Cal Calls Again
Is Bryony Root-Bound?
Cal’s Date Sizzles & Fizzles
Bryony Wilts
Cal Persists
Bryony’s Past is Not Her Future
“Cal Come Home”
Bryony’s Peace Pie
Cal Pushes Principle
No Charity for Bryony: Part II
Cal Tries to Help
Bryony’s Companion Plants
Cal’s Clash
Bry Backs Off to Bake
Cal Calls for Help
Bry Falls for Cal’s Kitchen
A Nurse for Cal
Bryony’s Millionaire Pie
Cal Makes a Call
A Mouthful of Pie Chart
Cal Chooses
Charity for Bryony
Cal Chooses, Again
Bryony’s Devastating Mistake
Cal Chooses Wisely This Time
Six Months Later
Author Biography
BRYONY GREEN, ON VACAY
A shadow fell over Bryony’s face. She opened her eyes.
“Hey.” Nathan stood over her.
“Hey,” Bryony said back, her gaze traveling up the tanning-bed-shaded legs to the bottom of his blue cotton shorts.
Why are men’s legs still shapely and sinewy after their bellies have a middle-aged bulge?
“Sorry about this morning,” Nathan said. “Forgive me?” Sunlight framed his salt and pepper curls with a halo glow.
“It was a silly argument.” Midway through brunch, he’d blamed her again for his weight gain. Tired of hearing it, Bryony had pushed back, softly. Nobody had forced her desserts down his throat. He knew how to excuse himself from the table.
“I signed up for another snorkeling class,” he said.
“What time?” she asked.
“It starts in half an hour.”
Bryony sat up and brushed sand from the edge of her towel. “I wish you’d said something sooner.” She grabbed her floppy flowered hat, sunblock, phone, and paperback.
He squatted and put his hand on her arm. “I meant for me. I didn’t sign up for both of us.”
“Why not?”
“You swim like a fish, Bryony.” Straight white teeth flashed. His cheeks and chin were smooth. “Give me a chance to catch up?”
When had he shaved? As soon as they de-boarded, he’d announced plans to grow a beard. Maybe he’d finally heard her one quiet lament about how short whiskers abraded her face.
“I guess so,” Bryony said. “But I love to snorkel.”
Yesterday had been a dream for her. While the busty blonde instructor worked with Nathan to ease his anxiety about breathing under water, Bryony explored nearby. The underwater world provided a surprising new way to experience Earth’s unending variety of gardens. Floating through a sea of blue, while taking in so many shades of fuchsia, green, turquoise, and chartreuse, surrounded at one point by a school of bright orange fish—heaven.
“Stay on the beach.” Nathan stood. “We’ll hook up for dinner later.” He walked backward, saying, “Thanks for the vacay, Bry. This is fun!” And turned to jog toward the hotel.
Bryony watched until he disappeared between the potted palms lining the patio area behind their high-rise accommodations.
“Vacay?” she asked herself aloud, since no one else could hear or would bother to listen if they could. Clearly Nathan had not read the brochure. A “vacay” returned one to the same-old-same-old. Their two-week Florida “Romantic Gestures” package was supposed to infuse passion into a floundering six-year relationship.
Dropping the lotion, book, and phone into her hat, Bryony plopped the bundle onto the corner of the towel, muttering, “Brother!”
A gull landed on the sand a few feet away and opened its beak to call out.
