“Oh, let me check.” I searched through my purse for a moment, and he tapped me on the arm. I glanced up. “Yeah?”
“You didn’t ask why I need a Band-Aid.”
“Okay, why do you need a Band-Aid?”
“Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.”
I laughed and punched him on the shoulder. “Getting a little better. That one almost made me blush.”
“No, seriously.” The smile on his face dropped as all traces of humor and joking around left his expression. He was quiet for a few moments, glancing down at the table, appearing to contemplate his next words. It seemed as though he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should.
It was such a change my heart stuttered.
“Is everything okay?”
He looked me straight in the eye. “When I saw you at Rooster’s that day, I thought there was something different about you. It took every bit of professional integrity I had not to ask you out. You were so cute with your anti-drug quips, and I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but when you’re nervous, you have this habit of blinking your eyes real fast.”
“Yeah, I do that sometimes,” I said flushing.
“It’s rather adorable, almost like you’re batting your eyelashes.”
“Okay, now I’m embarrassed,” I said, glancing away.
“Don’t be. I’m not finished.” He put a finger underneath my chin and turned my head to face him. “After you left Rooster’s, I felt like a fool for not running after you.”
My eyes widened at the sincerity in his expression.
“I would have never guessed you felt that way. You seemed annoyed when I showed up for dinner at Ethan and Emily’s.”
He snickered. “At first I was annoyed. Emily kept throwing all these women at me, and I hate set-ups. But it didn’t take long for it to sink in that I had a second chance to get to know you. By the time we finished dinner, I knew I was interested. I had the sense God brought us together again for a reason.”
My eyelashes blinked rapidly, perhaps because he’d reminded me of the tic or maybe because what he said had really gotten to me. “I take that back. You can deliver a line that’s not lame or cheesy. That was very sweet.”
“I meant it.” Bronson glanced away, and his eyes caught on someone across the room. “Oh, shoot.” He ducked down in his seat and turned his face to the side in a grimace as if he’d just eaten something sour.
“What’s wrong?”
An attractive woman with shoulder length red hair and movie star sunglasses sidled up to the table before he could reply. She wore a satiny blue dress and black heels a mile high, appearing like she’d dressed for a night out on the town instead of breakfast at a local hole-in-the-wall venue. Bright red lipstick coated her lips, and an expensive Coach purse hung over one arm.
“Bronson, fancy seeing you here,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you at our place.”
10
Who was this woman? She put a hand on her hip and my eyes narrowed in on her lips. They seemed especially plump, almost as if she’d had a lip augmentation.
“You made it seem like you never wanted to see me again,” she said with a pout.
“This isn’t our place,” Bronson said. “I’ve been coming here for years. I brought you here one time, and you said you didn’t like it. Said it didn’t have enough class and you wouldn’t come back.”
Great. The man probably dated a lot and now I was face-to-face with one of his other women. Talk about awkward.
The woman eyed me like a lioness sizing up her prey. “And who might this be?”
“I’m Allison McBride.” I extended my hand for her to shake. She looked at it like I’d offered her a snake, so I slowly let my arm drop to my side.
“I’m Serena Shermer, Bronson’s ex-fiancée.”
Knowing she was his “Ex” made me feel a little better.
Bronson ran a hand over his face and appeared as if he wanted to bolt from his seat and take off. “Serena, please don’t cause trouble.”
She ignored him and turned her attention to me. “I hope you haven’t set your sights on Bronson. He’ll break your heart just like he broke a dozen hearts before you.” She laughed and the sound was maniacal, reminding me of the witch on the Wizard of Oz. Well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration—I was too close to the situation and probably a little jealous—but it wasn’t far off. Judging by the way she looked at me, I half expected her to say, “I’ll get you my pretty!”
She put a hand on her hip and regarded me. “You’re attractive, I’ll give you that, but you’re not his usual type. He normally goes for high-maintenance divas, and you’re more of the girl-next-door variety,” she said, condescension dripping off those plump lips.
Was that supposed to be an insult? Because I’d rather be a girl-next-door type than a high-maintenance diva any day of the week. Part of me wanted to fire back at her, but the other part knew it was wiser to remain silent. She was sinking her own ship and didn’t need my help.
Bronson’s expression grew cold and emotionless. “Serena, are you done? We’re trying to enjoy our breakfast.”
She glared at him and then pulled a card from her purse and handed it to me. “Call me if you ever want to commiserate. I’ve formed a club: Bronson’s discarded dates.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder and headed towards the exit, stiletto heels clicking on the ground.
I turned to Bronson. “Whoa. That was . . . interesting.” I picked up my glass of water and took a sip, looking away.
Bronson’s face grew redder by the moment, and judging by his expression, it wasn’t because he was embarrassed. He looked like he was about to boil over. “That woman . . . I don’t know what I ever saw . . . she’s been a thorn in my . . .” He closed his eyes. “Never mind. My mom always told me if you can’t say something nice . . .”
“Don’t say anything at all,” I finished for him.
He nodded. “I’m really sorry about that. If I’d known she’d be here, I would never have brought you to this place.”
We ate for a few minutes in uncomfortable silence after that. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I finally broke the ice. “I get the feeling Serena doesn’t normally come here. Do you think she’s been on the lookout for you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s been trying to get in touch lately, but I haven’t taken her calls.”
“Can I ask you something?”
He nodded. “Go ahead. I’m sure you have questions after that demonstration.”
“I’m just trying to understand . . . you were going to marry her? I’m assuming she’s a lot nicer once you get to know her.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in his eyes. “Yeah, she was when she got her way.”
“Have you always gone for the spoiled, high maintenance types?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Used to in my less mature days. God’s done a lot in my life since then, and I’ve learned my lesson. Women like that create way too much drama. Now, I’d prefer to be with someone down to earth and genuine.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Someone like you.”
A small measure of relief flooded through me. “Good to know.” I glanced in the direction Serena left. “What happened between you and her? She sounded bitter.”
He shook his head. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t please her. She grew more and more controlling—got mad at me if I didn’t respond right away to her numerous texts, multiple times a day. We had a really unhealthy pattern: she’d break up with me over something minor—like I had to work late—and then she’d beg me to take her back. I couldn’t do it anymore.”
Glancing at the card she’d given me, I tried to keep my expression neutral. “What’s this about a club? How many scorned women do you have in your life?”
He frowned. “She was trying to get under your skin. She’s not in touch with any of my ex-girlfriends as far as I know.”
I didn’t miss how he’d left ou
t an actual number.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t judge you based on your ex-girlfriends.”
At least I’d try not to.
Bronson’s jaw tightened. “After I broke up with Serena, I decided to never let that happen again. That’s why I like to keep it casual. No commitments. No promises. No expectations. Just two people enjoying each other’s company.”
His statement dashed what little hope I had. I’d been waiting for those words—knew in my heart of hearts that’s how he felt. But even though I understood how he’d come to that conclusion after seeing Serena’s song and dance, it didn’t change the fact he and I were in completely different places in life since I wanted a lasting relationship. We would never work—just as I’d originally thought.
“I see.”
He glanced at me. “I really like you, Allison, and I’d love to spend more time together—”
“I’m a little confused. Yesterday you said you wanted to get married one day, but today you’re saying you don’t want a commitment. Which is it?”
His shoulders stiffened and he looked away. “I do want to get married—way off in the future. I’m still young. There’s lots of time.”
I nodded slowly. “How far off in the future? Two years? Five years?” Ten years?
“I’m going with the flow and taking it day by day.”
In my book that was code for “never.”
“So, casual dating is all you’re up for right now? You don’t want a girlfriend?”
“I enjoy spending time with you. No need to put a label on it.”
Disappointment washed through me but not surprise. I’d never met someone like him—ever. And I probably wouldn’t again. But I couldn’t sell myself out. I gave four years of my life to Greg—four years I would never get back. He was a dear friend now, and I didn’t regret dating him, but I had to make better decisions for the future. Going after the unattainable would be throwing even more time down the toilet. I wasn’t getting any younger, and as much as I scoffed at people joking about their biological clock ticking . . . mine was growing louder and louder by the day.
“We just met,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking for a commitment right now either. We would need to get to know each better. But if we continue to date, I’d like to know a commitment is a possibility in the future. I want to get married and have a family one day, and I don’t have years to waste.” Shifting in my seat, I folded my hands in my lap and let out a sigh. That statement would probably scare him off, but I was done playing games. Might as well put all my cards on the table. “I’m looking for a relationship that will lead to marriage one day. If that’s not what you want as well, we’re wasting each other’s time.”
Bronson’s eyes widened. “Wow. You don’t mince words, do you?”
Not really knowing what else to say, I smiled and shrugged. I’d already said enough.
“Well, it’s great you know your mind so well. I admire you for it.”
I sensed a “but” coming.
“But . . . that’s too intense for me right now.”
He leveled those blue eyes on me, and I squirmed in my seat. If he kept staring at me like that, I might take it all back.
“That’s fine. I understand.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. You had a bad relationship, and you’re afraid you’ll lose your freedom again.”
He leaned closer. “So, we’re good then?”
“We’re good.”
He leaned back, stretching out his muscled arms along the back of the booth. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that.” He pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “What’s up next? Want to hang out a little longer?”
“Ugh . . . I think you misunderstood. I understand where you’re coming from, but that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind.” I could have offered friendship, but I couldn’t be friends with Bronson without wanting more.
“Wait. So, you don’t want to hang out?” he asked, eyes flickering with surprise and something else I couldn’t identify.
“It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, but it’s clear we want different things.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s not going to work out.”
His posture fell. “Wow. I’m really kind of bummed right now. I didn’t expect you to say that.”
“What did you expect?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
I slid out of the booth and stood. Time to go before I let my emotions get the best of me. “Thanks for breakfast.”
He stood as well. Pressing his lips into a grim line, he picked up the bill to take to the cashier.
I reached for it. “Let me pay. It’s the least I can do after all your help.”
He shook his head. “No, I invited you. It’s my treat.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
He walked past me and stood in line at the cash register. Observing his profile, I noticed the lines of his lips drooped the tiniest bit. Maybe I just wanted confirmation he was sad this was our last date, and we wouldn’t be going to the park now. We wouldn’t have the opportunity to introduce our pets. A heavy sadness pressed down on my chest, and I blinked back tears before they had a chance to fall.
I’d move on and forget about him. This would be a tiny blip on the screen, and I’d laugh about it one day with Emily.
Just not now. Right now, I felt pretty crummy.
11
Greg: Been thinking about you a lot. Wish I’d been a better boyfriend when we dated.
Ugh. Just what I needed. I cared about Greg, but I didn’t see a future with him. Sometimes he got like this and it usually passed within a few days. Soon enough, he’d call me to tell me about his next date and all would be forgotten. I punched out a quick response.
Me: Everything turned out as it should. You’re the best of friends.
I put the phone away and resumed cleaning my kitchen. A few weeks had passed since Bronson came over with Steve to secure my house, and even though I was still sad it hadn’t worked out with him, I’d done my best to stay busy so I wouldn’t think about it too much. It hadn’t been easy, given Bronson had left quite an impression, but I knew I’d done the right thing by letting him know upfront where I stood. It would have been harder if we’d started dating steadily and realized down the road we both wanted different things.
It just wasn’t meant to be.
Emily thought I should have given it more time before I laid it all on the line, but I felt at peace with my decision.
Still . . . Bronson’s low chuckle and bright blue eyes lingered in my mind’s eye like the warm sun on a summer’s day. I prayed daily God would bring someone into my life and help me forget Bronson. That would be no easy feat, but the Lord could do anything, right? My phone dinged with a reply from Greg.
Greg: Want to drive together to Ethan’s birthday party?
I hesitated, considering the option. Greg had been sending out a lot of mixed signals lately, and I didn’t want to encourage that in any way. I knew in my heart I didn’t have feelings for him anymore. It would be so easy to settle, but I couldn’t do that. I really didn’t want to hurt him, but I also didn’t want to give him any sign there might be another chance for us. I typed out a quick response.
Me: Think I’ll drive on my own this time. Thanks though!
There was a knock on the front door, and I headed over to see who it was. I looked through the peephole and saw Edith Chapman. Opening the door, I smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Chapman.”
“Good morning, Allison. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure, come on in.”
We moved to the living room and sat on my sofa. “What’s on your mind?”
She frowned. “I can’t stay long—have zucchini bread in the oven—but there’s something that’s been bothering me, and I can’t rest until we talk about it.”
My brows knit together. “What is it?”
“I just remembered something. Dale Jones, the man who sold this house to you . . . well, he had Barry house-sit for him once when he went out of state to visit relatives. It was only for a few days, but he gave Barry a key.”
My eyes widened, and my hand flew to my mouth. “How could I be so stupid?”
“Oh, dear,” she said. “Please tell me you changed your locks when you moved in.”
I shook my head. “I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t. I know it’s standard practice, but Mr. Jones assured me he hadn’t given anyone else a key. Plus, I was so busy moving everything in and the neighborhood seemed safe, so I procrastinated and never did anything about it.”
Mrs. Chapman’s eyes widened. “Mr. Jones probably forgot about that one occurrence. He suffered from dementia at times. You’ve got to change those locks right away.”
“Steve, the security guy you met a few weeks ago, already changed them.”
“Thank goodness.” Mrs. Chapman put a hand over her heart. “I kept chiding myself for not remembering sooner.”
“It’s not your fault. I should have known better. At least I know how Barry got in that one time.”
“Has he bothered you at all lately?”
“No, ever since I filed a restraining order he’s kept his distance. He called once to say he was glad I’d stopped seeing the police officer and asked me to give him a chance.”
Mrs. Chapman shook her head. “The nerve of him, thinking you’d give him a chance after what he did.”
“I told him he was in violation of the restraining order and said I planned on reporting the phone call.”
“Good.” Mrs. Chapman gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with that nice police officer. He was respectful—looked me in the eye. I liked him.”
“He’s a great guy, but sometimes things don’t work out.” I glanced away so she wouldn’t see my eyes watering.
Mrs. Chapman stood. “Well, I need to get home to check on my zucchini bread.”
“Thank you for coming by and letting me know about the locks.”
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