Bridges Burned (Entangled Teen) (Going Down in Flames) (14 page)

“That’s great.” She tried to sound happy. “This will give me a chance to finalize our plans for Christmas Eve.”

When they reached the restaurant, Bryn scanned the room for Valmont. He appeared from the kitchen wiping his hands on a white-and-red checked towel. His eyes focused on her within seconds. He smiled like she was the best thing he’d seen all day.

Happy warmth filled her chest as he crossed the room to meet her. His gaze took in Jaxon and Lillith. When he reached her, he put his arm around her shoulders in a proprietary manner, which gave her a warm fuzzy feeling.

“I’m off work in an hour. Want to go Christmas shopping?” Valmont asked, like Jaxon and his mother weren’t standing there.

“Sure. I’m having lunch with Jaxon, Lillith, and my grandmother. After that I don’t have any plans.”

Valmont squeezed her shoulders and then removed his arm. “You’ll need a table for four. Would you like to sit by the windows up front or would you prefer a quiet table in the back?”

Jaxon said, “In the back,” at the same time his mom said, “By the windows, please.”

Valmont made a show of looking back and forth between Jaxon and his mother. “Sorry, I think she outranks you.”

Lillith grinned like a Cheshire cat as Valmont led them to a table by the front windows. “Is this to your liking?” he asked.

“This is perfect.” Lillith sat when Valmont pulled out her chair. “How do you know Bryn?”

“I’m her knight,” Valmont stated, like it was the most common thing in the world.

Lillith’s eyebrows shot up. “How did this come to be?”

“An obnoxious individual threatened Bryn, and I interceded,” Valmont said as he passed out menus.

Thank God he didn’t go into details. Today was supposed to be about forgetting Zavien, not dredging up old memories.

“Why don’t I bring a round of iced tea and some toasted ravioli while you wait for the rest of your party?”

Bryn’s stomach growled. Toasted ravioli sounded wonderful.

…

Jaxon sat ramrod straight in his chair, eyeing the front door like he expected Godzilla to come charging in. Given a meeting with Godzilla or her grandmother, Bryn wasn’t sure whom she’d choose. At least Godzilla wasn’t trying to fix her up with Jaxon.

What would she say when her grandmother walked in? How should she behave? She had no clue. “Lillith, this is awkward, but how should I act when my grandmother comes in? I hug my parents, but my grandmother doesn’t seem like the hugging type.”

Jaxon snorted.

Lillith pretended not to hear him. “If you were close, it would be proper to kiss her on the cheek.”

She’d spent limited time with her grandmother. “Close” wasn’t a word she’d use to describe their relationship. “I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

“I suggest you follow her lead. If she leans in, kiss her on the cheek. If not, then a light touch on her shoulder would be appropriate.”

Like she didn’t have enough to be nervous about. When Valmont returned with drinks and two trays of ravioli, she considered kissing him.

He winked at her. “I knew you’d be hungry.”

“You’re the best knight ever.” She unrolled the napkin containing her utensils and speared a ravioli with her fork. A quick dunk into marinara sauce, and she popped the ravioli in her mouth. It was crunchy, spicy Italian bliss. She was working her way through her sixth ravioli when conversation died down around them.

Marie Sinclair entered the establishment and heads turned. Fonzoli’s probably wasn’t on the list of restaurants her grandmother visited on a regular basis. Wearing a crisp dove-gray suit, her grandmother broadcast power and influence. Bryn resisted the urge to apologize for her gray sweatshirt and jeans.

Jaxon stood to pull out her grandmother’s chair.

“Mrs. Sinclair, how nice to see you again.”

“Thank you. It’s lovely to see you and your mother as well.” Her grandmother sat and turned to Bryn. Expectation and challenge clear on her face.

“Hello, Grandmother.” Hoping for the best, Bryn leaned in and pecked her grandmother on the cheek. “It’s nice to see you.”

A genuine smile lit the older woman’s face. “Thank you. It’s nice to see you, too.”

Okay. That went better than expected. Now what?

Valmont appeared next to Bryn. “Mrs. Sinclair, may I bring you something to drink while you study the menu?”

“I’ll have a glass of white wine and the pasta primavera.”

Since she probably shouldn’t eat an entire pizza in front of her grandmother, what was the easiest, least-likely-to-drip-on-her-shirt meal she could order? Best to choose something she could eat with a knife and fork.

“Bryn?”

An escape route wasn’t within Valmont’s power, so she decided on two pepperoni calzones.

After everyone placed their orders, her grandmother said, “We should discuss our plans for Christmas Eve.”

It was hard to discuss something she knew nothing about. “What time do you usually have dinner?”

“Dinner is served at eight. Of course the orchestra starts playing at six.”

Wait. What?
“You’re having an orchestra?”

Her grandmother sighed. “I tried to convince your grandfather we should go with a three-string quartet, but he had other ideas.”

Three-string quartet? What had she gotten herself into? “When I hear ‘Christmas Eve dinner,’ I imagine sitting down to eat with a few family members. What do you mean when you say it?”

Her grandmother blinked. “I’m referring to our annual Christmas Eve ball.”

A ball…as in Cinderella-riding-in-a-horse-drawn-carriage kind of ball?
Where is my fairy godmother when I need one?
What in the heck would she wear?

“I’ve never been to a ball,” seemed like the only rational response.

Jaxon snorted.

Bryn’s grandmother turned her steely gaze on him. “Did you have something to add to the conversation, young man?”

“No. Sorry. That was rude of me. I can’t imagine a life where you’ve never been to a Christmas ball.”

Bryn imagined beaning him in the head with a ravioli, but then she realized this wasn’t about Jaxon. It was about mending fences with her grandparents. Keeping her voice calm and even, she ignored Jaxon and addressed her grandmother. “A ball sounds fun. I assume people dance and eat. What else happens?”

“After dinner, we adjourn to a separate ballroom where everyone opens one present. The rest are saved for Christmas morning.”

Okay. Her grandparents had more than one ballroom. Interesting. Did she need to buy presents for her grandparents? What could you buy for people who had two freaking ballrooms?

“I love watching the little ones open their presents.” Lillith’s hand drifted to her stomach. “It will be a few years before Asher figures out how Christmas works.”

“Asher?” Bryn’s grandmother asked.

Lillith practically glowed. “I’m expecting a boy.”

“Congratulations.” Her grandmother held up her wine in a toast. “I hope he brings you as much joy as Jaxon has.”

Bryn snorted.

Jaxon glared at her.

Bryn tried to look repentant, but ended up laughing. “Sorry. It’s just that I don’t associate you with joy.”

“He wasn’t always this intense,” Lillith said. “You should have seen him when he was three. He walked around clutching this bear—”

“Mother.” Jaxon sounded like he was moments from exploding.

Lillith reached over and ruffled his hair. The mutinous expression on his face almost made Bryn choke on the ravioli she’d popped into her mouth. “Bryn needs to know you’re not always this serious. After all, if the Directorate approves your lineage—”

“Here’s your food.” Valmont passed out entr
é
es, oblivious to what he’d interrupted.

“Anything else I can get for you?” he asked.

“Strychnine, or a noose,” Jaxon muttered.

“Sorry, you have to call ahead for special orders.” Valmont touched Bryn’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll rescue you if things turn ugly.”

“Thanks.”

Her grandmother watched Valmont walk away. “Are you friends with the waiter?”

“He’s my knight.”

“You do seem to foster relationships with the most inappropriate people.” Her grandmother’s tone was frosty.

Fire rose in Bryn’s throat. Concentrating, she pushed it back down. After taking a drink of her ice water, she cut into the calzone. “Valmont is one of the most honorable people I know. If anything bad were to happen, I know I could trust him to be on my side.”

“And you couldn’t trust me?” Her grandmother’s tone was flat and cold.

Just like that, lunch went to hell. Bryn set her fork down and gave her grandmother her full attention. “If I played my role according to polite society, this is the part where I’d declare my undying trust in you. However, I was raised to be honest. The truth is, I don’t know you well enough to answer that question. I’m sorry if this starts us out on the wrong foot.”

Lillith and Jaxon both looked like they were ready to duck and cover. Had she ruined everything?

“Although my daughter is to blame for your lack of social skills, at least she instilled in you a good moral code. While I don’t like your answer, I appreciate your honesty.”

Bryn’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Do sit up straight, and try to keep your elbows off the table.”

After adjusting her posture, Bryn tackled the next thorny topic of conversation. “Are my parents invited to dinner Christmas Eve?”

Sipping her wine, her grandmother stared off into the distance. Was she remembering Christmases past? Had there ever been a happy Christmas Eve at her grandmother’s house? They probably hadn’t stayed up all night eating cookies and stringing popcorn.

“Your grandfather and I decided it might be best if your parents came for a private visit on a different day.”

That was convenient. She gripped her fork tighter and tried to keep the snark out of her voice. “Any day in particular?”

“A day between Christmas and New Year’s would be ideal. You can discuss it with them when you return home for the holidays, and then we’ll make plans.”

Strain showed around her grandmother’s eyes. Giving this inch must’ve cost her a lot.

“Thank you for agreeing to see them.”

Her grandmother nodded. “On to more important business. Do you have an appropriate gown for the ball?”

She had the copper dress she’d worn to the fall dance. Not a happy memory. God forbid she wear a dress her grandmother deemed inappropriate. Best to ask for help. “What type of gown are we talking about?”

“We should go shopping together.” Lillith announced like it was a fabulous idea.

If the woman weren’t with child, Bryn would’ve kicked her.

“I agree.” Bryn’s grandmother tilted her head and studied Lillith. “Are you feeling well enough to go shopping after lunch, or do you require rest?”

“I’m fine.” Lillith turned to Bryn. “I know you planned to Christmas shop with your knight. Perhaps you can reschedule?”

Noooooo
. She wanted to spend time with Valmont. Now it appeared she’d have to spend the day with her grandmother and Lillith.

“I’m sure your friend will understand.” From the set of her grandmother’s jaw, saying no wasn’t an option.

Bryn pushed her chair back from the table. “Why don’t I go chat with him right now?” She headed for the kitchen door and waited for Valmont to appear. He finished taking an order at a table across the room and then headed her way.

“In need of a rescue?” he asked.

“Yes, but I don’t think it would help my relationship with my grandmother. She wants to go shopping after lunch. Could I meet you later?”

“Sure.” He reached over and brushed a crumb off her chin. “Why don’t you come back after you finish shopping?”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Part understanding. Part fear. Your grandmother is one scary woman.”

Chapter Twenty

After lunch, Bryn followed her grandmother, Lillith, and a mutinous Jaxon to a small dress store off the main street.

“I didn’t know there were stores back here,” Bryn said.

“It’s not a store, it’s a boutique.” Rather than reach for the door handle, her grandmother pressed what looked like a doorbell. The saleswoman glanced up from the cash register when she heard the bell and flew across the room to unlock the doors.

“Mrs. Sinclair, how lovely to see you.” Jaxon and his mother walked in. “And the Westgates—it’s always a pleasure when you stop by. What can I help you with today?”

With all that sucking up, the woman must work on commission.

“I need a Christmas gown for my granddaughter.”

The saleswoman glanced at the door, like she was searching for another person. Bryn cleared her throat, and the woman put the puzzle pieces together. “Sorry, I expected someone more…”

“Blond?” Bryn said with a grin.

“Yes.” She swallowed and seemed to regain her composure. “Come with me. I’m sure we have something perfect for you.”

Right.

The woman whisked her off to a dressing room and then returned with a dozen dresses. Wait. Not dresses. They were gowns…actual ball gowns made of what she knew had to be real silk. Every single one had ruffles or sequins or lace. The bodices were stiff and the skirts were floor length.

None of them looked like something her grandmother might wear. Was this a test?

“Excuse me, I need to ask my grandmother a question.” She stuck her head out of the dressing room. “Do the gowns have to be so…frilly?”

“Frilly?” Her grandmother frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The dresses are age appropriate,” the saleslady said.

“I’m sure these dresses would be lovely for someone else. I’d prefer something without ruffles, or lace, or sequins.” She looked at her grandmother. “Unless you disagree. I’ve never been to a ball before, so maybe I don’t understand what’s expected.”

Her grandmother shot the saleslady a look that would’ve reduced a small child to tears. “Remove those gowns from the dressing room and find Bryn a strapless silk sheath dress in a dignified color.”

“Of course. My mistake.” The saleslady scurried off to do as her grandmother asked. When she was out of hearing range, Bryn said, “One of the dresses had ruffles and lace
and
sequins. I think there might have been some feathers mixed in as well.” She shuddered. “It was awful.”

“Was it lavender?” Lillith asked.

Bryn nodded.

“That dress has been here forever. I think they’ve been trying to pawn it off on some poor girl for the last twenty years.”

The saleslady returned with a handful of dresses. Tight-lipped, she hung them in the dressing room and then retreated to the cash register.

Bryn examined her choices. This was more like it.

There was an emerald sleeveless gown that resembled something an actress might wear on the red carpet. Could she pull it off? Only one way to find out. Stripping out of her clothes, Bryn slid into the whisper soft silk. She checked the three-way mirror and did a small happy dance. The dress fit like a glove. The knee-length slit allowed her to walk without shuffling her feet.

She stepped out of the dressing room. “What do you think?”

Lillith clapped her hands together. “It’s lovely.”

Head tilted to the side, her grandmother scanned Bryn from head to toe. “Turn around.”

Ignoring the resentment she felt at being ordered around like a puppy, Bryn did as her grandmother asked. When she completed the rotation she expected to find her grandmother nodding in approval. This was not the case.

“Tell me those tattoos aren’t permanent,” her grandmother said.

Bryn’s throat grew tight. Zavien had drawn the tattoos with permanent marker. Bryn used her skill with Quintessence to keep them vibrant, thereby avoiding needles. She’d requested the image of the Blue and Red dragons, head to tail in a yin-yang circle, because it represented who she was. Zavien had added a small black dragon on her right shoulder signifying she was an honorary Black dragon. She could remove the black dragon, but the yin-yang dragons representing her mixed parentage stayed.

“Do you dislike tattoos in general, or mine in particular?”

“Both.” Shoulders squared, her grandmother appeared ready to do battle.

Bryn took a deep breath and blew it out. There were going to be bumps in this road to reunion, but in the end it would be worth it. Hopefully. “If you can give a little, I’ll give a little. The yin-yang dragons stay, and I’ll make the smaller one disappear.”

“I’d prefer it the other way around.” Her grandmother straightened the sleeve of her blouse.

“It represents who I am.” Bryn smoothed her hands over the skirt of the gown. “Even if I remove the tattoo, people will know who my parents are. I won’t hide my heritage to make others comfortable.”

Fingers drumming on the armrest of the couch, her grandmother’s lips set in a thin line. “Fine. Now, let’s talk about your hair color, or colors. Perhaps you could pick one?”

That did it. Bryn concentrated and shifted the Quintessence in her body to color her hair neon green. “Like this, you mean?”

Lillith seemed overcome by a coughing fit, to hide her laughter.

Her grandmother reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. “You
are
your mother’s daughter. Aren’t you?”

“I am.” Maybe this wasn’t going to work. A hollow feeling settled in her stomach. “If you want someone to smile and nod, I’m not your girl.”

“You’re the only granddaughter I have. My hope is you’ll mature and grow out of this odd hair phase. For now, change your hair back, and eliminate the smaller tattoo.” Her grandmother turned to face the saleslady. “We need shoes and a small, tasteful handbag.”

“Emerald green is such a lovely color.” Lillith touched Jaxon’s shoulder. “A bow tie in that color would be striking with your black tuxedo.”

“No.” Jaxon spoke in a voice that mimicked his father’s.

Lillith snatched her hand back like she’d been burned. Her eyes filled with tears.

Jaxon sighed. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. Rhianna is still my date, and my bow tie will match her gown.”

Damn it. There Jaxon went again, doing something nice.

“I appreciate your loyalty, young man, but the argument is pointless,” Bryn’s grandmother said. “This morning I received word Rhianna and her family will be traveling to Europe over the holidays. Be that as it may, the tradition of matching bow ties to gowns may be appropriate for school dances, but not for an actual ball.”

Lillith sniffled. “Ferrin matches his ties to my gowns.”

Her grandmother gave a tight smile. “I see. Perhaps I am old-fashioned in my thinking. If you wish to buy Jaxon the matching emerald bow tie, please do.”

“I don’t believe Father would find an emerald bow tie amusing. If you’ll excuse me, I have homework to complete.” Jaxon headed for the door, pushing it open so hard it bounced against the wall and rattled the glass in the windowpanes.

“He has a temper like his father,” Lillith said.

“Which is why I wish you’d stop trying to fix us up. If you keep pushing Jaxon and me together, one of us won’t come out alive.”

Bryn’s grandmother rose and came toward her until they were arm’s length apart. “Do you enjoy flying?”

Was this a trick question? “Yes.”

“Do you still want to become a medic?”

Not knowing what was coming, Bryn nodded and waited for her grandmother to move in for the kill.

“And do you think your parents enjoy their isolation? Don’t they miss flying?”

She’d never thought of her parents in those terms before. When did they have time to fly? The simple fact that she’d never suspected they were anything but human told her how infrequent their flights must have been. A weight of sadness pressed on her heart.

“I can see it in your eyes. You realize now what they gave up. You will marry whomever the Directorate chooses if you wish to live this life.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“No.” Her grandmother reached to cup her chin. “I’m trying to save you. Understand this: marriage is a legal contract that produces children. Nothing more. Love isn’t part of the equation.”

Bryn felt her nails digging into her palms and unclenched her fists. “Did you ever love your husband?”

“No. And I’m better off for it.” Leaning in, her grandmother pressed a light kiss on her cheek. “I’ll have your gown delivered to our estate. You can dress there before the ball.”

Her grandmother exited the boutique.

“She’s right, you know,” Lillith said.

The blond woman looked so fragile sitting on the couch alone.

Bryn joined her. “Right about what?”

“It’s better not to love someone who can’t love you back.” Lillith sighed and averted her gaze. “When my contract with Ferrin was approved, I thought myself the luckiest girl in the world. He was so handsome. When he came to call on me at school, he was the perfect gentleman. All my classmates were jealous.

“It wasn’t until we were married that I noticed his lack of warmth. At first, I thought I’d done something wrong. Gradually I came to realize he’d never recovered from your mother’s defection. I could never live up to her memory. So I stopped trying.”

Not knowing what else to say, Bryn went with her gut. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I have a good life. My son loves me. And I have another child on the way. I’m happy. You could be happy with Jaxon.”

It was difficult to swallow over the lump in her throat. Lillith and her grandmother meant well, but a loveless life would never be enough. “There is no way Ferrin will allow me to marry Jaxon.”
Thank God.
“It’s silly to discuss this.”

“A few weeks ago, I would’ve agreed. Rhianna’s accident opened a door for you. Jaxon is handsome, smart, and loyal.”

Bryn sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s stubborn and he has a foul temper.”

A slow grin spread across Lillith’s face. “Must be like looking in a mirror.”

Not like she could argue that point. “Fine. Our temperaments are similar. That alone should be reason for us not to marry. Think about how obnoxious your grandchildren would be.”

“I know you respect my son,” Lillith went on, ignoring Bryn’s argument. “And he respects you. That is a good foundation for a relationship.”

This conversation was going nowhere. Bryn pushed to her feet. “Believe what you will. I’m going to change out of this dress, go back to Fonzoli’s and spend time with Valmont.”

When she reached the restaurant there was a line out the door of people waiting to be seated. Crap. Maybe she could sneak in the back. The door to the kitchen stood wide open to let the heat out. Should she go in?

Valmont’s grandfather saw her and waved her inside, spouting something in Italian. The only word she understood was “Valmont.”

The door to the dining room swung open and Valmont strode in. Just seeing him made her feel better. When he looked up and grinned, her stress melted away. His single dimple was like therapy. The hug he pulled her into felt heavenly. He smelled like Italian spices.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.” He grabbed her hand like it was the most normal thing in the world and led her through a door at the back of the kitchen and up a flight of narrow wooden stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“My secret sanctuary.” At the top of the stairs, Valmont produced a key from his shirt pocket and unlocked the door before gesturing for Bryn to go in. “Ladies first.”

A strange sense of d
é
j
à
vu came over her. Jaxon had said those same words outside the baby clothing store, but hadn’t meant them. Jerk. Valmont meant it.

The polished oak floors and walls of the attic room gleamed in the light. A marble-topped table sat in the middle of the room. The matching chairs were black cast-iron with gray cushions. She blinked. It was patio furniture.

A glider swing sat in the far corner of the room with matching chairs. Colorful pots of roses and other flowers were scattered around the room on small tables or lined up against the baseboards. Their sweet scents permeated the room. “It’s a garden. How’s that possible?”

“Look up,” Valmont said.

The roof was punctuated with rows of windows. There were so many, and so evenly spaced, the ceiling resembled a checkerboard made of light and dark squares.

“I love it.”

“My grandmother loves to garden, so my grandfather built this room as a wedding gift so she would always have a garden no matter the season.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Why don’t you pick a chair, and I’ll go fix us a couple of cappuccinos.”

“Sounds good.” She wandered the room smelling different flowers. Several roses were in full bloom, and half a dozen buds appeared ready to burst. She touched a red rose, channeling a bit of Quintessence into the soil. The buds burst open and their fragrance filled the air.

Maybe she could become a florist or a gardener. Beautiful flowers made people happy. If she was a florist or a gardener, she could move back to the human world and leave this entire mess behind. But then she wouldn’t be able to fly whenever she wanted or become a medic. Damn her grandmother for putting those thoughts into her head.

The sound of Valmont’s footsteps on the stairs kept her from trying her skills on another plant. He entered the room carrying a small tray with two steaming cups of cappuccino, sugar, and cream.

She inhaled the rich coffee scent. “That smells fabulous.”

Once they were seated at the table, he seemed content to drink his coffee in silence. After a few minutes, she couldn’t take the quiet. “What does your family do for Christmas?”

“I have a sister and an older brother who are married. Between them they have three boys and two girls. Christmas Eve, my parents, siblings, and all the assorted nieces and nephews squeeze into my grandparents’ house, eat until we’re about to burst, and then have a ping-pong tournament.”

“Ping-pong?”

He grinned. “My grandmother is the undefeated champion.”