A new project at work had left me blissfully busy and was almost enough to distract me from constantly thinking about Braydon. But now it was the weekend and my sorry ass couldn’t stop picturing his pretty blue eyes and messy dark hair or remembering the way his strong arms felt around me. That was why his text on Saturday afternoon totally took me by surprise. It was like he’d somehow known I was sitting here, pining for him.
Braydon: Hiya kitten
Me: Hello
Braydon: I miss you.
Me: Me too.
Braydon: I hate how we left things.
Me: I know.
Braydon: I get that our arrangement didn’t work for you, but the worst part is, I feel like I lost a friend.
It was true, I felt the exact same way. I missed having him in my life. And stalking his photo shoots online wasn’t enough. I had no clue what to say. He knew how I felt. He’d either reciprocate or he wouldn’t.
Braydon: I was wondering if you’d meet me for coffee?
Wow. I had to reread the text twice. He’d never asked me for coffee before.
Me: Sure. That’d be nice. 😉
Braydon: Cool. You free now?
Interesting. Braydon Kincaid missed me and wanted to see me in a casual setting. Progress? My day was suddenly looking up. It was crazy how a bit of attention from this man could change my entire outlook. I was addicted to him.
He suggested a little café that he said was quiet and out of the way, about halfway between his place and mine. I still didn’t know where he lived, but now I supposed I had a clue.
An hour later we were seated at a small round table with steaming mugs of coffee in front of us, an awkward silence big enough to fill a stadium settling between us. I didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know where to look.
“So . . . we’re out . . .” I raised my eyebrows, glancing around the room.
While we were out in public, Braydon was right, this coffee shop was a hole in the wall, a teeny tiny place tucked between a couple of office buildings. In fact, there was only one other patron inside. Suddenly I was seeing our first outing with new eyes. And I wasn’t happy.
I set down my coffee and planted my elbows on the table. “Listen, I get that you’re embarrassed to be seen with me. I know I’m no supermodel, but shit, this is kind of a blow to the ego.”
Braydon leaned forward. “No, that’s not it at all. It’s complicated.”
I waited for him to say more, but he remained utterly silent. “Okay. Bye.” I stood and grabbed my purse from the back of the chair. Complicated, my ass. I wasn’t going to sit here in this dump and pretend it was a date any more than I was going to pretend a polished turd was a Tootsie Roll.
“Ellie, wait.” He rose and clutched my hand, preventing my escape. “I’m sorry. Listen, I’ll explain it.”
He guided me back to my seat and I sat, but I kept my purse clutched in my lap.
“Shit, where do I start?” He rubbed a hand through his disheveled hair.
I bit my lip, waiting.
“There was this girl . . .”
Ah, it always started off with a girl. I hated that someone who had come before me had messed with his head so badly, but I suspended judgment and just listened. He was finally talking and opening up. Maybe this was a start.
“We dated for a while and things were fine. But once it was over, she turned ultraclingy and crazy. She began stalking me. She’d show up everywhere, at my work, my apartment, you name it. Calling nonstop, crying, begging for me back. It got really out of hand and it actually got so bad, I had to get a restraining order against her.”
“Wow.”
“I wrecked my last girlfriend. She went on antidepressants, suicide watch, and had to move back in with her parents.”
That was not what I was expecting. I continued listening while our coffee grew cold as he told me the whole sordid tale.
“It’s been really hard for me to date because she would follow me. And as far as pictures with women I was seeing, I tried to limit them so that she wouldn’t target them. She would look them up online and start harassing them, too, trying to get information about me.”
“Well, that’s either the most elaborate story for ensuring you stay single or your ex is one crazy bitch,” I said, finally.
“It’s not a story. I wish it was. As much as it might surprise you, I like being in a relationship. I like having a girlfriend, cooking together, cuddling in bed all day, watching movies. I’m a regular guy, not some commitment-phobic asshole, I swear.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I believed him. But that didn’t mean his past sat well with me. We talked for a few minutes more, but I feared we were at some kind of impasse. With Braydon unwilling or unable to move forward, and me insisting that I needed all or nothing, I worried about what this all meant.
As much as I’d appreciated finally hearing the truth from him, it hadn’t changed where we stood. He might have clued me in about what was going on, but he hadn’t opened up his life or asked me to be part of it.
We parted ways in the street with a friendly hug and then he was gone, leaving me wondering about how we were leaving things. Again.
