart,” Mom says.
“Your exact type and you didn’t even see it,” Reid says with annoyance. “We were sick of watching you look straight through her, hurting her unintentionally, so we did something about it. And then you went and fucked it up.”
“Hold on,” I say, sitting up now, my mind spinning. “What about the whole Parlor thing? Did you set that up with Mrs. Burberry?”
Griffin chuckles. “That was Rylee’s idea actually. She’s been a great help in all of this.”
“I can’t fu—uh, freaking believe this,” I say, catching myself. “You had no right butting into my business.”
“We did,” Harper says. All eyes turn on her. She gazes at me softly. “Brig, I’ve known you since you were a little boy, and I’ve cherished watching you grow into the man you are today. Therefore, I also saw the toll the curse took on you. I’m not saying I believe in anything that happened in New Orleans, but I do know it affected you deeply. I watched you lose faith in love. In yourself. I watched you try so hard that you kept missing every chance you had. And I watched you day in and day out, speak to a girl who wanted—deserved—your attention, and you didn’t even notice her. We might have matched you guys together, but you did the work. You put in the time to get to know her. You built the connection, and you’re the one who’s letting it slip through your fingers without giving her a fighting chance.” She takes a deep breath. “You love her.”