I nod. He’s right.
THIRTEEN
How can you be heartbroken over someone you didn’t fully love? My chest has ached since I left Nathan standing in his room last weekend. A hole in my soul has formed. I’m not in love with him, yet I feel like I have been for years. I ditched last week’s girls’ night to indulge in cookie dough ice cream and binge watch The Office instead of reading. The last thing I want to do is read about love and romance when it seems my life enjoys poking fun at me with it.
I haven’t heard from Nathan, not that I truly expected to. I made my point clear. He hurt me by not trusting me. I think what hurts the most is I never gave him a reason to think I was interested in anything but him, yet he didn’t give me a chance to try. Instead, he hid everything, which I do kind of understand, but he still omitted so much.
Although Shyla and Aimee allowed me to skip out on dinner last week, they’re not letting me tonight. It’s a mandatory girls’ night and if I don’t show, they’ll be banging down my door.
They’re already at our table when I arrive, five fashionable minutes late.
Shyla’s gaze cruises over my body from head to toe. “Loving the outfit. I’m glad to see you’re out of the funk.”
Fake it until I make it, right? I chose black skinny jeans for my mood, a red wine blouse for power to face my evening, and black open toed heels to lift my self-esteem. See? I’m pitiful. Heartbroken over a man I never fully loved.
Aimee moves a full glass of wine in front of me. “Ordered your drink and since we need you to get over this, I ordered your favorite—mushroom and Swiss marinated chicken with a side of disco fries.”
“Are you looking for me to gain twenty pounds?” I snort and then take a slow pull of the cold wine.
“We just know you need it,” Aimee says with an apologetic smile.
“I’m fine. It’s just…it’s weird,” I tell them.
Shyla places her hand on top of mine and squeezes. “You had high hopes. You liked him a lot and gave him an insight into your heart. The way you’re feeling is justified.”
Tears burn the back of my throat but I refuse to cry. I haven’t since that night and I’m not going to now. “I’d like to change the subject, please.”
Aimee claps and scoots up to the table. “William is going out of town tomorrow and coming back Saturday. He has already said he wants to talk to me when he gets back.” She air quotes the work talk. “I think this is it, ladies.”
“Where’s he going?” I ask.
“New York.” She whispers her squeal. “We all know how many Tiffanys are there.”
Jodyne—our waitress, who has been waiting on us for years and has become a special person in our lives—sets our food on the table. “Missed you last week, Brooklyn,” she warms me with a smile. “Hope everything is okay. The girls filled me in. You don’t need a man like him. You’re too precious for that.” She winks. “Enjoy, ladies.”
I glare at my “friends.” “Seriously?”
Aimee lifts a shoulder. “She’s like a grandmother. I couldn’t lie.”
Exhaling, I switch back to the subject. “Why Tiffany? Surely he knows you’d be happy with a ring from the quarter machine.”
“He knows, but about a year ago, he asked me specifically about a certain ring at Tiffany. Of course, I argued with him after looking at the price and he never brought it up again.”
I hate my sour mood. Nathan is suffocating my happiness for my best friend. I grin. “When he gets back, I demand pictures.”
“You two will be the first I call.”
Aimee did well ordering my favorite meal. Oddly, it comforted me and I enjoyed every single bite. I take my last sip of wine when the sight of the very man who has my head in shambles steps in with a beautiful brunette. My shattered heart that’s already hanging on by a thread falls into the pit of my stomach.
“Shit.” I hiss, ducking my head, which causes the girls to look around.
“Is that? Oh, shit.” Shyla swats Aimee’s arm to get her attention. “It’s Mr. sexy as hell Bennett himself.”
“God, he’s swoon worthy,” Aimee adds.
“Ugh!” I whisper hiss. “Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell is he doing here?” I keep my head down with my hands hiding my face.
“I don’t know, but you better get your shit together. They’re headed this way and he’s locked onto you,” Shyla informs me.
Shit! What do I do? I’m sure I look ridiculous hiding and ducking away. Stealthily, I grab my purse and pull it onto my lap, pretending to scrounge through it.
“Brooklyn?” His velvety voice warms the ache in my chest even if it has amusement in it. Shit. He knows I was trying to hide from him.
My head snaps up. “Nathan! Heeeey…” I draw out, faking my surprise. “What in the world brings you to my side of town?”
He looks to the bitch in a pants suit beside him. Professional beautiful bitch. She probably is only with him for the money. He doesn’t deserve her.
“My sister is in for the night and she’s always loved this place. Claire, this is Brooklyn.”
My face falls, the fake smile I was biting slides down my cheek. The bitch I wanted to stab is his sister. Great. “Hey. Nice to meet you,” I say in the friendliest tone I can conjure up.
“You too,” she says reserved.
Nathan’s intense stare bores into me. “It’s good to see you, Brooklyn.”
“Yeah. You too.” I mean it but hate it.
All eyes swing to me when he walks away, guiding his sister to the table. I grab Shyla’s water and gulp down half of it.
“I can’t believe you got to kiss that man,” Aimee swoons. “He’s a god. Lucky bitch.”
Humorlessly, I blow a breath. “And twenty minutes later, I found out it was all under false pretenses.”
Shyla leans her elbows on the table and closer to me. “Do you blame him?”
“No. I don’t,” I shake my head. “But regardless, it hurts. Badly. I thought he was on the same page as I was. Liked me just as much as I liked him,” I reproach with a shake in my voice. “I never came across as someone who would use him. Never.” I slam my finger onto the table, anger filling me again. “I’m sure he deals with a lot of those, but I’d like to pride myself in being different. I’m independent. I have dignity. I have morals. He only proved he had no desire to become as invested in me as I was him. He led me on. A man finally catches my attention, gives me flutters, and then he doesn’t trust me.” I inhale a calming breath before I go full Hulk mode and flip over the tables. “I’m totally the most trustworthy person in this crazy city.”
“I agree,” Aimee says.
Shyla shoots her a look. “I agree too, but how would he know it?”
Daggers shoot out of my eyes. “I thought I gave him reasons to trust me.”
Jodyne stops at the table. She’s in her sixties and I can only hope I look as good as she does when I get there. She’s such a beautiful woman with hazel eyes that pierce you, light brown hair with grays glistening it. The only real wrinkles she has are the ones I call happy wrinkles—around the mouth and crow’s feet at the eyes. You only get those from smiling too much. She’s definitely the grandmother I wish I had.