Warren laughs, shaking his head disbelievingly. “Okay, buddy.”
I feel bad for the guy, I do. But not that bad. “Addison and I are dating. And I get that you’ve come back here for her. I’m guessing you’re a medical miracle, right?” I rush forward, not letting him answer. “And I’m happy for you. I’m sure you’re a celebrity in the field of science.”
“I woke up thinking I had a fiancée,” he hisses, stabbing a finger at the ground.
“It’s a shitty situation. And we’re all in it, not just you. You could’ve called Addison, but you didn’t. You came here because you knew what it would do to her to see you. You hoped that would work in your favor. You preyed on her kind nature.”
His chest puffs up, but his shirt hangs off him and it doesn’t have the intended effect. It’s not his fault. What happened to this guy was awful.
“She’s my fiancée. Mine.” He smacks his chest to emphasize the word. “And I’m not above using any advantages I may have.”
I stand, tossing my paper onto the seat. “Have you asked Addison what she wants? Or did you just use her guilt to coerce her?”
If Warren responds, I don’t hear it. I don’t get more than a few feet away when I see Finn standing nearby, bags of takeout dangling from his hands.
“The ex?” he asks, giving Warren a hard stare over my shoulder. That’s what best friends do. They’re on your side when they don’t even know who they’re opposing.
I nod, reaching the place where Finn stood watching. We head to the elevator.
“I feel for him. His situation is shit.” Reaching out, I press the button for our floor. The doors open, and we step on. When nobody else gets on and the doors close, I look at Finn. “But I wish he hadn’t woken up. That’s awful, isn’t it? What a terrible thought.” I glance up at the ceiling of the elevator, decorated in metallic swirls.
“It doesn’t make you a bad person, Brady. It makes you human.”
“Since when have I wished ill on someone? Is this what love does? Makes you capable of things you’re otherwise unable to fathom?”
“Yes,” Finn answers, and the hard way he says it makes me stare at him, but he doesn’t look at me. “Do you want to mix a sleeping pill into his drink and put him on a train to Chicago?”
I chuckle. “Something like that.”
The elevator stops on our floor, the doors open and Finn steps off first, pausing to look back at me. “It’s okay to love someone so much you’d do anything for them.”
The doors begin to close but Finn’s foot shoots out, halting them. They slide open again and I step off.
“I’m glad she has you.” I clap him on the back.
I mean it. Lennon has someone who loves her so much he’d do anything for her.
And so does Addison.
In fact, it sounds like she may have two.
27
Addison
I knew letting Warren stay for dinner last night was a bad idea. But what was I supposed to do? He stood there on my doorstep, his expression as optimistic as a dog when its owner reaches for its leash. And he brought flowers. My favorite, of course, because he woke up in love with me, still remembering my preference for roses even if they are cliché. He’d told his sister to eat alone, and come out to Sweet Escape.
I spent the day alternating between calling Brady and busying myself. Call Brady, go for a run. Call Brady, check the amphitheater because what if he’s there? Call Brady, make lunch. Call Brady, take a nap as restless as my sleep the night before it. He hasn’t answered yet. Soon I’ll have to resort to text messages to get my side heard. I’d rather be face to face, but beggars can’t be choosers. He needs to let me explain what he thinks he saw.
Warren called late-afternoon, asking me to come to his hotel so we could talk. I agreed quickly, ready to tell him about Brady. Hurting Warren’s feelings is inevitable, and the longer I allow him to hope, the worse off he will be.
I arrive at the hotel, breathless from running in the rain. The sky opened up as soon as I parked. Thankfully I saw the angry gray sky before I left Sweet Escape and pulled the top up on the Jeep.
I push the hood of my raincoat off my head and shrug it down over my shoulders, hanging it on the coat rack just inside the doors. Repositioning my purse, I look around for Warren. I don’t see him, but Shannon catches my eye. She’s leaning against a pillar, watching me.
I grumble to myself as I make my way over to her. Why wouldn’t she just call out to me when she saw me looking around?
“Warren’s this way,” she says as I approach, glancing around the lobby. She pivots and beckons me with a hand.
My eyes narrow. What’s with the cloak and dagger behavior?
She leads me into one of the hotel’s restaurants. It’s an upscale place, white linen napkins folded smartly and real china. My jean shorts and damp t-shirt are hardly appropriate attire. Ahead of Shannon, I spot Warren’s figure, seated at a table by the glass wall, in full view of half the lobby. It’s an odd choice of table. Especially when so many others are available.
Not that it matters. We don’t need privacy. Or maybe we do. I’m not sure how this conversation is going to go.
“I see him, Shannon. Thanks.” Beat it, you mean person.
“Addison, hi.” Warren stands as I approach. He brushes a kiss onto my cheek. “You look lovely.”
“Warren, I thought you wanted to talk?” I take in his slacks, his collared shirt and dress shoes.
“I do.” He gestures at the table. “Can we eat dinner and talk at the same time?”
I sit without answering, letting the action do the speaking for me. And then I see the table. Pictures of us, printed to look like Polaroids, in various spots around the table, and all pointed in my direction.
I lift up the one of us at the beach on Lake Michigan, studying it. Warren had wrapped his arms around my middle, lifting me. My head is thrown back in laughter. One of his friends snapped the photo.
Around the table, there we are, little pieces of evidence to prove Warren’s case. He’s fighting so damn hard.
A short candle sits in the center of the table, its flame flickering over the plains of Warren’s face. The restaurant lights are turned down low, juxtaposed with the brighter lights of the lobby on the other side of the wall. I feel like an animal on display.
“Do you remember that day?” Warren lightly touches the top of the photo I’m holding.
“Of course.” I haven’t forgotten any of our days.
A server comes to take our drink order. Warren orders a bottle of wine, one he knows I like. Another piece of evidence. See how I remember what you like to drink?
He watches me, silent, as I piece through the other pictures, like taking a shovel to our past. Only right now, I don’t have to dig; everything sits on the surface, ready and waiting to be reclaimed.
The server comes back, brandishing the bottle and presenting it to Warren. He waves his hand, expediting the presentation. The server pours my glass, then Warren’s.
I take a big drink, an attempt to calm my nerves. I came here to tell Warren about Brady.
Warren reaches across the table, his fingers curling over the top of the palm I’ve flattened against the starched tablecloth.
“Addison, I—”
I shake my head. “Warren, please. I need to tell you something.” The heat of his fingers burns into my skin as he brushes them back and forth across my palm. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I know you said that these past ten months are a black hole for our relationship, that all is forgiven and forgotten. But I have to tell you about someone.”
“I met Brady today.”
My head flies back as if slapped. “Where?”
Warren glances out to a cluster of chairs off to the side of the lobby, then back to me. “Here. He was reading a paper. I sat down nearby, not knowing who he was. Somehow, he knew who I was. He introduced himself to me.”
I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to wrap my brain around what Warr
en’s saying. Questions scurry through my mind, but they aren’t the kind I can ask him. How was Brady? Did he look okay?
“What else?” I ask, forcing myself to look across the table.
“He told me he understood the predicament we’re in, and that he doesn’t want to get in the way of two people who belong together. He said he’d bow out.”
“Oh,” I whisper, my hand coming up to touch my throat, sliding down over my collarbone. I don’t know why I’m touching myself, other than to check that this is really happening. I’m really here, learning that Brady gallantly gave me up because he thought he was doing what was best for me.
My lower lip quivers and I bite the skin on the inside, trying to still the quaking. I need something to do with my hands, so I take another big drink.
“Addy love?”
I turn away from Warren, needing to get my bearings before giving him my full attention. I look out into the lobby, toward the people standing at the front desk, and at Brady.
Brady!
He’s staring at us. His cheeks grow taut and his eyes look pained as he takes in the scene before him. We lock eyes, and I reach out, my hand bumping into the glass wall. Brady rips his gaze from me and stuffs his hands in his jacket, heading for the front door.
“Brady, no,” I yell, pushing away from the table. Dimly I’m aware of the teetering wine glasses.
I hear my name behind me as I hurry from the restaurant, stopping at the spot where Brady stood and looking for him. I glance right and see Warren, still seated at our table. The pain in his eyes is so similar to Brady’s. No matter what I do, someone is hurting.
I can’t deal with Warren right now, I have to find Brady. He might be willing to bow out, but I’m not willing to let him.
Grabbing my jacket from the coat hook, I thread my arms through, pull my hood over my head, and hurry out into the driving rain.
“A man just came through here,” I yell to the valet who stands beneath an awning. “Which way did he go?”
He points right, and I head that way, instinctively ducking my head to keep the rain from pelting my face, but I give up quickly when I realize I can’t see.
Come on, Brady, where are you?
I look into shops as I pass them, but come up empty. Finally I see him, only a short distance away, seeking refuge under the purple awning of a coffee shop.
“Brady,” I yell, waving my arm. He looks at me, and I see the yearning, the love, the hurt. Is that the face of a man who has decided to bow out?
He waits for me, his eyes on me until I’m standing beside him.
He’s quiet, expectant, and now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say. Getting to the point is probably best.
“What you saw in the market wasn’t what it seemed.”
Brady’s mouth forms a thin line. “And that romantic dinner for two back there?” He points behind me. “Was that also not what it seemed?”
“No!”
He shakes his head and looks away. “I don’t like being lied to, Addison.”
“You’re not being lied to. Warren asked me to come to the hotel and talk. I was going to tell him about you. He said he doesn’t care what I was doing while he was out, but he doesn’t know that you’re not just some guy keeping my sheets warm. He doesn’t know I’m in love with you.”
“Do you still love him?”
I hate that I have to think about the answer, but I’m not about to lie to Brady. I open up my mouth to tell him everything I’m feeling, everything I’m confused about, but the despair on Brady’s face stops me. To him, my delayed response has answered his question.
His shoulders hunch forward, his hands tuck into his pockets. “I’m not interested in another love triangle, Addison. Been there, done that. Good luck at the baking competition tomorrow.” He replaces his hood on his head and runs out into the rain.
“I choose you, Brady. I choose you!” But he’s too far away to hear me, the rain acting like a soundproof wall.
I walk back through the rain, and this time my chin falls all the way to my chest.
When I reach the hotel, I don’t go inside. I hand my ticket to the valet, and he runs to retrieve my car. I climb in, my soggy shorts and jacket squishing on the seat. I pause before I shift into drive, tipping my head back against the seat and taking a deep breath.
My eyes shoot open in alarm at the sound of my door opening. I watch, shocked, as a girl climbs into my passenger seat.
“I’m not a driver, I’m sorry. I think you got into the wrong car.” I have very little patience or apology for the confused woman.
She looks at me, and although her brown hair is damp from the rain, I know that I’ve seen her somewhere.
“Are you Addison?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.
I nod, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“Then I’m in the right car.” She sticks her hand into the space between us. “I’m Lennon.”
“Oh shit,” is all I can think to say.
She laughs. “Oh shit is a pretty good response considering what’s happening in your life right now.”
A waving arm outside the car catches my eye. It’s the valet and he’s pointing at a car behind me. I put the Jeep in drive and pull away from the curb. A block away, I find an open space and park.
Turning to Lennon, I say, “You have to know that I love Brady. I didn’t know my ex was going to show up here. He was in a coma. For ten months! I’d moved on. And then he shows up, telling me that he’s going to fight for us, even if I am seeing somebody else.” Lennon waits patiently for me to continue. “He just needs to understand that I’m in love with Brady, that I’ve moved on and I can’t go back.”
Lennon runs a hand over her tiny baby bump as she listens to me. I’m not sure she’s even aware she’s doing it.
“Does Brady know all this?”
“I just saw him.” I look down at my soaked clothes. “It’s why I look like I swam in a pool fully clothed. I chased him down in the rain. He asked me if I still love Warren and—”
Lennon holds up a hand. “Please tell me you said no.”
“I couldn’t lie to him. I do still love Warren. I love that he’s a good person, and that he came here to find me, and I’m so fucking sorry for the situation we’re in right now. But I’m not in love with Warren, not anymore. And Brady wouldn’t let me say that. He ran into the rain and disappeared the moment I tried to explain.”
Lennon moves her head slowly from side to side. “Brady is a little, uh” —her lips twist as she searches for the word— “sensitive to having competition for another person’s love. At least he is right now.” A blush warms her cheeks. “That would be my fault. I’m sorry you have to deal with the baggage I created.”
I nod. “He said as much.”
Lennon eyes me. “You love Brady?”
My chest rises and falls with my deep breath. Thoughts of Brady roll through me. “I love him like crazy, with this weird feeling in my chest where it feels like the contents are greater than the outside. Somehow, I love him more than I loved Warren, even though we haven’t known each other very long. I guess when you know, you know.”
Lennon’s eyebrows raise. “Weren’t you engaged to Warren?”
“Yes. And I was in love with him. But the person who was in love with Warren wasn’t a person who watched her fiancé fall into a coma, who walked through grief and learned to rely on herself. I’m different now, and it’s a different person who loves Brady. He thinks there’s a competition and he’s refusing to be a part of it, because he’s scared he won’t be chosen.” The heel of my palm smacks the steering wheel in my frustration. “But there is no competition. And he won’t listen long enough to let me tell him that.”
“Brady needs to feel chosen. Warren’s arrival really threw him.”
I groan, running a hand over my eyes. “Speaking of competitions, I’m in one tomorrow. A legitimate competition. And the prize is a bakery.”
Lennon raises her eyebrows.
“Let me know if they want help judging.”
Despite the somber air in the car, I chuckle. “Will do.”
I back out of the space and turn around in the middle of the street. The rain has let up, but she’s pregnant and I’m not going to make her walk. When I pull up to the front of the hotel, Lennon grins.
“I like you, Addison.”
She reaches over, hugging me in this small space.
“I was a little jealous of you when Brady told me about everything,” I admit. “He loved you first.”
Lennon snorts. “Believe me, he loves you way more than he loved me. It’s so flipping obvious.”
Her words bring me peace in an otherwise war-torn day.
She gets out of the car, waving at me before disappearing into the hotel. The same one where Warren and his snake of a sister are staying. And Brady, too?
I feel just a tiny bit better on my drive back to Sweet Escape. Nothing has changed, not really, and yet everything has. Lennon being on my side means Brady could perhaps listen to me. I just might have a shot.
Grandma eyes my wet clothes when I walk in the door, but I shake my head and tell her not to ask. In the upstairs bathroom, I undress and step under the hot spray of the shower.
Tonight, I need good sleep. Yes, my life is in turmoil.
But I’m a damn good baker, and tomorrow is my chance to prove it.
28
Brady
“Brady Sterling, you’re a fool.”
Lennon sits cross-legged on the couch in her and Finn’s hotel room.
“Is this one of those super-emotional pregnancy outbursts?” The door swings shut behind me with a loud thud and I step cautiously into the room. “I already apologized for forgetting your Chinese food last night.”
Lennon frowns. “That’s not what this is about. And don’t worry, because that place delivers.” She scoots over and pats the space beside her. “Come on. It’s time we had a heart to heart.”
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