Maybe Never by Nia Forrester Page B

finished for him, feeling a pang in her chest. “That’s where you were going with that sentence, right?”
    “All I’m saying is we’re getting married in a month. Why heap on ‘homework’ on top of everything else? Now we have to write vows on a deadline?”
    “I wouldn’t have any trouble thinking of things to say to you at the altar,” Tracy said carefully. She looked at him but Brendan kept his eyes firmly on the road. “If you woke me up in the middle of the night, I would know what to say. Why, would you have trouble thinking of what to say to me ?”
    Brendan didn’t answer for a moment then finally sighed. “Okay, Tracy, we’ll write our own vows.”
    “You’re saying that just to shut me up.”
    “No, I’m saying that because if it’s what you want, we can do it.”
    “Brendan, are you . . .”
    She stopped and he looked at her.
    It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he had doubts. Considering that he might not want this, or want her as much as she did him was frightening. But not as frightening as giving him an out would have been, doing the ‘noble’ thing and telling him that he didn’t have to marry her just because she was pregnant.
    “Am I what?”
    “Nothing.”
    “It’s not nothing. Something’s on your mind, so tell me.” He sounded irritable, exhausted.
    “You’re doing the vows because I want them. You’re doing everything I want . . .”
    “And that’s the problem?” Brendan snapped. “That I’m doing exactly what you want?”
    Tracy pulled back, surprised at the vehemence of his tone.
    “You haven’t even expressed a preference for the meal we’re going to eat at the reception. The color of the boutonnieres. Nothing.”
    “Because the wedding is your territory, Tracy.”
    “I’m not marrying myself,” Tracy said, her voice shaking. “Although it almost feels that way.”
    “What were you and Riley talking about all afternoon? You two have a way of getting each other all worked up.”
    “It has nothing to do with what Riley and I were talking about. It has to do with you being so damned . . . cooperative lately.”
    Brendan barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh that’s just great.”
    “It’s like you say yes to shut me up, like you can’t even stand to talk about the wedding, so you agree to everything . . .”
    “Because I don’t give a shit about the wedding if you want to know the God’s honest truth!”
    If he had turned and punched her in the stomach, she could not have been more surprised. And it would have hurt much less. Tracy blinked back the tears that seemed to come out of nowhere.
    Brendan looked at her and heaved a deep sigh, reaching out a hand to grab her thigh. Tracy brushed it aside, moving as far away from him as she could manage in the confines of the car.
    “Tracy, what I mean is . . .”
    “Shut up,” she warned. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say right now.”
    Back at the apartment, Tracy headed straight for the bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed dialed Russell’s number. Brendan entered behind her, standing in front of her while she talked.
    “Hey,” Tracy said when Russell answered. “Are you in town?”
    “Yeah. Downtown. What’s up?”
    “I want you to come get me,” she said. She could feel the tears about to start, but she wouldn’t do it. Not with Brendan standing there.
    “Okay. But what’s up?”
    “I’ll tell you later. How long?”
    “I can get in a cab. Be there in a half hour,” Russell offered. “But what’s . . .”
    “Okay, do that. I’ll be out front.” Tracy ended the call and stood. Brendan was directly in front of her. They were inches apart. She refused to look up at his face.
    “Get out of my way,” she said calmly.
    “No. Tracy, look . . .”
    “That’s the most hurtful thing you’ve ever said to me, Brendan.”
    “I didn’t mean . . .”
    “Is there some other interpretation to ‘I don’t give a shit about the wedding’? Because if there is,