by Claire Adams
She smiled at his words of wisdom. They were delivered with such charm and sweet sincerity that all she could do was beam a smile at him. Hell, even I felt a bit warm and fuzzy inside after hearing it. I knew, though, that once Mr. Patak started talking, he wouldn't stop, so I gently steered Brooke in the direction of the nearest table.
“Can we sit here, Mr. Patak?” I asked.
“Of course, of course.”
“Sorry, we're just in a bit of a rush. We're both in the same chemistry class, and we've got a lot of work to get done over the weekend.”
“I see, I see. Well, then, I won't take up any more of your time. I'll send a waiter over with some menus right now. I must get back to the kitchen anyway; we have new staff, and I have to be strict with them to make sure they get things right. You know how I… how do you say… run a tight ship?”
“That's right, Mr. Patak. And you run the best ship in town!”
“Oh, thank you, my boy, thank you! Oh, and I must tell Sanjay that you came by.”
“Yeah, please do. I was chatting with him on Facebook just the other day. Seems like he's enjoying medical school.”
“Oh, he is! And, he is doing so well! His mother and I are so proud of him. Anyway, off with me! I'll send a waiter over.” With that, Mr. Patak hurried off and shortly after a waiter arrived with menus.
“You know him pretty well, huh?” Brooke remarked.
“Yeah, like I said, I went to school with Sanjay, his son.”
“He seems like a really nice man.”
“Oh yeah, but he'll talk your ear off if you let him.”
She chuckled and I hoped that meant the walls might be coming down a bit. “I can see that,” she replied, the smile fading as quickly as it had appeared.
Back to business, it seemed.
“So, what do you recommend?” she asked. “They don't take too long to prepare the meals, do they?”
“Nah, Mr. P will get them done quickly because I just told him we're in a hurry. Um, man, there are so many great dishes here, it's kinda hard to pick a single one to recommend. I'd say the korma curry or the dhal makhani. Those are my go-to dishes. With garlic naan bread or butter naan. And maybe some samosas on the side, too. They make to-die-for samosas.”
“What's a samosa?”
I gave her a mocking shocked glare. “What?” I teased. “You don't eat Indian that often, do you?”
She allowed herself a smile. “Not too often, I confess.”
“Samosas are awesome. They're like these little pastry triangles filled with potato curry. But they’re like a hard, crispy kind of pastry. Deep-fried. I guess they're not that healthy, but as a once-in-a-while thing, they're a real treat.”
“I'm sold. Let's get some of those. And, I guess I'll go with the veggie korma. It looks pretty amazing on the menu, at least.”
“You won't be disappointed. Everything they bring to the table looks just like the pics in the menu and tastes just as good as you imagine, too.”
“Cool. Let's do it then.”
I called the waiter over and ordered our meals. I knew there would be a good twenty-minute wait before the food arrived. They were fast, but not that fast. The question running through my head was how I might pass the time if Brooke was avoiding eye contact and I was avoiding spooking her even more than I seemed to have already.
That’s when fate stepped in.
A couple around our age walked in. I didn't recognize either of them, but Brooke clearly did. Her eyes grew deer-in-headlights wide.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped.
I cocked my head to the side and looked over at her. “What is it? Everything okay?”
“No. Ben and Jess.”
“Uh, who?
She held the menu up to hide her face as they walked past us. “Did they see me?” she whispered from behind the menu.
“Umm, not that I could tell,” I replied. “They walked past without even looking. Looks like they're going to sit at a table at the back. You can come out now, they can't see you from there.”
She slowly lowered the menu and peered over the top then sighed with relief. “Whew. Thank goodness. So anyway, what about dessert? Is there anything go-”
“Whoa, hold up, hold up, missy! You can't act like you’re hiding from the cops and not tell me what that was about!” I cocked an eyebrow at her curiously and narrowed my gaze. Waiting. I halfway expected her to try to weasel her way out of explaining, but to my surprise, she obliged my request.
“That's Ben Smout and his girlfriend Jessica Avery. They were…” She stopped as if trying to get her thoughts together before she continued. “Well, that guy, Ben, he's the best friend of my ex, Andrew. I haven't seen him—Ben, I mean… Well, or Andrew—so, I haven't seen either of them since the breakup. And, I don't want to see them. Ever.”
“Oh, I see,” I said uneasily.
The waiter walked by our table just in time to keep me from having to think of something to say. Which was great because I didn’t have a clue what to say in the situation. When the waiter continued to walk away, he left us to the awkward silence.
“You know, uh,” I began, “you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. We can just forget those two are even here. Eat quick and leave quick and they won't ever see you.”
She was silent for a moment. I imagined she was struggling with whether she wanted to shut this whole thing down or not. After a few moments, she looked me dead in the eyes and did exactly the opposite of what I had expected her to do. She opened up.
“Andrew was my first love. We started dating in high school. I fell head-over-heels for him and he had me convinced he felt the same way about me. I thought—and I know this is gonna sound stupid, but it’s how I felt—I thought he was going to be the guy I married, the guy I’d spend the rest of my life with. He’s the reason I’m even here. I could've gone to a better college. I'm talking Ivy League. I could have… but I didn't. I chose to stay here, in this town, because of him. I couldn't bear the thought of being away from him for weeks at a time.”
All I could do was nod sympathetically in response. I was already certain this story wasn't going to end well. After all, she’d been hiding behind a menu.
“So, I made a big sacrifice for him, for us. I gave up my chance to attend Dartmouth so I could be with the guy I thought was my soulmate. I really thought that he was The One.”
“And then, you found out he wasn't,” I stated softly.
Tears began to well up in her eyes. The sight of her hurting gripped my heart and squeezed. “You don't have to tell me about this,” I assured her. “Seriously, if it's painful to talk about, we can talk about something else.”
“No,” she replied, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the edge of a sleeve from her sweater. “It’s okay. Les keeps telling me I need to stop avoiding it, so, this is me not avoiding it.”
I nodded. “Alright.”
“So, last year, Andrew and that guy over there, Ben, went on a fishing trip one weekend. Andrew picked up my tablet by mistake thinking it was his, which meant he left his tablet in its place. And, he left it unlocked. Normally, he was super strict about privacy and had everything protected with passwords, so that was highly unusual. I guess that fact alone should have clued me in that something was going on.”
“I see where this is going,” I murmured.
“Yeah, I'm sure you do. So, well, I kinda knew I shouldn't do it, but because he was so crazy about privacy and never let me even touch his tablet or computer or phone, I just had this burning curiosity. And there his tablet sat… all mine for the weekend. I fought with myself over it. So, I went into the settings and completely disabled the password, but then I left it for the first day. I resisted the temptation to snoop. But there was just something gnawing at me. This gut feeling. Like a knot in my stomach. The next day, after I’d had some wine, I caved. I opened it and started looking through the pictures. That’s when I found…” She paused, took a deep breath, composed he
rself a little, but tears had already began to trickle down her cheek. “I found videos.”
My forehead scrunched. “What? Like porn videos?”
“No. Well, yes. I suppose so. Videos of him.”
“Oh wow.”
“Videos of him having sex with other girls.”
“Wait. Girls? As in plural?”
She nodded. “Yes. He wasn't just cheating on me with one girl. He'd been cheating on me with at least five other girls.”
“Holy hell. Five?!”
“Five.”
“Damn. So, what did you do?”
“What could I do? I ended it. Right there and then. I packed up all of his stuff. Since I had a key, I drove to his place and hooked up the tablet to his giant TV and I left the videos he’d made playing on a loop so he'd see them as soon as he opened his front door when he got back from his fishing trip. I packed up anything of mine that was at his apartment and as I left, I dumped all of his stuff just outside of his door in a pile. I didn’t even bother to lock the door as I left. I drove straight to the maintenance office for my apartment and got my locks changed since he also had a key to my place. I told the security guy at my building not let him in. That was it.”
“You guys didn't talk after that?”
“No. He tried calling, but I wouldn’t answer. What could I say? What could he say? The evidence was there. And it was obvious it had been going on for a long time, it wasn't like it had just been a single, drunken one-night-stand or something. You know, something excusable—not that something like that is really excusable, but it would have been way more excusable than repeatedly banging a different girl every night and videoing it.”
“Yeah. That's a real scumbag thing to do.”
“Understatement of the year. Bottom line, it broke my heart and my spirit for quite a while.”
I wanted to reach across the table and take her hand, but I wasn’t sure if that might be overstepping a boundary and we were just making progress, so I decided against it. I didn't know what to do or say. The story took me a little by surprise. I’d expected him to have cheated the minute she said he’d been private about his tablet. I hadn’t expected to hear that he’d been an amateur porn star. It pissed me off. If a guy wanted to be free to sleep around, then he shouldn’t have been stringing anyone along, lying to them, putting them at risk for God knows what. The guy was a douchebag. Plain and simple. The more I thought about it, the hotter my blood boiled. Before I even realized what I’d said, the words just seemed to slip out of my mouth.
“Want me to kick his ass?”
“I appreciate the offer,” she chuckled through her tears. “But no, I don't want anyone to kick his ass. He’s not worth the effort. I just don't want to ever see him or hear from him again.”
“Well, I can’t make any promises. If I ever see him, the odds are I'm gonna kick his ass.”
Her laughter deepened. “Is that so? What if I told you he's seven feet tall and weighs four hundred pounds?”
“I'd still kick his ass… or get my ass kicked trying!”
Her mood began to lighten and the tears stopped as her laughter continued.
“Uh, is he seven feet and four hundred pounds?” I asked. “Because if he is, he'd do really well in WWE.”
She threw her head back and covered her mouth with one hand to keep from cackling. Her head shook back and forth as she composed herself. “No, he's not. Pretty far from it, actually. He's just an average guy. To be honest, I don’t know why I fell so hard for him. He's kind of an idiot, really.”
“Maybe it's because…” I paused for dramatic effect and lowered the tone of my voice. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” I exaggerated my expression and tried to maintain a straight face.
She crumpled up her napkin and threw it across the table at me. “Jerk!” she mumbled with a playful smile. “I'll show you who knows nothing!”
“Sorry, had to drop a Game of Thrones line in at some stage tonight.” The grin on my face widened. It was great to see her eyes light up with her smile. I was not a fan of seeing Brooke cry.
Our eyes locked and the chemistry erupted. If we had tried to deny the pull before, in that moment, there was no way to refute it. It was almost palpable. The waiter arrived just in time, holding a silver platter stacked with samosas. We both blinked and looked away.
“Oh, wow, so these are the famous samosas,” she said. “They'd better be as good as you've hyped them up to be or I'm gonna be highly disappointed. Maybe even pissed.”
I laughed. “Do I even look remotely worried? They’re so amazing I’ll pay for dinner if you don’t like them. I'm that confident, Brooke.”
“You’re already paying for dinner,” she joked.
“Valid point. But still, Mr. Patak knows a thing or two about putting together a quality samosa. You won’t be disappointed, I can tell ya that.”
“Well, I guess there's only one way to find out, isn't there?” she said with a smile.
We dug in, completely forgetting about the blast from Brooke’s past seated in the back of the restaurant.
Chapter Fifteen
Brooke
I had to admit I was enjoying my time with Emerson, but the memories that surfaced when Ben and Jess walked into the restaurant still held a sting of pain. Somehow, opening up to Emerson about what happened with Andrew eased that sting. I wasn’t even sure why I had been so candid with him, but once I'd started talking about it, the words gushed out. When it was all said, I'd told him everything. Everything! So much for my resolve to keep my guard up and keep my distance. This man was an enigma. One minute, I was certain he was a player and the last person I should trust with anything, the next, I felt I could pour my heart out and it would be completely safe with him.
Which is exactly what I did. Part of me was beginning to regret that.
A little.
But part of me that wasn't regretting it. A part that was actually glad I opened up. Talking about it felt good, almost liberating. Emerson had listened with such compassion that it was pretty tough not to feel even more attracted to him than I had prior to the venting session.
Normally, being more attracted to a guy because he exhibited admirable qualities wouldn’t be a bad thing. But this wasn’t a normal situation. Being attracted to Emerson was a problem because he seemed like the exact type of guy I was trying to avoid. The kind who would tell me there was nothing going on with him and Melissa, then jackhammer away at my bedroom wall with her until ungodly hours of the morning. Not to mention the other girls who came to the parties he and Chris always threw seemed to be just as into him as Melissa.
Granted, I'd seen a totally different side to Emerson on several occasions with his passion for science, his commitment to our lab work together, his interest in Game of Thrones, and his gentlemanly nature, but it was a side I'd never expected to see. It was side that was so much more decent than I'd imagined.
But the parties. The girls. His appalling friend, Chris. The drinking.
I wasn't sure what to make of any of it. Part of me wanted to confide in him, open up even more. It was obvious we had a connection of some nature. There was no denying he felt a pull to me as much as I did to him. Magnetism was the word that came to mind. Like it or not, I was drawn to him. What I wasn’t drawn to were the red flags, the warning signs that kept flashing in my face, keeping my suspicions on high alert.
How could I put my trust in a man who may very well do the same thing to me that Andrew did? I wasn’t going to put myself in a position to be betrayed again. My heart was still healing and I had no intentions of rushing the process.
I shook my head and pushed hard against my temples as I pulled myself from my thoughts and back into the moment. I took a bite of the samosa before me and groaned a little. They were actually that good.
“So, you're a samosa fan now, huh?” Emerson challenged.
I tried to talk through the mouthful of food. “They're great. I'll have to Google a recipe.”
“I've tried to make 'em. You really do have to get the right ingredients. I'm talking authentic Indian stuff.”
I’d kind of forgotten about the curry Emerson had made and brought over. He was an excellent cook. Yet another selling point in his favor. “I get what you're saying,” I acknowledged. “If you don't have the right ingredients, sometimes it just doesn't come out like it should and it ends up missing that…” I couldn’t quite think of how I wanted to explain what I meant.
“That certain something that makes the dish unique, that gives it its signature flavor or texture. Crucial elements!”
“Have you ever considered studying to be a chef?” I asked. “It seems like you're really passionate about cooking.”
“I guess I am, but I'm not quite into it enough to go to culinary school. Cooking is more of a hobby than something I would do as a profession. Science is where my heart is. That's the field I wanna be in after I graduate.”
I looked over Emerson’s shoulder as he talked and panic shot through me. Ben was walking toward us and he'd spotted me. “Shit,” I muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ben's coming this way! Shit! I don’t want to deal with this. What am I gonna do?”
“Tell me this quickly: what does Andrew do? How old is he?”
“Huh?”
“Hurry, just tell me.”
“He's, uh, he's twenty-one, and he's studying business management.”
Emerson shot me a wickedly hot grin. “Play along with me Brooke, okay? Whatever I say, just go with it.”
“What? Are you serious?”
He winked at me. “I've never been more serious in my life.”
I didn’t get a chance to respond. Ben was already at our table wearing a shit-eating grin. “Well, look who it is! Hey there, Brooke. Damn, it's been a long time, girl. How you been?”