Chapter Thirty-Two
Thanksgiving arrived, and it was shaping up to be the most memorable one yet. The rumors had started, and things were being leaked to the press. Clickbait headlines abounded, like, Is John Holland’s Legacy in Question? Or John Holland: Criminal or Man for the People? Of course, there wasn’t much meat to the stories . . . yet. Things were just starting to churn in Washington, per John’s intel. It was enough, though, that people in Carrington Cove were curious. So curious, my baby had never been busier. It seemed as if everyone came into the restaurant hoping to talk to Brant or even me.
Brant had zero time to talk to anyone seeking gossip. He was busy preparing for his father’s defense, and we had lots of decisions to make about the restaurant. We had decided to move forward as if the future weren’t full of uncertainty. Like Brant had said, nothing is ever guaranteed. I loved that. If we lived life like something was always going to go wrong, we would never accomplish much. I think a lot of my life I’d lived like that. I had reacted instead of being proactive because I was always afraid. So, I was forging ahead with renovations and the new menu. Most importantly, I was being deliberate with my relationships despite another warning from Jill that I would never have Brant. I’d texted back, Watch me.
Jill wasn’t the only one to contact us. Edward had tried to strike a deal with John. He’d promised he could make it all go away, just like he had the last time. John held firm. Of course, it angered Edward. He, like his daughter, was threatening to ruin all of our lives and make John pay. The thing Edward didn’t realize was that John had been paying. He didn’t understand that John wanted to be a loser like me. It was the only chance he had of winning Sheridan back.
I didn’t think Edward or Jill knew what real love was, so they didn’t understand John’s, or even Brant’s motivation. They didn’t know love could cure an addiction to power and wealth. But I understood how alluring those forces were. It made me worried about how desperate they might get to hold on to the power they wielded.
However, we had all decided that our Thanksgiving was going to be a day of thanks for one another. There would be no talk of what may or may not happen. The Copelands were an off-limits topic. We all wanted to enjoy this day, knowing next year could look very different for all of us, especially Sheridan and John. It was why she’d asked if we could have Thanksgiving at their home. She wanted everyone to come, including Grandma and Grandpa and Ariana’s family. I think it had rubbed Grandma wrong, at first. She had ill feelings toward John. No one blamed her. John was a complicated soul, to be sure. Even I didn’t know how to feel about him. Not even his wife did. But Grandma had relented, knowing how much it meant to Brock and even Brant, who she was beginning to love once again. I think a lot of that was Dani’s doing.
So, there Brant and I found ourselves, driving to his parents’ house, midmorning on a crystal-clear day after a trail run at our favorite spot. I say run, though halfway up the trail it had turned into a major make out session. Best calories I had ever burned. Even better was knowing there were no prying eyes on the private property. Or, at least, I hoped not. If they had taken some pictures, I would love to see them. Brant was on his A game. My lips were still swollen, and my heart was still racing.
Brant kept grinning over at me during the short drive. I was pretty sure he was admiring his handiwork. He’d destroyed my messy bun, and my neck was red from the way his fine layer of scruff had brushed against my skin. But he had handled me carefully. He was adamant that we keep sex out of the equation. I’d never been with anyone who felt like that before. It made me stop and think that maybe I’d had the wrong idea about sex too. Brant made me feel cherished in a way I had never experienced. And while I knew he loved my body, he treated it with reverence and respect. It made me want to do the same. I had never been into one-night stands or even treated sex casually, but I’d been in relationships where we were racing to that finish line as if that were the ultimate goal. Those men had taken a piece of me without a second thought, and I had done the same to them. But as soon as those relationships had ended, those pieces meant nothing. When I gave myself to Brant, I wanted it to mean something. I wanted what we shared with each other to never be tossed to the side. Brant was ensuring that would be the outcome, and for that I loved him more.