As we make our way to a booth in the back of the restaurant, it’s impossible to block out the happy couples in love all around us. Their smiling faces make my stomach twist with jealousy and despair. By the time we are sitting, my head is throbbing in protest of the conversations and laughter filling the space. Internally, my emotions are in complete chaos, making it a struggle to maintain an appearance of composure on the outside. Focusing on my breathing, I plaster a smile on my face.
“You should call Mom,” Cat says, looking at me over the top of her menu. “She was upset about having to sing happy birthday to your voicemail.”
“I will,” I reply, my chest burning with shame. “I just haven’t really felt like celebrating today. I mean, who really wants to celebrate turning thirty?”
“Shit, you should celebrate,” Lori says, smiling. “Thirty is fabulous. I like my thirties much better than I did my twenties.”
“Right,” Cat agrees, nodding. “My twenties sucked. I like myself so much better now.”
I chuckle and shake my head. I would love to think something better is waiting for me in my thirties, but that’s kind of hard to imagine after losing my future.
“And the sex!” Lori exclaims, way too loudly. My face burns bright as my eyes scan to see if anyone heard her. “The sex is so much better! I feel like they’ve finally learned a thing or two. I do a lot less time instructing and a lot more time enjoying these days.”
“Now, that I wouldn’t know about,” Cat says, sighing. “I don’t even know if I remember what sex is like at this point.”
“Jesus! Can we keep the sex talk down in public places, Samantha and Carrie?” I hiss.
“Oh, calm down, Charlotte,” Lori replies, rolling her eyes and waving her hand as if batting me away. “No one can hear our conversation. You’d both be a lot more relaxed and happy if you got laid once in a while.”
My breath catches as my flush burns hotter, fearful the conversation is about to lead into how I should consider dating again. I know Xander’s been gone for over two years, but to me, he’s still my husband—I’m still a married woman. I can’t see myself ever having any real interest in dating again. It would feel like a betrayal to Xander.
“Oh yeah, because you’re the perfect picture of laid back and happy,” Cat retorts, twisting her mouth.
Lori flips her off and they both laugh as the waitress arrives to take our order. I order the same steak dinner they do, even though my stomach churns. I am, however, very much in need of an adult beverage and eagerly order a Wallaby Darned. The peachy champagne and vodka concoction has always been my favorite, and it’s exactly what I need to get through this dinner.
When my first drink arrives, I down it and order another, earning a sideways glance from Cat, but with alcohol streaming through my veins, my mind is clouded. It allows me the chance to enjoy myself.
“That was good, ladies. I’m stuffed,” I say, patting my belly. “Thank you for bringing me out. You were right, I needed this.”
Cat and Lori share a look, almost as if they are having some type of private unspoken conversation. Holding my breath, I pray they aren’t waiting for people to show up at our table to sing happy birthday, and a harsh exhale rushes out when they excuse themselves to the bathroom, leaving me to watch their purses. Being left at the table alone makes my heart rate spike and I start getting fidgety again.
Pulling out my phone as a distraction, I’m not at all surprised to see I have no emails or Facebook notifications. I have alienated most of my friends over the past couple years by ignoring their calls and invitations.
My head is still bent, my eyes focused on my phone, when I hear someone joining me in the booth a couple minutes later. “So, are you going to take me home now?” I ask, scrolling through Twitter.
When I don’t get a response, I lift my gaze to the other side of the booth. My eyes land on an unfamiliar face and I gasp, my heart jumping up in my throat.
“I’m ready when you are, beautiful,” the man answers, turning his smile up a notch, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. My stomach flips as his eyes roam over me, turning my confusion into unwarranted anger since I was the one who had given him a reason to look at me this way in the first place.
I wish I hadn’t taken the extra time before we left to fix my hair into loose curls and put makeup on. If only I hadn’t put on my favorite green sweater—the one that makes my eyes pop—before putting earrings on and applying perfume. But the way he’s looking at me isn’t what I’m upset about—I’m furious with the way my entire body responds to this stranger’s stare.
“I didn’t think it would be this easy, but I’ll take it,” he continues, scratching at the beard on his jaw and relaxing into the booth as if we’re old friends catching up.
My eyes snap up in irritation, locking on his, and I find myself getting lost in them for a moment. The beautiful grey coloring makes them appear as if they are shimmering, reminding me of the sun peeking through on a cloudy day.
“You won’t be getting anything from me. I can guarantee you that, buddy,” I reply, posturing myself into the back of the booth and crossing my arms. “If you’re looking for easy, you’ve come to the wrong table.”
Feeling good about my retort, I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes as I wait for him to retreat. Instead, he surprises me again by laughing. My forehead creases as I study him. Before I know it, his genuine laugh has my lips curving into a smile.
“Hey, I was just following your lead. You’re the one who asked me to take you home. I just came over here for some conversation,” he says, leaning into the table before resting his elbows on it. “I’m Brenden,” he adds with a smirk, then pauses, waiting for my response.
When I don’t offer him my name in return, he shakes his head and chuckles. “And you are?”
“Not interested,” I huff, pointing to the wedding band on my ring finger. “Now, why don’t you go bother someone else? I’m sure there are plenty of single women in here who would love to have your attention.”
“Wait—was that a compliment?” he asks, giving me the same playful smile from a moment ago. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling back this time. “Are you trying to say you find me attractive?” He goes on, cocking his eyebrow.
“Please!” I scoff, looking away to hide my real thoughts on the subject. Attractive isn’t the word. The man is gorgeous. His cappuccino coloring, dark hair, and muscular frame should come with a warning. I run my clammy hands down the material of my jeans, regaining my composure. “What part of not interested did you not understand?” When my gaze lands on him again, his eyes twinkle with delight as the corners of his mouth turn up. My heart flutters. I need him to leave. Now. Right now. “Move on,” I say, my voice almost pleading as my hands find their way to my flushed cheeks.
“I didn’t hear you say you aren’t attracted to me,” he smirks. “You’ve got to stop sending me all these mixed signals. My poor heart can’t take it.” Placing a hand over his chest, he contorts his face as if actually in pain.
“Oh. My. God!” I shout, throwing my hands up. “I’m not giving you mixed signals!”
“Sure you are. Your mouth may be saying not interested, but your body—”
“Goodbye!” I say, praying he’ll go away. All of his inappropriate flirting has my heart working overtime and my stomach doing somersaults. I don’t want to know how obvious my body’s reaction to him is, or think about the fact that he’s been studying it that closely.
“Lizzy,” Cat says as they approach the table, “who’s your friend?”
A groan of irritation escapes me as I plant my forehand into the palm of my hand. I didn’t want them to witness this, and I certainly didn’t want him to have my name. With a sigh, I lift my head to look at him. A triumphant smile lights his face as he sits back against the booth again.
Shaking my head, I blow out a huff, trying to hide the giddiness his smile makes me feel. “He was just leaving,” I say
through gritted teeth, not offering them his name.
Laughing, Brenden holds his place in the booth, his gaze on me. When he lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck, I can’t help noticing how the muscles in his arm move. A fire in my belly ignites and I inhale a sharp breath. Realizing I’m ogling him, I force myself to move my gaze back to his face.
Brenden’s lips are still quirked up into a smile, but there’s an intensity in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. My head spins, and it’s not because of the alcohol. This is the second time someone’s stare has made me feel completely un-centered.
Cat clears her throat, reminding us of their presence. Brenden turns his attention to them and I release the breath I’d been holding.
“I’m afraid she’s right. I should get back to my family. I just wanted to introduce myself to Lizzy,” he tells them, turning his attention back to me just long enough to wink before scooting to the end of the booth and standing. Cat and Lori have to tilt their heads up to keep their gazes on his face. “You see, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since I saw her the other day at the library, and I told myself if I ever saw her again, I would at least get her name.”
My heart stops as his words sink into my jumbled thoughts. I’m certain my jaw hits the table as I flounder for something to say. He looks different in a shirt and tie than he had in his leather jacket, but now that I know it’s him, I can see it. He has the same broad, intimidating frame.
He hasn’t been able to get me off his mind? What the hell does that even mean? My face flames from the thought, turning twenty different shades of red by the time Lori and Cat look down at me.
“I’m Brenden, by the way,” he says, extending his hand to Lori first.
“Lori,” she answers, turning a little red herself. “It’s very nice to meet you, Brenden.” Her voice is husky and smooth, like a groupie meeting a rock star for the first time. It’s ridiculous. I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of this.
Brenden laughs before extending his hand to Cat. “And you are?”
“Catelyn, but you can call me Cat,” she answers, fumbling over her words as she takes his hand.
“Well, it was nice meeting you ladies,” Brenden says to Cat and Lori before looking down at me. “Lizzy...I hope to see you around,” he says, a smile spread wide across his face. His eyes rake over me as I shift uncomfortably in my seat, biting my lip. He gives me a quick nod before finally leaving the table. When Cat and Lori turn their heads to watch him walk away, I can’t help joining them.
What the hell was that?
“Dude, you totally just got shot down,” Jon says out the corner of his mouth, leaning toward me as I take my seat back at the table. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl shoot you down like that,” he continues, laughing at me as he shakes his head and looks over at the woman who has my head swimming.
I wasn’t sure it was her when she first walked in. She looked different with her hair down and makeup on. Not necessarily better, just different. It more appeared like she was trying to be something she wasn’t. My eyes and thoughts remained on her throughout dinner and I found myself unable to focus on anything else.
I watched her fidget, flipping between playing with the small gems in her ears and twisting her wedding ring with her thumb, her eyes darting around the restaurant without ever taking any of it in. Even after downing her drinks in record time, her smiles had been forced, her laugh flat and half-hearted. Seeing it made my chest tighten, and in that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to make her genuinely smile—which is exactly what I’d set out to do when I walked over to her table.
I’ve never felt drawn to a woman the way I do Lizzy and it’s throwing me for a loop. I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind last night and even decided not to go home with Angela because of it. When I realized she was here tonight, I knew I had to talk to her—I had to figure out this pull I feel toward her.
“No, I didn’t,” I grit out, pushing him farther away with my elbow. “I wasn’t hitting on her.”
At least, that hadn’t been my intention, but she’s so damn beautiful. Her pale skin is the perfect contrast to her dark hair and emerald eyes, and the tight sweater she’s wearing highlights her curves in the most exquisite way. I hadn’t been able to stop devouring her with my eyes the entire time we were talking.
“Dude, you’re so full of shit!” Jon replies, one side of his mouth twisting into a condescending smirk. “You don’t think I noticed you staring at her all damn night? Come on, man, I saw you over there trying to work her. Looks like your charm doesn’t work on everyone.”
“Fuck off,” I say through gritted teeth while narrowing my eyes at him. After scooting farther away, he scoffs and rolls his eyes.
I don’t want to admit it, even to myself, but he’s right. Like an asshole, I’d been hitting on her, wedding ring and all. Coming on to married women isn’t something I normally do, but I saw the interest in her eyes as they roamed over me, and it had only heightened my own. Each time her cheeks flushed and her breathing became heavier, I felt like the damn king of the world.
“What are you boys talking about over there?” Jon’s mother, Patricia, asks before pressing her lips together.
“Nothing,” we answer in unison, both straightening in our seats, taking on a more childlike role around his parents. It never fails.
“I know what that means,” his father, John, chimes in with his thick southern accent. “They must’ve been talking about girls.” He chuckles.
Jon and I exchange a look and shake of our heads. We’re thirty-three years old for Pete’s sake. It’s been a very long time since we sat around talking about girls.
“Well, whatever you were talking about,” Patricia continues, wagging her finger at us, “it’s rude to have a private conversation at the dinner table.”
“Sorry,” we reply in unison again.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Jon’s parents—they were quite literally lifesavers for me—but it’s odd being parented as a grown man when I was never parented as a child.
“Brenden, are you all right, dear?” Patricia asks, her forehead creasing as she leans inward. “You’ve been so quiet all evening and seem so distracted.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Alder.”
“If you refuse to call me mom, please at least call me Patricia,” she interjects.
Smiling, I nod at her request. I never could bring myself to call her mom or Patricia. Mom is too personal, too endearing, and it only reminds me of things I didn’t have. On the other hand, Patricia seems disrespectful.
“I’ve been really wrapped up in work lately,” I explain, rubbing my temple. “I recently found out they need me to take on another school because their current counselor is going on leave. I’ve been reviewing some of the case files they sent me and I’m a little nervous about a few of them.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle whatever comes your way—you always have. I think it’s so wonderful you chose to go into counseling. I am so dang proud of you!” she exclaims, her smile causing her blue eyes to shine. “You’ve really become an exceptional young man.”
“Thank you, Mrs.—thank you, Patricia. That means a lot coming from you,” I say, returning her smile, but averting my eyes, unable to hold her gaze without feeling emotional.
Patricia means a lot to me, as does the fact that she treats me like her son. I can’t even imagine how different my life might have been if I’d had a mother like her instead of the absent alcoholic, but I believe sometimes we must go through the bad to get to the good. Our scars, the physical and emotional ones, can be a road map leading us to our destiny. If my life had been easier growing up, I might not have chosen a career helping kids, and I love what I do.
Patricia reaches across the table for my hand and squeezes it. I bring my eyes back to her and she regards me with a tilt of her head, her eyes softening. When emotion bubbles up inside me, I’m thankful she knows me well enough to kn
ow it’s time to move on. Quickly releasing my hand, she turns her attention to Jon.
“Now, Jon,” she starts, placing her elbow on the table before resting her chin on her hand, “let’s talk about when you are going to settle down and give me some grandbabies. You two can’t live like bachelors forever.”
Jon moans and looks to me for help, but I just laugh while she continues. He should just tell her the truth. His mother would be thrilled to know he’s in love with Allison. I’ve known Allison Santos for as long as I’ve known Jon, and the two of them have been inseparable since they were five. Jon had already professed his undying love and intentions to marry her by the time they were seven. His parents adore her; Patricia already considers her family.
It’s Jon’s fear that keeps him from being with her. He says he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship by trying to make their relationship into something it isn’t, but what he doesn’t realize is Allison is in love with him too. I wish they’d get over their hang ups and just be together already. I’m sure sick of being stuck in the middle all the time.
As I watch Jon squirm from his mother’s interrogation, a strange feeling falls over me. Looking up, I find the source: a pair of green eyes glued on me. My lips curve into a smile as my eyes lock with hers. Lizzy’s eyes widen at the realization that she’s been caught, her cheeks turning a bright red as she bites down on her bottom lip. When her gaze falls to the floor and her pace toward the exit quickens, I have to fight the same pull I felt as I watched her walk away the day before.
Memorable Coffee
“Just enjoy the free time, I want to hang with the kids all day. Consider it my birthday gift to you, if you want,” Cat says before sighing into the phone. Holding it up to my ear with my shoulder, I dig in my bag for my wallet. There’s only one person in front of me, so I don’t have time to argue with her.
“Okay, if you’re sure. Just don’t give them too much sugar and junk food.”
In This Moment (In This Moment #1) Page 3