30
Iwaited until the next day to confront Brody. I didn't want to have this conversation-slash-fight in front of Jacks. She didn't need to know what was going on between her father and mother and I didn't want to put her in the middle.
So, I did something I normally never would have done. I showed up at his office. I called his assistant, Kara, first thing in the morning and asked if he had any free time in his schedule right before lunch. I was hoping he hadn't mentioned that we'd broken up and it paid off. I told her that I wanted to surprise Brody.
Kara penciled me in for the half-hour before his lunch and promised not to mention it to him. I felt horrible for lying. I would make it up to her somehow. She came into the shop for ice cream from time-to-time, so maybe I could give her free ice cream for...six months. Okay, maybe a year.
I parked my car in front of Brody's office. I hadn't been here before. Mostly because his father worked here as well and I really didn't want to deal with him. His parents had taken our relationship surprisingly well, but I sensed his mother wished he were dating someone more like her. And his father had the attitude that I would give up my business as soon as I got married, which wasn't going to happen.
I may not have aspirations to be CEO of a multimillion-dollar contracting firm, but I did have goals and they were fairly ambitious.
I arrived for my "appointment" with Brody at eleven-thirty on the dot. I didn't want to be early and run the risk of Brody seeing me before Kara showed me into his office.
Kara's smile was bright when I came in, but her eyes were tired. "Hey, Cam. Good to see you. I'm so glad you're here. I don't know what's going on with him, but he's been a beast for the last couple of days. Maybe lunch with you will sweeten his mood."
Oh, I seriously doubted that. I intended to read Brody the riot act, but I wasn't sure I wanted to make up after all was said and done. When Monica made her threats, Brody hadn't talked to me about it. He hadn't tried to work out an alternative plan with me, or even let me know what was happening.
He'd dumped me. He made the decision without my input and left me heartbroken.
I wasn't entirely sure I could forgive that.
Maybe that made me a petty person or inflexible, but my parents always encouraged open communication. They wanted us to feel comfortable talking to them about anything. But they also led by example. They talked about everything under the sun. J.J. and I rarely saw them argue, but when they did, they resolved the disagreement fairly quickly.
I'd had a good example of how to work together in a relationship. So had Brody. He spent enough time with our family growing up that he saw the same things I had. He knew how to communicate openly and honestly.
But he'd chosen not to talk to me. That's why it hurt so much when I realized why he'd done it.
"Well, he's free right now and at his desk, so why don't I show you in. I'll hold his calls until you leave so you can get out of here and have a nice, long lunch."
There was a twinkle in her eye and I knew it was because she thought we were going out for a quickie rather than food.
I forced myself to smile at her and said, "Thanks. That'd be great."
She rose from her desk and walked to Brody's door. I made sure to stand off to the side behind her when she knocked and stuck her head in.
"Your eleven-thirty is here," she murmured.
"Go ahead and show them in, Kara." Brody sounded tired. And frustrated. There was a short pause. "Sorry about earlier."
Earlier? What the heck happened earlier?
Kara stepped back and I nodded to her as I entered the office and shut the door behind me.
Brody's office was bright and neat, his furniture new but not luxurious. His desk was L-shaped and he sat, his head bent as he shuffled a few papers, organizing them before he put them into a manila folder, and shut it.
When his head came up, I nearly winced. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he looked as though he hadn't slept for the last forty-eight hours since we'd broken up.
If he was doing what I thought he was, he probably had been overextending himself.
"Cameron," he said, blinking several times. He rubbed his eyes and looked at me again as though he couldn't believe that I was standing in front of him. "What are you doing here?"
I reached down and clicked the lock on his door. He looked destroyed. As if he'd suffered a mortal blow, but his body didn't understand that the fight was over. Seeing him like this made my decision for me. I was going to give him hell. When I was done, he would never, ever again make a decision that affected both of us without talking to me. Then, after a sincere apology and maybe even a little groveling, I was going to forgive him.
Because he loved me as much as I loved him.
If he didn't, he wouldn't look so horrible.
"You're a dumbass," I said.
