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.
