Page 18

Chapter Seventeen

Tasha

I can’t help but feel a bit out of my depth agreeing to this family dinner.

But I couldn’t exactly say no when Gemma offered to lend me an outfit, her face lighting up as she dug through her closet.

The dress she picked for me, a deep wine-colored sheath that hugs my figure in a way I’m not used to, is gorgeous. The fabric is soft and rich, like liquid velvet against my skin, and when I slipped it on, it fit as if it were made for me.

Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. My caramel hair falls in loose waves around my shoulders, and Gemma even insisted on a touch of makeup, which makes my eyes seem brighter and more defined.

It’s as if I’m stepping into a version of myself I’ve only dreamed about.

On the drive over to the restaurant, the city lights twinkle against the deepening night, casting a warm glow over everything.

Brody sneaks longing glances at me from time to time, his gaze lingering.

“You look amazing,” he says softly, his voice filled with admiration that sends a flush of warmth up my cheeks.

Even though I feel completely out of place, his words settle me, and I manage a smile in return, feeling a little more confident with him beside me. Still, the confidence vanishes the moment we step into Ristorante Fioritura .

The restaurant is like something out of a magazine. The walls are painted in muted, earthy hues that remind me of an old Tuscan villa, with deep burgundy and olive tones, and there’s a faint scent of rosemary and garlic drifting through the air, mingling with the aromas of freshly baked bread.

Soft, golden light filters through hand-blown glass chandeliers that dangle from an intricately carved ceiling, casting a warm glow that makes everything feel intimate and luxurious.

As we walk deeper inside, I notice the shelves along the walls, stacked with wine bottles that bear labels with names on them that I can’t pronounce. Each shelf is woven with greenery, delicate ivy and lavender spilling down like a natural tapestry.

The tables are dressed in crisp white linens, each place setting adorned with a sprig of fresh rosemary tucked beside the polished silverware. It’s beautiful, almost intimidatingly so.

I glance down at the menu, the elegant Italian script looping and swirling in ways that make my head spin.

Dishes like risotto al tartufo bianco and osso buco alla Fiorentina leap off the page, sounding luxurious and completely foreign.

I don’t even know what half of it means.

Brody must sense my hesitation, because he gives my hand a gentle squeeze, grounding me. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, smiling warmly. “I’ll help you navigate it.”

His reassurance melts some of my tension, and I follow him to the table, where Josh and Gemma are already seated, looking relaxed and entirely at home.

To my relief, dinner goes far better than I’d feared and thought it might.

Josh, who’s always seemed a bit distant, starts to relax, his initial stiffness softening as he loosens up around his father and wife. He and Gemma laugh easily, trading stories and jokes with Brody, and eventually, I find myself drawn into the conversation, too.

They share anecdotes from their lives: like the time Josh accidentally hit a mailbox with his first car, or when Gemma managed to cook an entire meal using only a toaster after the oven broke.

My plate holds a delicate portion of risotto al tartufo , each grain perfectly creamy, the dish flecked with shavings of fragrant white truffle. I take small bites, savoring the richness, though I’m careful not to eat too much, trying to keep the queasiness at bay.

Thankfully, no one comments on my light appetite, allowing me the space to enjoy the food at my own pace. The flavors are exquisite, the truffle earthy and aromatic, mingling with the creamy pasta in a way that feels both indulgent and comforting.

As the evening wears on, I start to feel a warmth building inside me, something I haven’t felt in a long time. I think it’s a sense of belonging.

Josh and Gemma’s banter is easy and familiar, the kind that comes from years of shared memories and small, unspoken understandings.

Brody, seated beside me, watches his son and daughter-in-law with a prideful, gentle smile that tugs at my heart.

I can see the love in his eyes, the satisfaction of seeing his family happy, and for a moment, I feel like I’m part of it, like I’ve stepped into something real and beautiful.

The ease between them is contagious, and soon I feel myself relaxing, feeling lighter, almost as if this could be my world too.

I laugh at their stories, my own nerves dissolving, and find myself joining in, sharing little snippets about my life back home, though I keep the rougher stories tucked away.

I catch Gemma’s eye across the table, and she gives me a warm, knowing smile. It’s a look that tells me she’s glad I’m here, that she wants me here.

My heart flutters, and for the first time, I dare to imagine that maybe—just maybe—this could be a place where I could belong.

The clinking of glasses, the restaurant hum around us, the soft murmur of conversations, and the warmth of the candlelight giving everything a soft, inviting glow that makes me feel almost sleepy.

I sit back, taking it all in, the sounds, the scents, the laughter, wondering, quietly if this is what family is supposed to feel like. Is family supposed to be about warmth, love, and acceptance?

For a moment, I allow myself to believe that maybe I could be part of this, that maybe I could fit here in Brody’s life. He offers the kind of stability I always dreamed of but never really believed I’d find.

Excusing myself to go to the bathroom, I navigate my way through the maze of tables, feeling more at ease than I did when I first walked in.

After splashing some water on my face and reapplying a bit of lipstick, I make my way back to the dining area.

As I round the corner, I catch sight of Brody and Josh standing at the bar.

My name drifts over, faint but unmistakable, and I stop, my heart thudding as I realize they’re talking about me.

Brody has a glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid as he talks to his son, who’s listening intently.

A part of me wants to turn back, but something holds me in place. I linger near a large potted plant, half-hidden, watching them through the glow of bottles stacked behind the bar.

I sense an underlying tension in the air that makes me nervous.

I shift from foot to foot, my nerves mounting as I hear my name again, swallowing hard and telling myself I shouldn’t be listening in, but I’m frozen, unable to pull myself away.

From where I stand, I can just barely make out Brody’s words, his tone low and cautious. “I know she’s too young for me, Josh…I’m aware of that.” His voice is tinged with an uncharacteristic vulnerability, and I feel my throat tighten. “And now…well, there are complications involved.”

Josh nods slowly, his face thoughtful. He places a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Look, Dad, if you’re feeling like this is getting too complicated, maybe we can help. Gemma loves Tasha, and she’s already talking about her staying with us if she needs a place. You know we’d be happy to help.”

The words hit me like a punch to the nose.

Gemma’s been so kind to me, but the idea of her taking me in like a lost puppy twists something painful inside me.

Just when I think I can’t take any more, Josh leans in, his expression softening as he says, “Besides, there’s more news. Gemma just found out she’s pregnant.”

I feel my pulse spike as Brody’s face lights up, a broad grin spreading across his face as he claps Josh on the back. “Son, that’s amazing news!” he says, his voice booming with pride.

“I’m going to be a granddad.” There’s a warmth in his expression that I’ve never seen—pure and undiluted joy, and it makes something inside me crack.

Tears cloud my eyes, and I clutch the fabric of my borrowed dress, trying to hold myself together. My mind races, and I feel foolish, standing here on the outside looking in, realizing just how much I’ve been hoping for something I can’t ever have.

What was I thinking, imagining myself fitting into this picture-perfect family?

Despite the hurt boiling up in my chest, I stay a little longer, lingering just out of sight, feeling every word from their conversation like the twist of a knife.

The sight of Brody laughing, his face lighting up with joy and ease, brings an overwhelming wave of bitterness and heartbreak with it.

I grit my teeth, feeling the weight of it all press down on me.

Here he is, wealthy, secure, his life all planned out and falling neatly into place. But for me, this pregnancy has become nothing more than a “complication” to him, a wrench thrown into the perfect gears of his well-oiled life.

I’m “too young”, I’m some extra weight he has to figure out how to carry.

This realization strikes me, sharp and unyielding, and something in me hardens.

I can’t stay here another moment.

Turning on my heel, I leave the restaurant, slipping through the door without a word to anyone, the hurt and anger pulsing in every step I take. It’s like I’m finally seeing things for what they are.

My heart pounds as I make my way to the street to call an uber, but my mind is made up—I know what I need to do.

The drive back to Brody’s house is a blur. The Uber speeds along the dark, empty streets, and the glow of the streetlights only sharpens the ache in my chest.

By the time we pull up to the driveway, the house looms dark and quiet, a world away from the laughter and comfort I thought it might offer me.

Inside, I head straight to my room and grab my suitcase. The anger has faded, leaving behind a cold resolve. I toss in my few belongings: clothes, books, the little things that had started to make this place feel like home.

I leave Gemma’s dress on the bed, neatly folded, with a small thank-you note on top.

She’s been nothing but kind to me, and I don’t want her thinking I’ve run off without a word. Even if she didn’t keep my promise.

I pause, looking around the room one last time. Memories flash through my mind: moments of laughter, shared looks, stolen glances that once felt like promises.

But standing here, I feel a hollow emptiness.

I know now where I stand with Brody.

I’m a chapter he didn’t plan for, a detour he can’t fully commit to, and it’s time I accept that. There’s nothing more here for me.

With a deep breath, I grab the suitcase handle and close the door behind me, leaving this room, and Brody, behind.

As I walk through the house toward the front door, I feel my resolve strengthen.

This is what I should have done from the start. I should’ve gone with my bestie and found my footing on my own terms. Vegas. Jasmine.

Somewhere new, somewhere away from Brody’s complicated life.

Before I leave, I stop by the little area near the kitchen where Penny usually lounges. Her puppies are now old enough to be adopted out, and they’re a fluffy bundle of excitement, stumbling around and playing.

Penny’s calm eyes meet mine, and she trots over, nuzzling my leg before licking my face as if she senses my sadness. I gently crouch down, scratching behind her ears as my vision blurs with tears.

“I’m going to miss you, Penny,” I murmur, choking up as she leans into my hand. “And…I wish things could’ve worked out with your daddy.”

My tears fall as Penny licks my cheek, her warm, gentle presence soothing me in a way that makes it even harder to leave.

For a second, I feel like I might break. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t how it was supposed to end.

But I know I can’t stay. I give Penny one last scratch behind her ears, wipe my tears, and stand up, grabbing my suitcase and walking out the door, leaving Penny and everything else behind.

The drive to the nearest hotel feels surreal, like I’m moving through some hazy in-between space where my body is on autopilot, but my mind is spiraling.

The road stretches out in front of me, dark and empty, save for the occasional streetlamp casting pools of cold, artificial light on the pavement.

As I drive, a hollow feeling settles in my chest, filling me up with a kind of numb sadness. It’s as if the weight I’ve been carrying for weeks has lifted, only to be replaced by something heavier—an emptiness that feels vast and overwhelming.

I keep my eyes on the road, but my mind is racing, replaying everything from tonight, every word I overheard at the restaurant, every flicker of excitement on Brody’s face when he thought of Gemma’s pregnancy.

That happiness, that warmth…it was everything I’d hoped he’d feel for me, for us.

Finally, the neon sign of the hotel comes into view, casting a dull, flickering light across the parking lot. I pull in, park, and just sit there for a moment, staring at the building’s faded facade.

The silence inside the car is thick, almost oppressive, pressing down on me as I gather the strength to go inside.

Once I’m in my room, I toss my bag onto the bed, the mattress creaking beneath the weight, and sink down beside it, feeling the exhaustion settle into my bones.

My hands shake as I pull out my phone and dial Jasmine’s number. She picks up almost immediately, her voice as bright and warm as always, bringing a familiar comfort I’ve been craving all night.

“Hey, Tasha! What’s up?”

The sound of her voice undoes me, and before I know it, I’m sobbing, each breath hitching painfully as I try to get the words out. “Jasmine…I’m pregnant. I should have told you sooner.”

Her voice softens instantly, worry replacing the cheerfulness. “Oh, Tasha…hey, hey, it’s okay. Just breathe, okay? Take it slow, girl. I had a feeling.”

My voice wobbles, and fresh tears blur my vision. The memory of Brody’s face, his voice, is sharp in my mind, every word laced with that detached practicality.

He was right there, just inches away from me, but it felt like a chasm had opened between us. I draw in a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but the words tumble out in a rush.

“I overheard Brody talking to his son tonight. He was talking about me like…like I was some mistake he made or a complication he has to deal with.”

Jasmine’s voice is quiet, steady, a lifeline in the storm raging inside me. “Are you sure, Tasha? I mean, people say things in passing, without thinking…”

“Yes, Jasmine. I heard every word. His son even offered to let me stay with them—like I’m some stray they’re taking in. And Gemma’s pregnant, too. Brody was thrilled, clapping Josh on the back, congratulating him.”

My voice cracks, and the pain sharpens, raw and cutting. “But for me…I’m just… something to deal with. A burden.”

I press a hand to my stomach, feeling the weight of what’s happening, the realization that this isn’t just about me and Brody. There’s someone else involved now—someone innocent and unknowing, and I’m the only one they have.

“Oh, Tasha,” Jasmine murmurs, her voice breaking with empathy. “You don’t need that. You deserve better. Come here. Come to Vegas. We’ll figure this out together. You’ll have me. We’ll work it out.”

“I’ll be there in the morning.” I nod, wiping my eyes even though she can’t see me. My voice is steadier now, resolute.

The pain is still there, gnawing at me, but her words give me a new sense of direction. And in that moment, with Jasmine’s promise of support, I feel a small flicker of hope, a fragile yet determined ember of the old fire within me pushing me forward.

I look around, taking in the plain walls, the soft hum of the air conditioning, the faint scent of old carpet.

The room is silent again after I hang up, but this time, the quiet feels different, more bearable.

It’s not home, not by a long shot, but for tonight, it’s a place to breathe, to gather my strength for what lies ahead.

I stare up at the ceiling, lying on the bed, letting my thoughts drift to Vegas, to Jasmine’s welcoming smile, the way she always knows just what to say.

As I close my eyes, the weight in my chest eases just a little, replaced by a fragile, tentative resolve.

The road ahead might be filled with uncertainty, but for the first time tonight, I feel like I’m moving in the right direction.