“Yep, I can’t resist.” Brooke forced herself to straighten her shoulders. “I guess you could say I no longer care about—anything.” She laughed nervously as she fought back the tears working toward the corners of her eyes. With a forced smile, she continued, “So, why not eat my sorrows away on a loaf of bread?”
“Ahh—” he rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet.
He suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Word to the wise, do not share your mess of a life with a stranger. Deep discomfort will follow for you and them. Keep those emotions packed in tight until you find yourself alone again.
He scrunched his nose. “Sorry.”
She shrugged. “My life is falling apart.”
“I gathered that much.” He stumbled a step back and his hip hit the end of the aisle shelving.
“This,” Brooke shook the package of bread, “will help.”
Stop talking. You are scaring him.
“I see.” His lips pursed together, forming a tight line. “Good luck—with—that.” He tried to back up more but his body was pinned between her and the aisle.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” She laughed.
“Okay,” His eyes dilated a smidge, just enough that she thought he might think she was a total weirdo.
But luckily, she lived in Chicago. Her chances of seeing this guy again were pretty much zilch. The beauty of city living.
“Okay,” she repeated.
With nothing left to say, she brushed past him and shuffled over to the checkout lines. Brooke didn’t care what Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was doing, but she planned on high-tailingit out of this grocery store before she managed to have even more awkward conversations with innocent people.
So, she weaved through the store and arrived at the checkout lanes. But she found every line ten people deep. She groaned. Maybe this wasn’t worth it? She gnawed on her bottom lip as she contemplated abandoning the bread. A whiff of it filled her lungs. No, she needed this more than anything, bad choices and all. A cashier opened the self-checkout machines on the section past the normal checkout. Bingo.
This forced Brooke to duck and dive around the crowded lines and crawl her way to the self-checkout. By the time she arrived, the line for self-checkout weaved down the cookie aisle. She dragged her feet to the end of it.
As she waited, the beautiful cookies in plastic packaging taunted her. She ran her finger along the row of cookies. The double stuffed Oreos called her name.Eat me, eat me, eat me.Quickly, she checked the back of the package for the nutrition content. Terrible idea. She placed the package back on the shelf. The line didn’t budge, and the Oreos stared back at her.
“Fine,” she muttered to herself way too loud. “I’ll buy you too.”
If she was going down, she planned on doing it in style.
So, there she stood, hot bread in one hand and Oreos in the other, with her ugliest and grungiest clothes on. Her blood pressure rose with each passing minute. One customer had twelve coupons, another tried to ring up gift cards which wasn’t allowed in the self-checkout, and another tried to purchase alcohol. This required a worker to shuffle on over and approve the purchase. She peered down at her two items.
Was this worth it?
Yes.
“Oreos, too,” the familiar voice from earlier interrupted her thoughts. “Excellent choice.” He spoke from behind her.
Her jaw clenched. Something about his upbeat tone made her grip both items tightly in each hand. The package of Oreos crinkled under the clutch of her fingertips. Sure, she knew she was headed down the path of destruction, but she wanted to do it alone.
“Are you,” Brooke swiveled to face him then hissed with far too much gusto, “following me?”
“What?” He took a large step back, widening the gap between them. He looked around the aisle then back at her. “I’m sorry. I just got out of a twelve-hour surgery. I tend to be a bit chatty afterwards. I’m not following you. I thought we had a moment back there,” his voice softened, and he placed a hand over his chest, “I guess I was wrong.”
“Surgery?” She rolled her eyes. “Please.”
Brooke had met plenty of men like him at the hospital where she worked. Men who loved to use their profession as bragging rights to be a total turd. Well, too bad, she was not taking the bait. Guess what, news flash, she was a doctor too. Pediatrician.
“Um, sorry. Huh?”
“I get it, you’re a surgeon.” Brooke dramatically waved the hand with the package of Oreos around. “I should be drooling and throwing myself at you to get the chance to be with such a total catch.”
