“That’s not fair.”
“It’s not, to me. If you were truly honest with yourself, you’d see that.”
Her eyes become wet. It’s something not often seen by the strong woman I know. But as much as I want to wrap her in my arms, I can’t. I’ve been her friend and her chew toy for too long to count.
“But, Brandon, I’ve waited so long for this.”
“So have I. And it appears we’ll have to wait longer. Handle your shit, Jenna. And then truly decide if you want to be with me. I won’t be your shadow man any longer. I deserve better, and so do you.”
Walking out the door is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. However, it’s time I’m the man someone needs and can’t live without, not the man someone just wants.
Twenty
Jenna
My palms are wetter than a humid summer day as I get out of my car to walk inside of my parents’ home. Sunday dinner is never an option in the Rhoades’ home. It’s an expectation. And it’s always after church—around twelve thirty. Even Ben and his wife attend every Sunday. It’s funny how neither my brother nor I ever think to tell my mother we can’t go. But I must admit, the chicken, or whatever Betty—who’s been cooking for our family ever since I can remember—cooks up, isn’t something I really want to say no to. Crispy chicken and buttery mashed potatoes with smooth yummy gravy almost make me forget I’ll be facing a firing squad in a few minutes.
Taking a cleansing breath so my brain can think positive thoughts, I square my drooping shoulders and march up the porch steps. When I walk in, I hear voices coming from the left—the “parlor” as my mother refers to it as. I call it the den. Here goes my life as I know it.
My mother is the first to notice me when I enter the room.
“Hello, dear. Where’s Kenneth? Does he have political duties with his father today?”
“No, Mom, Kenneth won’t be joining me anymore. We’ve broken off the engagement.”
Ben and Sam clutch each other’s hands, and I want to jump into their cluster. My dad stares at me as though I’m an alien that just landed in his house. Mom looks at me, and I know a string of unspoken words are flying through her mind this minute. Her red lips stretch into a thin line, reminding me of licorice. It gives me an indication of exactly how pissed she is.
“So, Jenna, what did you do to cause this break up?” she asks bitterly.
“It wasn’t me, Mom. It was Kenneth. And I don’t really want to discuss it.” The way I hear myself trying to convince her makes me feel like I’m eleven again.
“I see.” Her clipped tone tells me otherwise, but she takes a tiny sip out of one of her prized teacups. Good Lord, you’d think she ask if I were upset or at least say she was sorry.
When no one says anything, she then turns an accusatory gaze on my brother and asks, “So, Benjamin, were you aware of this?”
My brother is a strong man, and he’s the only one who seems to have the balls to stand up to her.
“Actually, I was. But I believed it was Jenna’s place to tell you. And I would think you’d show a little concern for her.”
Score for Benny! I want to pump my fist, but I also catch Dad’s warning glare.
“Humph. No telling what she did to deserve this,” Mom mumbles.
“If you only knew,” Ben mumbles back, ignoring Dad.
“What was that?” Mom asks.
Ben shoots a look toward me, but I shake my head. I refuse to go there with the parents. They don’t have to know about Kenneth’s proclivities—at least not from me anyway.
“Nothing,” Ben says.
Mom asks me, “Do the Balfours know?”
“I don’t know. I suppose Kenneth has told them, but that’s his business, not mine.”
Mom releases a long, agonizing sigh. “I guess I should give them a call.” She sounds like she’s taking her last breath. Dear God, the poor woman.
“Jenna, baby, are you okay with this?” Dad asks.
“Yes, Daddy, I’m fine. Good, in fact.” He comes over and gives me a hug.
“You sure?” He tips my chin up.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Betty comes in and announces dinner is ready. I run to hug her, not because she’s rescued me, but because I adore her.
“You only adore my chicken,” she says as she pinches my cheek.
“I do, Betty, but I love you just as much.” I follow her into the dining room and take my usual seat, the one across from Ben. Sam sits next to him while Mom and Dad are at the opposite ends of the table. The room smells heavenly, and once everyone sits, I pick up my plate and place a piece of chicken on it. My mouth immediately waters. Next come the mashed potatoes, followed by the gravy, biscuits, green beans, and squash casserole. I always leave room for dessert because Betty is incomparable with those, too. I don’t know how my mother stays so slim with Betty around.
Focusing on my plate, I barely speak during the meal. Mom finally notices and says, “Jenna, if you keep eating like that, you’ll be as big as this house. Then you’ll never find a replacement for Kenneth.”
She really had to go there, didn’t she? Not being able to keep my mouth shut, I retaliate by saying, “Maybe I don’t want a replacement. Maybe I want to be a rebel, Mother.”
“A rebel? What on Earth are you talking about?”
“What I’m saying is, maybe I don’t want to try to fit into a square mold when I’m a cylinder.”
Mom dabs her mouth with the white linen napkin she holds and says, “That’s ridiculous. Of course, you’re not a cylinder. You belong in the Balfour family, darling. You just don’t realize it yet.”
The bite of chicken in my mouth turns to sawdust. Is she for real? After I swallow, I say, “Mom, I spent years with Kenneth. It’s over. I don’t belong with anyone right now, except myself.”
Her admonishment comes across as sympathy, but I know better. “Oh, Jenna, you can’t mean that. This is all a big mistake, a misunderstanding. You’ll see.”
“No, I won’t see. We’re done. Kaput. Over. There isn’t going to be a wedding, and I’m not marrying Kenneth.” Even Betty’s chicken and mashed potatoes can’t calm my roiling stomach now. Why can’t she see this isn’t going to happen? All she cares about is marrying me off to some man with a prominent Southern name. Ugh. She’s so frustrating.
“Julia, leave it be,” Dad says.
Ben kicks me under the table. That’s my cue to give it up and go on. He’s clueless as far as this goes. It’s different for him because he’s a man. He went through his own problems with our dad, though, but thankfully, they’ve worked most things out. Stealing a sideways glance at him, I notice the deep furrows in his brow. Jeez, if he thinks any harder, his brain will explode. Betty’s dinner will surely be ruined then. The idea of it hits me, and a tiny giggle threatens to leap out of my mouth. Luckily, I manage to control it, but not for long. It’s one of those moments where the harder I try, the more difficult it is, and soon, I’m holding back a snort. Unfortunately, it’s an epic fail.
“Well, I declare. Jenna Margaret Rhoades,” Mom says with disdain. “Haven’t I taught you any manners at all?”
My snorts are so obnoxious, it’s impossible to respond. Ben nails me in the shin, and that sets off another round of loud snortles. I push away from the table so I can lean forward and laugh my ass off with abandon.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with that girl. No wonder she can’t find anyone to marry her,” Mom says. That makes me laugh even harder, because if she knew the reason I wasn’t marrying Kenneth was that he had the largest penis I could possibly conjure up in my mind crammed up his ass, she would faint right before my very eyes. By now my fist is slamming down on the white linen covered table, rattling the china and crystal, and Mom is telling me to get ahold of myself.
“Martin, I believe she’s gone tetchy on us. Look at the girl.”
Ben intervenes and says, “Nah, she’s fine. Isn’t she, Sam?”
“I think she has th
e church giggles,” Sam says.
“Church giggles? Why, if she did that in our church, they’d want to do an exorcism on her,” Mom counters.
I’m finally calm enough to speak, and my face is wet from crying I laughed so hard.
“Sorry, everyone. I must’ve gotten carried away.”
“Hmm. Is that what you call it?” Mom asks.
I give a sideways glance at my dad and see his mouth shaking as he tries to hold back his laugh. Gah, Mom puts a damper on everything.
Afraid to answer for fear I’ll break out into another round of the giggles, I only nod. Then I glance at Sam with a hand covering her mouth as she visibly shakes. This was just as funny for her as it was for me. I’m so relieved when Betty clears the table and brings in dessert—her famous chocolate cake. She cuts me a humongous piece, and I eat every bite as my mom watches.
“What?” I ask. “It’s not like I have to fit into a wedding gown now.”
Her lips pinch and I know I shouldn’t have said it, but the whole thing just galls me. The best part is when I’m leaving and Betty hands me a plate with a quarter of the cake on it. Mom looks on in horror.
“Thanks, Betty. I guess this will be my breakfast in the morning.”
Dad chimes in, saying, “Well, I’m glad to see a young lady with a healthy appetite.”
“Martin,” Mom gasps in horror.
“It’s true, Julia. Jenna looks great, and there’s no reason she shouldn’t enjoy Betty’s fine cooking.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I walk over and kiss him.
On the way home, Ben calls. He’s laughing his ass off over what I said and did. “Mom was freaked out.”
“All I could think of was that image of Kenneth and Horace, and then I thought of her reaction if she only knew. I couldn’t stop laughing.”
Ben’s guffaws nearly shatter my tympanic membranes, so I have to turn the volume down on my sound system since he’s on my hands-free link. “That has to go down as the best dinner ever.”
“Yeah, except a hundred to one, she’s going to call the Balfours, and I can hear them now trying to get us back together.”
After we end the call, there’s only one person I want to get together with, and it’s Brandon. Only he doesn’t want to get together with me. And he was right about everything. I’ve known for a long time that I didn’t want to be with Kenneth, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him. Catching him with Horace gave the get out of jail card I’d been looking for. It allowed me to back away without being the bad one. And Brandon deserves not to be hanging in the shadows anymore. That’s not fair at all to him.
With step one behind me—telling my parents—I need to figure out how one goes about “recovering” after the breakup of an engagement. What is the proper time to wait until one dates? I decide to call Cate.
“I don’t think there’s a set time. It’s up to the individual. You don’t want to look like some super bitch, though, so I would think a month or two. Have you asked Sam or Ben?”
“No,” I say. “You’re my first go-to on all these things.”
“But wait. How was dinner?”
When I tell her, she sounds exactly like my brother did over the phone. But then she suggests I call Brandon. I told her what he said to me, and she agreed with him.
“You should call him, Jenna. Maybe he’ll see you’re trying to make this right.”
“You think? After what he said?” I want to feel hopeful, but I’m not so sure.
“Yeah, I do. If he cares about you, he has to listen.”
Long after we end the call, I keep thinking about what Cate said. Maybe there is a chance. So I take it and call Brandon. I’m on the verge of chickening out and hanging up when he answers.
“Jenna.”
“Brandon.” And then I act like a moron because every intelligent thought I ever had flees my brain and I can’t think of a single thing to say.
“So, were you calling to be silent, or was there a purpose to this call?”
His voice is so fucking sexy I wish there were a way to flash myself over to him right this second.
“Um, yeah, I believe there was.” What a lame response.
“Care to share that with me, or am I supposed to guess?”
A snort-laugh, which is very unattractive sounding, bursts out of me, and I cover my mouth to mute myself. “No, you’re not supposed to guess. I wanted to see if you could come over. There are some things I’d like to talk to you about.”
“What happened?”
“I talked to my parents today. They know the engagement is off.”
“And?”
“Well, if you come, I can explain, and I also have cake.” I add this as an enticement, crossing my fingers hoping it does the trick.
“Cake, huh? I guess I can come over for some cake, as long as I get an extra large piece.”
“Um, yeah, you can have a big piece if you want,” I say. In reality, I’m drooling as I think of him licking his fork.
Dashing into the bathroom, I check out my hair and makeup, just to make sure I don’t look like some wild creature. Then I change my shirt into something a little sexier. The cake is on the counter so I pull out a plate and two forks, trying to be cute.
Not much later, he knocks on my door. When I open it, I move to hug him, but he slips past me and goes directly into my kitchen. Then he sees the cake with one plate. The air he stirs as he passed by reminds me of the beach, and I’d do anything to hug him and sniff the hell out of his neck. He takes a seat on the couch and stretches out his long thick legs. Boy, would I like to ride that train.
“You’re not having any?” he asks.
“I thought we could share.”
“Nope. I don’t share my cake, Jenna.” His gravelly voice nails me between my thighs, and all I want to do is kiss him. Then the big tease tilts his head and slides his teeth over his lower lip. My eyes most likely bug out. They feel like that, but I can’t tell because they’re my eyes. He shoots me a sexy grin, the little shit.
“Do you eat your cake?”
I watch him take a bite and then lick his lips. “You bet I do. And I enjoy every minute of it when I do, too.”
I suck in my breath so loud, it sounds like a cat’s in the room hissing at us. Brandon’s deep chuckle sends a tingle down my spine. Oh, he’s loving every minute of this.
“Why are your legs crossed, Jenna?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you, Brandon. If you know how to eat cake so well, you should be able to figure that out.”
He chuckles. “So?”
Those two letters pull me out of my sex-craved fantasy. “So what?”
My brain is mush. He’s so damn close, and I want to touch him so bad, there is a throbbing between my legs.
“What happened after you told your parents your engagement was off?”
Oh. Sighing and getting my head out of his pants, I say, “My mother is in la-la land. Dad is Dad. And that’s all.”
“That’s all, huh?”
Then I get a serious case of diarrhea of the mouth and blurt out everything that happened, from my hysterics at the dinner table to me carting off the huge chunk of cake.
“Is that it?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
He leans forward, elbows on his thighs, and asks, “So, what’s next, Jenna?” His eyes grab me and don’t let go.
“What do you mean?” I’m not sure what his expectations are.
He tilts his head and continues to stare. “We’ve been friends for how long now? I can’t even remember. And it seems we’ve danced around this issue for far too long. Did you ask me here because you want us to move beyond friends?”
“Yes! But what do you want me to say? I just broke off the engagement, so what do you want from me now?”
His jaw works as his grits his teeth. “I just need to know what you want out of this. Because if you’re looking for an occasional hookup, I’ve been down that road. It never ends well, and I might have to
take a pass.”
“Do you mean end us seeing each other altogether?”
“Maybe. What do you want? For us to go out on a date and see where this goes or a good fuck every now and again?” His eyes stab me straight in the heart. “But that’s not what I really want.” His words are tight and crisp.
“No! I want us to date. But I-I don’t know. I’m pretty sure there is a waiting period. You know. I don’t want to look like a bitch or anything.”
“So, I’m still the guy you want to keep hidden in a closet?”
Part of me wants to laugh because his comment reminds me of Kenneth hiding in a closet, but the seriousness on his face stops me. And truly, there really is no adequate response for this other than yes, so I don’t bother answering. Finally, he ends our stalemate.
“Answer me something. Are you happy you’re not marrying Kenneth?”
“Yes!”
“Then why not act it?”
“Brandon, you don’t know my family. They want me to marry … oh, it’s too hard to explain.”
He folds his arms over his chest.
“You don’t think I get it. Like you haven’t talked to me about this before. Maybe not in great detail. But, Jenna, why don’t you try living your own life for a change?”
“I do live my own life.”
“Yeah, hiding it from everyone.” I’m ready to cut in and tell him he’s wrong, but he adds, “Answer another question for me. Will we ever get to a point where you will want to be seen in public with me or even around your family?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer.
“Doesn’t sound too promising, but I’m not trying to pressure you. You had to face your parents at dinner, and I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”
His words gouge a place in my heart because he’s right. I don’t truly live my life, always marching to the beat of my mother’s drum. Trying to please my mom and dad hasn’t worked out very well for me, so why not try something different? But to be fair to Kenneth, I can’t run out like the happiest woman in Charleston, celebrating my breakup.
“Give me a month. And then we’ll go out.”
One Wrong Choice (A Cruel and Beautiful Book Book 3) Page 14