What the hell? “All right, I’m stumped. What gives?”
“It’s all this.” She swept her hand to encompass the stacks of wallpaper books and paint samples.
“Baby preparations? I told the contractor and interior designer to let you pick whatever you want.”
She swung her feet off his lap. “But you’re picking decorators and knocking out walls and trying to take over my life.”
Okay. At least she’d been honest, not that he understood her in the least. What was he supposed to do? Back away?
However, he couldn’t fight with her, even if the doctor had reassured them she was rapidly improving. Her blood pressure was already down to normal. A few more days with her feet up, just to be safe, and she would be cleared in time for Brittany’s wedding.
Still, he wasn’t taking any chances by arguing with her. “Regardless of whether or not you live here, I need to set up a place for the baby. I would like your input. If you end up living here, great. Regardless, it will give you something to do while you sit around. I know you’ve decreased your workload, and I thought this would fill the gap with something lighter.”
“I figured I could still help with my sister’s wedding through phone calls.”
“I’m cool with whatever doesn’t stress you out.”
Her brown eyes snapped with irritation. “You’re not the one with the final say in that.”
Damn. He wanted her to quit veiling her thoughts from him, and he’d sure gotten his wish today. No doubt about where she stood on that issue.
Unfortunately, he’d been having the final say on most everything in his life for a long time. He took a deep breath and tried to be patient.
“I worry you don’t know when to stop pushing yourself. I know you’re bored.”
“Bored is too mild a word. If my family didn’t visit, I would go nuts.” Her head fell back with a heavy sigh. “Although I’m starting to wonder if you’ve locked Mother out of the front gate. I really expected she would show up by now, not that I’m complaining about her absence after our last encounter.”
He started to lead the conversation in another, less stressful direction, then changed his mind. Bottled-up stress was worse, according to her doctor. “How long has she been an alcoholic?”
“For as long as I can remember. Even when she painted on the beach, the jug of sangria went along with her.” She looked down from the ceiling to meet his eyes.
“It’s not like we were neglected. We always had round-the-clock nannies—and each other.”
“That doesn’t negate what your mother put you through.”
“I know.”
He stared in her eyes and saw the milky-brown darken with frustration, pain, then helplessness. Her siblings had wanted to keep the news of Bonita entering rehab from Brooke. Jordan realized now that she should know. He would face the wrath of the Garrisons, if need be.
Jordan thought about reaching for her hand, but she still had those stand-back vibes going. “Your brothers met with your mother to discuss her problem.”
“They did what?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise, before slamming down again.
“Wait…You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
“Do you really think you could have participated in an intervention in your condition right now?”
“Okay, fair enough.” Her stiff spine eased. “What happened?”
“They checked your mother into a rehab center the day you were released from the hospital.” How would Brooke feel about that? He couldn’t get a read off her.
“Are you okay with this?”
“Of course. It’s a good thing. I just can’t help but feel I should have been there.”
She took his hand, the distance between them fading for the moment.
“Thank you for telling me, though. I understand you’re trying to pamper me, but I can’t take your keeping things from me. There have been too many secrets in my family. If I found out you were lying to me…”
He felt her slender fingers curl around his, understood the gesture she’d made in reaching out to him. Now he faced another dilemma. Tell her the truth about what he’d done with the newspaper leak and risk everything. Or roll the dice that she would never find out.
Damn it. He knew what he had to do. “I need to tell you something.”
“Hey, why the scowl? It can’t be worse than having to think about my mother in rehab.”
“This honesty stuff, I want to be straight up with you.”
Her delicately arched eyebrows pinched together. “You’re starting to scare me, and that’s not good.”
“Then I’ll just spill it. The newspaper leak about our relationship wasn’t an accident.”
Her hand went ice-cold in his.
She eased her fingers free. “You started the media frenzy?”
He hadn’t meant to stir all the gossip about her family, but that was beside the point. It was his fault, and he took full responsibility for the strain he could now see it had placed on Brooke. “I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior.
All I can say is that I would do things differently now, and I’m sorry.”
Brooke hugged her stomach protectively for another long stretch of time before nodding. “You wanted to get the announcement over with all at once.”
“What makes you think that?” He’d expected anger, tears even, but not an understanding of his motives. He’d always prided himself on playing things close to the vest. What people didn’t know they couldn’t use against him.
Having someone see through him so thoroughly was uncomfortable.
She shrugged. “That’s what Parker would do, and you two are a lot alike.”
Well that bit. Hard. “You’re that mad at me, are you?”
“I’m disappointed, but I understand. But you have to realize that when you make unilateral decisions that affect both of us—without telling me—you’re not easing stress for me. You’re increasing it, especially after the passive way I’ve handled family relationships for too long. Whether I sense something’s off or find out later, it tears at me.”
Guilt hammered at him, made all the worse by how easily she’d let him off the hook, even going so far as to take some responsibility by mentioning how she’d dealt with her family in the past. I’m sorry seemed too little to offer.
“I won’t excuse what you did, Jordan , but I can see where you came to your decision and forgive what happened.” Her spine straightened with unmistakable steel. “As long as you promise never to lie to me again.”