Almost A Bravo

Kip Anders said, “Aislinn. Excellent,” as though she’d done something wonderful. “Anyone care for more coffee or whatever?” When no one moved toward the credenza for a refill, he straightened his stack of papers. “All right, then, let’s continue.”

Aislinn sat down and tried to ignore the frantic racing of her heart. Her hands were shaking. She folded them tightly in her lap to keep them still.

“A few important points.” Kip sent them each a cool smile. “As you will see when you go over your copy of the will, Martin instructs that the wedding must take place within a week from today, and that it must also be ‘more than in name only.’”

“What does that even mean?” Aislinn asked furiously.

“And how do you enforce it?” asked Jax.

“It is a gray area,” Anders replied. “In Oregon, there is no requirement for consummation by sexual relations. That means you will be legally married once you’ve acquired the marriage license and said your vows before a recognized official—be that a clergy person or a representative of the court. To be married ‘in more than name only’ in this case will include getting the license, going through with the ceremony and living together at Wild River for the full three months during which you must remain true to your marriage vows.”

I’m not marrying anyone, Aislinn thought with vehemence. But she pressed her lips into a thin line and kept quiet for once. Her embarrassing long-ago crush on Jax aside, she considered him a good man. She liked him and she didn’t want to mess him over. That ranch meant the world to him. She couldn’t quite bring herself to outright refuse to help him keep what he wanted the most. At least not right now, not yet.

She needed to think it over.

And she would. After she met with her brothers and they confirmed that this story about Martin Durand being her father had to be a complete fabrication. First and foremost, she needed to reassure herself of the truth from the ones who had been there in Montedoro at Villa Della Torre on the night she was born.

The lawyer said, “To further clarify, after the marriage ceremony, you two must be sexually monogamous for the required three months. You will cohabitate at the ranch house at Wild River. Martin has arranged for someone from Kircher and Anders to drop by randomly in order to confirm that you continue to live together for the entire three-month period required by the will.”

“I hate to speak ill of the dead,” muttered Aislinn, because she had to say something, “but that old man was a terrible, awful, horrible person and I sincerely hope he is rotting in hell.”

Burt grumbled something under his breath at that. Erma stared straight ahead. Jax only gave her a sympathetic glance and a one-shouldered shrug, as if to say, Yeah, I loved him, but I see your point.

Kip Anders went on to explain that after the wedding, he would need a copy of the license to prove they had met the requirement of marrying within the week and to begin the countdown to the three-month time limit.

At eleven forty, Kip Anders finally walked them out to the waiting room, where the receptionist gave each of them a blue folder containing copies of Martin’s infuriating letter and the will. Tucked in the front pocket of each folder was a contact sheet, which included a secure online address where they could access an electronic copy of everything in the folder.

On the list of contacts was the phone number and address of the Seattle private investigator Martin had hired to find Madison and Paula Delaney.

Aislinn cringed just at the sight of the PI’s name. That Martin had hired the man seemed yet another proof that his story might actually be true—though it wasn’t.

Absolutely not. So what if Paula and Lloyd Delaney had once worked at Wild River and even had a daughter who grew up to be the Madison Delaney?

All that could be true. And Aislinn could still be a Bravo by birth.

Out on the sidewalk again, Jax sent Burt and Erma back to the parking lot to get their vehicle.

Then he turned to Aislinn. “I’m sorry to push you, but we don’t have long to get going on this. Can you meet me at the Marriage License Bureau tomorrow to get the license? Just name a time that works for you and I’ll be there.”

In spite of the panic that kept trying to claw its way along every nerve she possessed, she grinned. “Nice try.”

He looked so weary. And worried. “Aislinn—”

“No. Please. I can’t agree to anything right this minute.”

“When, then?”

“I need a few days, at least.”

“We don’t have a few days.”

“I’m sorry, Jax. I know this isn’t your fault. But it isn’t mine, either, and I need to figure a few things out. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Aislinn.” For the first time since they shook hands in the waiting room, he touched her. His long fingers closed around her arm. “Wait.” The feel of his skin on hers made her heart race.

She froze, looked down at where he held her, and then back up at him. “Let go, Jax.”

“Sorry.” He released her.

“I’ll get back to you,” she promised because she didn’t know what else to say. Whirling on her heel, she headed for her car, walking fast, half expecting him to try again to stop her.

But he didn’t come after her. She kept her gaze forward, never once looking back. She knew that if she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing there, so tall and strong and proud, in good black jeans, town boots and a crisp white shirt, she would give in and agree to do anything he needed her to do.

* * *

Keely Ostergard Bravo’s gallery, Sand & Sea, two blocks from the beach on Manzanita Avenue in Valentine Bay’s historic district, had a profitable afternoon that day.

It was August, after all. The morning fog had cleared, leaving the sky a pure, endless blue. Perfect tourist weather on the Oregon coast.

Aislinn had relieved the manager, Amanda Cruz, who went off to run errands. Aislinn spent the next few hours dealing with a steady stream of customers on her own. That was fine with her. Staying busy kept her mind off the abject awfulness of all she’d learned that morning.

Amanda came back in at four to close up. Aislinn went home to the cottage where she lived with her sisters Hailey and Harper. The two had recently graduated from OU down in Eugene.

The cottage was a family property built in the ’40s, a rambling collection of rooms, all on one level, with two baths and four bedrooms. Her ancient great-uncle Percy Valentine had given it to her as a gift for her twenty-fifth birthday with the understanding that she would welcome any siblings who needed a place to stay.

Neither of her sisters’ cars were out in front when she got there, which was good. She had this feeling that if they saw her face, they would know something was wrong and they would demand that she tell them everything. She wasn’t ready to talk about any of it—not until after she’d met with her brothers, anyway.

Before going inside, she visited Luna and Bunbun, her German angora rabbits. The pair had the run of half of her front porch, which was enclosed, rabbit-proofed and equipped with a roomy hutch they wandered in and out of at will—except on the rare occasions that she needed them caged.

Needing comfort, she got down on the porch floor with them and indulged in a long cuddle session. She buried her face in their enormous clouds of fur, lavished them with rubs and pets, all the while murmuring silly endearments.

Once she’d loved them up thoroughly, she filled their hay racks, refreshed their food and water and cleaned their litter boxes. And then, leaving them happily noshing away, she went on into the house.

It was far too quiet inside. All her fury and misery at what had happened in Astoria that morning came flooding back. She made herself a sandwich, sat at the table and cried for a while.

She really needed to talk to her best friend. Aislinn and Keely never kept secrets from each other. If Keely was here, Aislinn could get it all out, tell her friend everything.

But Keely was off on her honeymoon. Confiding in her would have to wait.

Glumly chewing her sandwich, Aislinn group-texted three of her brothers—Matthias, Connor and Liam—all of whom, so the story went, had been there in Montedoro when she was born. Daniel had been there, too. But he was with Keely in Bora Bora and Aislinn wasn’t bothering him, either. Daniel and Keely had had more than enough challenges to face in the past few months. They deserved their honeymoon in paradise, a beautiful time for just the two of them, 100 percent free of family drama.

There’s something important I really need to talk to you guys about, she texted her brothers. Beers at Beach Street Brews? Seven sharp. I’m buying.

Actually, she preferred a little bar called the Sea Breeze that Keely’s mother, Ingrid Ostergard, had bought, remodeled and reopened just a month ago, on Independence Day. But Keely’s mom would be there. And Grace, the youngest of the Bravo siblings, probably would, too. Gracie had started working for Ingrid during the Sea Breeze’s remodeling phase.

And the fewer family members around for this particular conversation, the better. Aislinn still hadn’t decided how much to tell her brothers. It was all a big mess. She was a mess.

A mess who had no idea who she really was.