And now it was hers—well, half hers.
Patrick Jamison had never been a father to her and never would be. But what he did know how to do was throw money at situations to alleviate his guilt. When he’d found out about what Roslyn and Davis had done, he’d signed over the house to Brynn and Reid as an I’m sorry and had taken off to his beach condo to escape the glare of the media. So now, here she was, part owner of a house that probably cost more than she’d ever make in a lifetime of social work.
The plantation-style home didn’t have the proverbial white-picket fence, but in all other respects, it was the kind of house Brynn had dreamed of growing up in. All her life, she’d imagined that behind those manicured gardens laid equally manicured families. Families who ate dinner together, parents who loved each other and worked at normal jobs, kids who didn’t have to wonder if their mother would make it home at night.
She’d sworn to herself that one day, she’d create one of those perfect families, create normalcy. Ensure happiness through putting all the right puzzle pieces in place. Now she had the house to do it in. But after the events of the last few weeks, she’d realized it was all an illusion. There were no perfect families. No Leave-It-To-Beaver households. Behind the pretty columns and rosebushes of the Jamison house had lived a cheating husband and a cold-blooded killer. Deadly secrets covered with the shiny wrapping paper of wealth.
She uncurled her fist and stared at the house key in her palm.
The dream she’d sought all her life had been a false one. She could walk into that beautiful home, fill it with pretty things and find a polite husband who played by the rules. Meet lovely neighbors, attend their lovely parties, play with their lovely children. Be on the other side of envy for a change.
And be completely, out-of-her-mind miserable.
She tossed the key to Reid as he came around from the passenger side. “What the hell are we going to do with this thing?”
Reid chuckled. “Not your style, huh?”
She leaned against the hood of the car, eyeballing the ridiculous garden statues. “Hardly. What about you? I know you’re used to living the high life, Prince Jamison.”
He snorted. “Believe me, I’ve seen enough of this house to last me a few lifetimes. And I don’t want all this. I’m a simple man with simple tastes.”
She rolled her eyes. Reid was a lot of things, but simple would never make the list. “Liar.”
“No, I’m serious.” He stopped in front of her and placed his hands on the car, caging her in. “All I need in a home is a big-screen TV, comfortable furniture, and a beautiful woman—preferably you, preferably naked—to keep me company.”
She laughed. “Is that right? So if I suggested we sell this gaudy thing and buy a house a third its size in a neighborhood without a gate, you’d be cool with that?”
He gave her lips a playful nip. “Have we established if you’re naked in said smaller house?”
“Perhaps.”
“As long as you’re there, I’m sold either way.” He pushed off from the car and stepped back with a smile. “Plus, think of all the money we’ll have left over. We’re going to be able to throw a killer party.”
She raised an eyebrow. “We should probably build the house before planning a housewarming party, don’t you think?”
He shook his head. “We wouldn’t be celebrating a house.”
“What would the party be for then?”
“I know I’m not the most traditional guy ever, but I’m not moving in with you until you make an honest man out of me.”
She cocked her head to the side. “What are you talking about?”
“The collar isn’t enough for me, sugar.” He dug in his jacket pocket and sank to one knee, sucking all the wind from her chest. “I want it all with you. Marriage. Kids. Forever.”
She blinked hard, trying to assure herself that the man before her was real.
He held out a small black box and flipped it open, revealing
a simple but stunning diamond ring. “Will you have me, Brynn LeBreck?”
She gripped the car behind her, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her, and tears filled her eyes. She nodded.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded again, trying to find her voice. “Yes.”
He bowed his head and kissed her hands. “Thank God, I’d hate to have to cuff you and drag you down the aisle.”