Page 3 of Red, White, and You (Merry Little Midlife #3)

Just over three hours later—and not nearly long enough to complete my extensive to-do list—I’m forced to exit the vehicle in the middle of a forest in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

Well, not forced in the true sense of the word, but if my driver clears his throat one more time, I’m going to be concerned for his health.

With a deep sigh, I ask, “The time for changing my mind has passed, hasn’t it, Clarence?”

“Yes, Ms. Donovan-West.”

“Ten years, ma’am.”

As I slide my hand into his, I say, “You’re never going to call me Brielle, are you?”

Clarence’s thick mustache twitches with the ghost of a smile. “No, ma’am.”

When I rise to my feet, my heels crunch in the dirt and I frown at the sound.

Further, as I breathe in the forest air, it occurs to me that the scent of the earth beneath my feet is stronger than the scent of pine—which certainly isn’t a good sign.

All the arrivals have kicked up a lot of dust in their scurrying about.

But even as I force my upper lip to uncurl, I’m filled with a sense of melancholy.

It’s nostalgic, this scent, reminding me of the summers of my youth, when my sister and I would come home from the state fair stinking of the outdoors, with corn kernels in our teeth and brown mucus in our—

Oh dear.

Barely stepped foot back at summer camp and I’m already talking about bodily functions. Gross. I knew I shouldn’t have come. Just a few moments here and I’m regressing. Soon I’ll be skipping showers in favor of skipping rocks.

Where is the smog? Where is the uniquely Manhattan scent of burnt street meat and garbage?

I can’t possibly be expected to breathe here for a whole week.

What have I done?

Gripping Clarence’s hand tighter as my pulse begins to race, I scan the area.

I’m surrounded by Subarus and pickup trucks with cargo strapped to their rooftops and bike racks on their trunks.

Their owners wear various shades of khaki and green, hiking boots and sneakers blending in with the surrounding flora and fauna.

Some of them even wear orange. Bright, safety cone orange that hurst my eyes nearly as much as it hurts my soul.

I drop my head and focus on my black pumps. “These were a mistake,” I whisper, then force myself to look up at Cabin 17.

Though cabin is an exaggeration. This is a tent . Well, half of it is. The base of Cabin 17 is wood, coming up to about waist high, then the rest of the structure is fabric.

Actual fabric. Will that keep the bears out? The insects ?

As if on cue, something buzzes near my ear. Squeezing my eyes shut, I swat it away and count to ten, then open my eyes again and focus on my lodging for the next seven days.

“It’s not exactly a tent or a cabin, is it?” I ask Clarence, still holding onto his hand for dear life. It’s just an odd hybrid of both… “Is this what a yurt looks like?”

Clarence makes a sound that could be a chuckle, but when I glance at him, he’s a perfect mask of stoicism.

Cabin… yurt… it doesn’t matter, does it? Either way, I’ve made a mistake thinking I could do this.

Clarence clears his throat again and I purse my lips. “Do you need a throat lozenge, Clarence?”

“No, Ms. Donovan-West.”

“Hm.” I look down at our clasped hands, frowning. What does it say about me that my closest friends are my business partner and my driver—who won’t even use my first name when he addresses me?

But if I release the death-grip I have on his hand, he might leave, and that would mean I’d be stuck here, so…

“Is everything all right, Ms. Donovan-West?” Clarence asks slowly. His deep-set eyes are hidden behind his dark glasses, but I can feel him watching me in that knowing, fatherly way of his.

I shake my head, then decide to answer honestly. “I think I’ve made a mistake,” I whisper. “We should go back to the city.”

His eyebrows rise and he opens his mouth to reply, but he gives me a curt nod instead of commenting about how many hours we’ve just spent in the car, or the fact that he’s fully aware I’ve spent those hours clearing my schedule for the week.

Or that my assistant spent the morning shopping for and filling not one but two massive suitcases and a duffel bag that now wait at my feet.

No, Clarence says none of those things; instead, he gives my hand a quick but unmistakable squeeze and waits for me to climb back into the car. I turn around to do just that when a door squeaks on its hinges as it opens behind me, then closes with a loud bang that makes me jump.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already…”

I suck in a gasp as my ex-husband’s deep, familiar voice steals my breath.

Memories flood me, a bombardment of happier times. Moments I haven’t allowed myself to think of in years, pushed safely to the back of my mind and tucked away so I could live a life without him, so I could function with only one half of my heart.

Because the other half has always remained with him.

Emotion squeezes my chest. Nearly twenty years without that man and my body still reacts the same way to his presence.

Relief.

Desire.

Desperation .

My pulse speeds.

Tears sting behind my eyes. Fucking tears .

How long has it been since I cried? Years? Decades?

Since we said goodbye?

How long can I stand here? How quickly can I get into the car? If Clarence could read minds, I’d shout at him to hurry up! Get in! Start the car! Go, go, go!

“Stop acting like you didn’t hear me, Breezy.”

The familiar nickname causes a lump of emotion to lodge itself in my throat.

I close my eyes on a long blink and fight against the way Brady’s voice still makes me want to run into his arms. To find in him the love and safety I have yet to find anywhere else.

Not that I’ve looked very hard. How could I when I’d already found the one meant for me?

Nodding my head in acceptance—or defeat—I brace myself for what I might see when I finally acknowledge him, then turn in a slow circle to meet his gaze.

I almost weep at the sight of him.

Could he possibly be more beautiful than I remember?

He inhales so deeply his chest visibly expands then deflates with the movement.

Age has only accentuated his good looks, the bastard.

The dusting of gray at his temples makes him look distinguished.

The crow’s feet that border each eye give the impression he laughs often.

His smile lines do the same, while emphasizing his full, rosy lips.

The deep tan of his skin makes his cerulean eyes resemble the clearest blue sky reflected off the surface of a lake.

His arms are bronzed, corded steel, and his t-shirt is taut against his biceps.

With his hands tucked into his front pockets, he looks every bit the relaxed, peaceful man I remember.

Only now he’s far more beautiful and impossibly sexier.

As I shamelessly ogle him, his eyes devour me in return, drinking me in as if I’m the oasis he’s searched for after years in the scorching desert.

“Brady,” I finally whisper. “What are you doing here?” As if I don’t already know. As if he’s not here for the same reason as I am, because I am.

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward the cabin behind him. “Seventeen. Our lucky number.”

We were seventeen when we met .

Which confirms what I’d already assumed but had been too afraid to believe for fear that I was wrong. “You sent me the invite to come here.”

He nods.

We haven’t spoken in almost two decades. Our divorce nearly destroyed us both, and suddenly I have no idea how I survived without him all these years.

Being near him again feels like the first time I’ve actually breathed in decades.

The rest of the adult campers continue to move around us as if the air doesn’t feel different now that my ex and I are in the same place at the same time.

Like the air isn’t charged and sparking with the electricity our bodies create when they are within range of one another.

Everyone is going about their business as if the two of us being here together didn’t just completely knock the world off its axis.

“Why?” I ask.

His lips pull into a sexy smirk and my body reacts accordingly, heat pooling low in my belly. Then he tilts his head, those brilliant blue eyes softening. “When’s the last time you relaxed, Brie?”

Shame heats my cheeks, but I begin to smile and he beats me to it, flashing me that grin that knocked me off my axis all those years ago.

“That’s what I thought.” He nods toward the cabin again. “Stay with me. Give me a week.”

His request, simple as it is, splits me in half.

It’s a harmless request; what’s one week?

But I’ve never loved anyone like I loved this man, not before and certainly not after. It took me years to get over him, years to learn how to function without him. I’ve been able to survive without him, though now I’m not entirely sure how I’ve managed.

While a week together sounds innocent enough, it’s anything but. Because once this week is over…

My heart squeezes painfully and I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“You’re already here, Breezy.” His repeated use of that nickname sinks into my bones and warms my blood. Brady splays his hands. “Getting here was the hardest part.”

Oh, if only those words were true. Leaving him again at the end of this week will be the hardest part.

“It’s just one week,” he adds with a shrug. “Seven days.”

I can’t do this.

I’ve worked too hard to learn how to live without his light.

We stand locked in this battle for seconds that turn into minutes. Camp life continues around us, no one paying any attention to the way I’m stuck in place, riveted by his gaze and already breaking inside from the knowledge that I have him within my reach again.

And will have to leave him again too.

Tears prick my eyes. Thank God they’re hidden behind my sunglasses.

But he doesn’t push me, still as patient as ever.

Because my mouth clearly has a mind of its own, it opens. “One week,” I finally concede, the words shocking me even as they flow from my own lips.

Again, he shrugs as if we’re discussing the weather and not this life-altering decision. “One week.”

It’s not that simple, but I can’t refuse him. Can’t refuse this opportunity to get to know him again.

So I nod .

And I think it’s a mistake, but I can’t take it back. Not when every cell of my being aches to close the distance between us. Not when my lungs beg to be filled with his scent. And my body screams to be wrapped up in his arms.

Smiling triumphantly, he starts down the steps toward me. “All right then, let’s get you settled.”

Settled? I cringe as I scan the cabin and the surrounding forest, then watch the people clamoring all around us, their voices loud and faces animated. I look back at Brady and raise my eyebrows.

“As settled as you can be,” he acknowledges with a wink, knowing me all too well, as if time hasn’t changed us at all.

Somewhat reluctantly, although most definitely intrigued, I release Clarence’s hand and say my goodbyes. He climbs back into the car and I watch as he drives away, acutely aware of my ex-husband’s presence beside me.

As the black sedan disappears over the crest of a hill, I brace myself. No turning back now.

Deep inhale. Slow exhale. This is it. I’m actually doing this.

Brady hauls the duffel strap over his shoulder then grabs the handles of my two large suitcases, smiling smugly as he walks toward the cabin.

With butterflies kicking up a storm in my belly, I follow this unfairly gorgeous man up the steps.

Once upon a time, I would have followed him anywhere.

I almost chuckle at the thought; seems even two decades couldn’t change that fact.