Page 77 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

THE CHOICES WE’VE MADE

Brent had convinced her to stop in for a bite to eat, but the idea of this being a date seemed stupid as hell now, as he watched Wren push her food around her plate with the screech of her fork.

“Is the ‘nails on a chalkboard’ technique my punishment for dragging you out to a rich-boy restaurant?” He smirked, chewing his food. Wren paused her scraping, and her mouth curved into a smile that suggested she hadn’t thought about that part.

“Well…when you put it that way,” she grinned, scratching the fork harder into the plate, and making his teeth hurt with the sound.

Brent winced and pointed his fork at her. “There she is.”

Wren huffed a laugh through her nose. “Sorry. I’m just—still trying to understand the load that just got dumped on my chest.”

“Might understand it better if you read whatever is in that envelope. You were brilliant, by the way,” he nodded backward towards the entrance to the eatery. “Back there? With Ambrose?”

Wren chuckled and shook her head. “Nah, see…she politely handed me my ass , and as I’m not accustomed to that, I suddenly feel the urge to take back what I said, and go shit on all her sterile utensils.”

Brent cackled, nearly spitting out his food, and catching it with his hand. Wren exploded, leaning over her plate and slapping a hand to her mouth.

“How is everything?” the waitress asked, trying to settle the stares of fancy-dressed diners around them. Their laughing ceased, and Brent saw the level of discomfort in Wren’s face. He glanced at his plate, barely half-eaten, and then pushed it away.

“You know what?” he said, swallowing his bite, and wiping his mouth with his napkin. “It’s mundane. And not worth the ambiance. We’ll take the check.”

The waitress dropped her mouth open, and Wren raised her eyebrows. “Sir?”

“The check . Here,” he added, reaching into his wallet and producing his card.

“Add a round for every fuckhole staring at us, and let them know they can take that drink, and whatever opinions they’ve gathered about us from the press and shove it straight up their airtight asses.

” She took the card as Wren burst out laughing, and her eyes widened at his name.

“M-Mr. Stratford?” she stuttered.

“Yes. You read it right. I’ve paid for pretty much half this establishment over the years. Maybe more. If I can’t take my lady out without a bunch of criticism, then you’re welcome to keep your shitty food.”

Her jaw shifted up and down, clearly unsure of what to say, and they both stared at her, until she flushed bright red, and left to go run his card. The number of stares were growing.

“I think I’m a bad influence on you, Stratford,” Wren gawked, plopping her back against her chair.

He shrugged, “Or a good one.” He upped the drama and raised his voice. “This duck would be perfect for a demonic sacrifice!”

Wren buried her face in her hands, stifling her giggle as gasps and shock rang around the restaurant. “Oh, my God, Brent.”

“Here you go, sir,” the waitress said, handing him back his card and his check. He snatched the pen and signed, standing, and grabbing the open bottle of champagne out of the bucket of ice.

“My lady?” he smiled, extending a hand to Wren.

She snickered as she took it, rising up from her chair, and allowing him to lead her past the sea of pompous faces.

“Let’s get outta here.” He pressed the mouth of the bottle to his lips and turned it straight up as they barged out of the rotating door.

Wren took the bottle as he passed it to her across the console and drank a long swig. “Well…that was epic.”

Brent grinned, slowing at the third light they’d gotten stopped at since blowing a shame grenade at the fancy restaurant. “I agree. That felt fucking good, I have to admit.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t celebrate your newfound badassery, just yet…” Wren laughed, catching his confused stare, and drinking again.

“You gonna tell me I’m not snarky enough for the witch trials?”

Wren snorted, swallowing. “Did you forget about your nurse telling you she was gonna have a night on the town with her hubby?”

His eyes boggled. “ Nooo …was she in there?!”

It was all she could do not to bust out laughing again. “Oh, yes, sir! Just as shocked and shaken as the rest of them. I saw her on our way out while you were inhaling champagne.”

“Dear, God…Wren I’m never gonna be able to show my face in that hospital again.”

She snickered. “Yeah, we’re earning ourselves quite the rep, aren’t we?

” When the drive got a little quiet, she wondered if she’d been pushing him inch by inch towards this Brent that he didn’t know how to be.

Wondered if he was actually doing it for himself.

“Brent?” He snapped out of his daydream and glanced toward her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“One, do not call me ma’am. It’s disgusting. And two…are you having any second thoughts about…us?”

She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but she didn’t expect him to look at her like she was nuts, and have several cars honk at them as he swerved into a parallel parking spot. He leaned over the console, propping his elbow on it.

“Why in the hell would you say something like that? Did you think I was putting on a show for you back there?”

“Weren’t you?” she asked, honestly.

His face fell into something like hurt. “Wren…look, I—I told you, I don’t really know this Brent. I’m still trying to get to know him, and occupy his body, okay? But I want you to understand that the man I am now? Has never felt more free. More…”

“Happy?”

He smiled softly. “ Very . I’m very happy. And yes, I put on a show, but it was half to make you smile, and half to go tell Brent’s old life to go fuck itself. I should have never taken you to a place like that.”

“What were you thinking about a minute ago, then?”

Brent rested against the back of the seat and stared at her quietly.

“I was thinking about Nell. About everything she left to you. I was thinking about the shitty ceiling at the therapist's office, and the fact that I don’t wanna live in my apartment anymore. About Sarah and Athan, and how he jumped ship to go live with her, when I wouldn’t even stay the night. My inheritance.”

It was starting to register where this was going, and she felt weak. Nervous. “Don’t you dare propose to me right now. I’ll fucking punch you in the face.”

Brent scoffed, chuckling under his breath. “I wasn’t gonna. But I did wanna ask you something.”

“I’m scared to ask what it is, bitch-boy.”

“If I—if I left Boston…would you consider coming with?”

Something in her stomach flipped over. Again, and again.

She’d forgotten all about his notion to sell his place and hadn’t thought about leaving Boston since she’d got there.

But…at the same time, she saw its appeal.

The press. The hate. The bad memories, and the constant disappointment.

But there was also a lot of good left in Boston.

Sarah. Rhaena, and Brandon. The people they were close to.

Starting over would mean…starting over. She could understand why he felt the hard need for it, but she couldn’t figure out if she was ready to do the same.

“You don’t have to answer now. I haven’t even listed my apartment yet.

But would you think about it? I’ll take that money and build you a studio fit for a queen, Wren.

We can showcase Nell’s collection. You can hire people to help you restore more stuff.

Or have a whole space for you to paint and exist. We could buy a tattoo shop, and you wouldn’t have to answer to anybody.

Wouldn’t have to be an apprentice anymore.

We could build something better than Boston and its dumpster fire full of bullshit. ”

“There could be a light at the end of this tunnel, or there could be a dumpster fire. Either way…just know you’re not alone in it. I’m not okay either.”

It was a future worthy of everything they’d been through to get here.

Everything she’d put him through before it.

She knew he just wanted her to be happy, and that he was dying to find that happiness with her.

But she’d spent such a long time running from the idea of a serious relationship, and all the mushy shit that went with it.

This was something else altogether. A commitment. A life .

“I’ll—I’ll think about it,” she said, taking a drink from the bottle, and passing it over to him. He smiled, and took it, sipping from the neck. “Where were you considering if you left?”

He handed the bottle back, and took the car out of gear, pulling back onto the street. “I honestly have no idea. Anywhere but here? We could close our eyes and throw darts at a map? Or a fucking globe? I don’t really care.”

The rest of the ride was quiet with both their rampant thoughts.

Wren fidgeted with the corners of the envelope in her pocket.

When they finally got to her place, Brent opted for a shower, and she declined his offer to join him in it, instead plopping down on the couch and pulling the envelope from her jacket.

She sighed heavily, grief-stricken, and curious, and slid her thumb through the opening, breaking the seal.

Wren,

You’re probably trying to scrape your jaw off the floor by now, and I can’t blame you for it.

Before those questions start firing off in that thick skull, let me just be forward.

I’m an old woman, who’s lived a very long, very fulfilling life, and you don’t get to question my choices in it.

I’ve earned those. And you’ve earned this.

By the time I was the age you are now, I’d barely begun to experience the world.

You’ve had it thrown at you and took every blow like a brick wall.

I can’t imagine what it’s been like for someone so young.

The day you walked into my shop with Athan, and that girl…

I saw a fire light up in you. I saw the fire I once had a long time ago. A fire that the world forgot.