The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

22. Brenna

22

brENNA

B y the time we arrive home with all our shopping bags and boxes, the energy I drew from my white chocolate peppermint mocha—double shot of espresso, thank you very much—is pretty much gone. I’m feeling both the late night and the stress of trying to figure out my life. All I want is a plate of Thanksgiving leftovers and a nap. Unfortunately, only one of those is in my future.

“Hey, how was your morning?” I ask Zach when he walks into the kitchen. Everyone is gathering here and the room is loud, crowded with people filling plates and talking. Even Isaac and the twins are here to meet Sara and have lunch together.

“Fine.” He smiles awkwardly like he’s uncomfortable.

I squint and move closer to him, lowering my voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Just ready to eat some lunch. What about you? You look a little tired.” His expression is concerned, and the awkwardness fades away as he puts a hand on my upper arm. “You should go rest.”

“Can’t,” I say simply. “We have to eat lunch and then leave, remember?”

“I remember. Why don’t you at least go sit down and let me make you a plate?”

I bite my tongue before the words “you don’t have to do that” can escape yet again, and one side of his mouth quirks up in a half smile that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I give him a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Good girl,” he says in a low voice, throwing me a wink before sauntering away.

A flush washes over me, and for the first time today, I wish I wasn’t wearing this big cozy sweater. Resisting the urge to fan my face, I settle into a seat at the island and wait.

He’s very efficient, filling two plates and delivering mine before taking the seat beside me.

My mom looks up at us from her place on the other side of the island where she’s slicing a loaf of bread. “Zach, do you do much Christmas decorating at your house? Brenna doesn’t decorate her apartment.” She says this with obvious judgment.

“I don’t have room for a lot of decorations,” I explain somewhat patiently for the millionth time. “I’m not a Scrooge. I like decorating.”

She ignores me, her attention on Zach as she waits for his response.

“Not much,” he says shaking his head. “I usually just put up a miniature tree my friend’s wife gave me and call it good. It doesn’t seem worth it to go all out for just me.”

Mom looks askance at him. “I don’t see why that would keep you from wanting to have Christmas cheer in your home. I would still decorate if I lived alone.”

“She would,” I confirm around a mouthful of yams.

“Well, we’ll show you how it’s done this afternoon,” Mom assures him.

“About that…” I might have neglected to tell her that we are leaving earlier than planned. “We have to go home this afternoon. As soon as we finish eating, actually. Something urgent came up at work.”

“Oh no!” Kenzie exclaims, gaping at me in dismay. “You can’t miss the decorating, Aunt Bee.”

All at once, I feel my eyes start to burn. I’ve been doing my best to push aside the disappointment of having to miss out on the end of my sister and nieces’ visit, but her exclamation pushes my tired self over the edge. I hang my head, my lower lip quivering.

“She doesn’t want to,” Zach explains gently. I feel a warm touch when he places a hand on the small of my back in a comforting gesture. “Sometimes these things can’t be helped, and I know she’ll miss you.”

On impulse, I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder with a sniff, willing my emotions back into control. His hand moves in slow circles on my back.

“It will be alright.” Mom’s squeezing Kenzie’s shoulder but her eyes are on me. “We’ll see you again soon for Christmas, and I’ll be sure to save the decoration deconstruction for you.”

I huff a laugh and sit up. “I bet you will.”

“Will you be coming back with her for Christmas, Zach?” Heather asks, sidling up beside Mom and Kenzie. She gestures with one finger between the two of us. “Should we be expecting a wedding announcement at some point in the future?”

“A wedding!” Kenzie brightens considerably. “I would do anything to be your flower girl. Anything!”

“Heather!” I exclaim, my face heating. I swear, I must look like I have a permanent sunburn by now. I’ve blushed more in the last forty-eight hours than in the previous five years. “Now look what you’ve started.”

“What?” She shrugs innocently. “It’s a big sister’s job to ask about your boyfriend’s intentions.”

“No, it’s not,” Mom interjects, holding up a hand to end the discussion. “Brenna is an adult. She can make her own decisions without interference or interrogation from any of us.”

I give Heather a smug smile. “Thank you, Mom.”

“But if someone were going to investigate intentions, it would be your father.” She nods firmly and walks away with the basket of sliced bread.

I chance a mortified glance at Zach to find him smiling in amusement. “I’m so sorry about my family. I can’t take them anywhere.”

Heather shrugs again with a mischievous grin. “Just watching out for you, sis.”

“I bet.” If nothing else, she did lighten the mood, so I have that to be thankful for. I shovel in a mouthful of green bean casserole to discourage any more conversation and thank my lucky stars when Ben calls my sister away a moment later, Kenzie trailing behind her.

Zach’s hand drops from my waist and I miss the warmth of his touch.

“I really am sorry,” I tell Zach quietly. “I don’t know why they seem bent on making us both uncomfortable. I’d be worried about them driving you away if we were together for real.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle a little teasing,” he says with a smile.

“Will you be ready to leave when we’re done eating?” I ask. “I still have a couple things to pack up, but then I’ll be good to go.”

“Ready whenever you are.” He wipes his mouth and pushes back from the counter. “But I think we should have a piece of pie first.”

I’ll never argue with that. I accept the pie he presents to me—with extra whipped cream because he’s totally got the hang of feeding me now—and allow myself to bask in the comfort and peace of eating a homemade meal in my parents’ kitchen with a multitude of family members in close proximity. I know I’ll be back in a month for Christmas, but I’m still sad to leave.

For the first time since I left Knoxville for school and then stayed away for work, I notice an unfamiliar longing tugging at my heart. After high school I was ready to hit the road, let the innate desire for independence I’d always possessed rise to the surface and do my own thing in my own way. I don’t regret the distance between us to this point. But in this moment, maybe because I’ve been questioning so much about my life recently, I find the thought of living closer to “home” more appealing than ever before.

The idea of Sunday dinners here or stopping by Isaac’s house to tussle with my nephews after work brings a smile to my lips.

“What are you thinking?” Zach asks, breaking my reverie.

I sigh and shake my head, unable to think of a simple way to explain the deep emotions I am experiencing. “Just thinking about family and what it means to be home.”

He makes a humming sound deep in his throat. “I can honestly say that this holiday has felt the most like ‘home’ that I can remember since my parents died.”

My gaze snaps to his and the sincerity of his sentiment is plain in his expression.

“I’m glad you came, Zach.”

“So am I.”

I let my eyes drift over his face, taking in details I’ve never noticed before, like the hint of a dimple on only his right cheek or the small scar on his chin that stands in contrast to the shadow of stubble that has been darkening as he’s opted not to shave over the past few days. My fingers itch to reach up and trace the faint white line.

“Got that when I was fourteen,” he says and my eyes jump back up to his. I didn’t realize I’d leaned toward him, our faces now surprisingly close. “I went through a skateboarding phase. It didn’t last long.”

“Because of whatever caused the scar?” Why does my voice sound breathless?

“Yes and no. I wasn’t scared of getting hurt again, but I broke my board and decided I didn’t care enough to buy a new one.”

A mental image of teenage Zach on a skateboard makes me smile. I bet he was exactly the type of guy I would have crushed on in high school.

“Here you go.” I jump as Mom speaks beside me. She’s holding out a canvas bag and I take it, glancing inside to see a tin foil-covered dish and yet another loaf of her fresh bread wrapped in plastic. She must have been cranking that stuff out like a commercial bakery this week. “I packed up the rest of the leftover turkey and a loaf of bread for you two to make sandwiches with tonight. Hopefully, you have your own condiments.”

“Yes, Mother, I have condiments.”

She nods, unaffected by my sardonic tone. “Good. Here, let me take your plates.”

I lean back and allow her access to our empty dishes. “Thanks, Mom. It’s been great to be home for Thanksgiving, and I can’t wait to come back for Christmas.”

“Yes, thank you,” Zach agrees as we stand. “This is the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years.”

“Well, I hope you’ll come back at Christmas as well, then.” Mom gives him a warm smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you and see who our Brenna is spending her time with. You take care of her, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am. I definitely will.”

“Okay, well, we’d better grab our bags and head out.” I tug on Zach’s arm and turn him toward the door. I need to get him out of here before my mother coerces him into making promises he can’t keep with his fake boyfriend status. “I’ll come give you a hug before we leave.”

“You’d better be careful what you commit to in the presence of Elaine Hartford,” I tell him as soon as we are out of earshot in the stairwell. “She’s liable to call you up and make sure you’re following through.”

He looks surprised. “Are you talking about her asking me to take care of you?”

“Yes. You don’t have to take care of me. You’ve done enough by just being here for this.”

“I don’t mind taking care of you a little,” he says with a smile. “Friends help each other, right?”

We reach my room and he pauses in the doorway, watching me gather up the last few items to stuff in my overnight bag.

“You’ve helped me more than a little already. I don’t need any more help.”

“So if I offered to carry that heavy-looking bag down to the car for you, you’d tell me no?” He smirks in challenge.

As much as I want to be a strong, independent woman, I’m also not an idiot. I won’t turn down the assistance a nice set of muscles like his could offer, especially not on a day when I’m already exhausted.

“I would gratefully accept such an offer,” I tell him. “You’re my boyfriend for a few more minutes until we leave. It seems like the kind of thing a boyfriend should do.”

“Agreed. Wait right here.” Zach leaves and comes right back with his bag slung over his shoulder. He leans over and hefts my bag as if it’s filled with marshmallows instead of clothes and a binder of documents heavy with the weight of my career.

I have to fight back another wave of emotion when I reach the bottom of the stairs to find my whole family congregated in the foyer to say goodbye. I go down the line, hugging each person tightly.

“I’ll see you all again in a month.” I blow a final kiss as I walk out the front door. Zach is waiting for me at the car, having loaded up our stuff after thanking my parents for their hospitality. He opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in and buckle before reaching for my bag in the back seat to retrieve the binder.

He slides into the driver’s seat with a wince and immediately reaches for the seat adjustment. “Sorry to mess with your setup, but my knees are touching the steering wheel.”

“Make yourself comfortable. The driver gets what the driver wants, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He shoots me a grin, adjusting the mirrors and air vents as well.

I wait until we are on the interstate before opening the binder of despair with a sigh. It’s a little before two o’clock, and we are right on schedule to arrive with time to spare, so all I have to do is summon up my motivation and get through the remaining pages.

I make it through about ten sheets before Zach asks, “Is this sort of thing typical?”

I glance up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You mentioned you have a demanding boss. Does he ask you to do things like this often?”

“You mean go review contracts? All the time. Paperwork is the beating heart of any law office.” I shrug. “It’s part of the job.”

“I meant more like asking you to do things that cut into your personal time.”

“Well, yeah.” I think about this for a minute, mindlessly marking another page as I consider. “I knew when I took the job that there might be some work outside of normal business hours. The firm charges our clients the kind of fees that suggest we’ll be available to them at all times. Many are high-profile businesses that don’t stop for much, so they expect us to operate similarly.”

Zach makes a face. “So you’re okay with that?”

“I mean, I guess so? Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to move your career forward. It won’t always be like this. I just have to pay my dues and then I’ll be promoted and the workload will change.”

“Well, that’s good.” Zach depresses the turn signal to change lanes.

“Yep, it’s all part of the plan.” The words are directed at him, but I could use the pep talk myself. “I graduated with honors, passed the bar, and got a competitive position at a prestigious law firm. I just have to keep working hard and one day things will be better.” I nod to myself.

I don’t hazard a look at Zach, scared I’ll find that he doesn’t buy my justifications. “I know you’re probably wondering why I stay. I’ve just worked so hard to get where I am that I don’t want to lose my progress. This is what I want.” I say it with as much conviction as I can, but the words seem hollow somehow. I wonder if I’m starting to not mean them.

“It sounds like you’re scared,” he replies and I swivel to frown at him.

“I’m not?—”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he interrupts gently. “It’s normal to be scared when you make a change. I had a lot of the same concerns you probably do when I switched from accounting to lawn care. What if it doesn’t work out? Why did I get this accounting degree if I’m not going to use it? Was everything I did up till now a waste of time?”

I freeze. It’s like he’s reading my mind. “So how did you get through it?”

He considers the question for a moment. “I think I ultimately just decided that if I wasn’t happy with where I was, my only two options were to resign myself to that life or make a change. And I realized that one of those sounded scarier than the other, at least to me.”

“Hmmm.” I know it’s not much of a response, but he doesn’t seem to mind letting me digest this revelation by myself. Which of the two possibilities do I find scarier? I shove the question away. Right now, I’m just taking it one page at a time. I’ll have time to figure the rest out later.

We ride in silence for a while, and I make some progress on the contract, despite the distracting thoughts buzzing around in my head and my waning energy. I stifle a yawn, the late night catching up with me.

“Hey,” Zach says. “You look like you could use a boost. What do you say to stopping for a milkshake?”

“I’d say that would really hit the spot.”

A little sugar to wake me up is just what I need.