Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (108 page)

We burst into laughter so loud, customers turn to stare. “Fran, you’re unbelievable!”

Fran and I say our goodbyes and I feel Brad’s eyes follow me as we walk out the door. This time I don’t look back.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

FRAN’S WORDS OF wisdom seem to be invading my thoughts a lot lately. I laugh out loud; she wants my leftovers. Well, she can have them, and gladly. I’m feeling a bit more confident today and know I have to call Dane. I need to face what happened last week, but I also need to get him Robby’s new design plans for his apartment. Above all else, I have a job to do.

On my lunch break, I pull myself up from my chair, which I now seem to be stuck to, and head over to a small conference room. I peek inside and when I don’t see anyone, walk in and close the door behind me. I dial Dane’s number, feeling pretty confident. He answers after three rings. “Hey Dane, it’s Gabby. Listen, I want to apologize for leaving the way I did the other night.”

“That’s okay. I’m sorry that I upset you. Can I make it up to you, say tonight?”

I’m not giving up my Friday night. “I can’t tonight, but how about next week?”

“Sure. I’ll call you tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you, Gabby.”

“Okay, bye Dane.”

* * * * *

FRIDAY IS ALWAYS takeout and movie night. I rent
Pretty Woman
. Why? Because I’m a hopeless, sappy romantic and I love happy endings...especially one involving Richard Gere. By the time I pick everything up and make it home, I’m completely drained. Ripping off my work clothes in favor of my trademark sweatpants and a tank top, I settle in under a warm, soft blanket with some chicken and broccoli, and Richard Gere.

Just as I get settled, my cell phone rings. I consider not answering it since Fran is with Kyle, but pick it up just in case it’s her. It’s Brad.

“Hey, you,” he says, with that ability to always make me smile even through the freaking phone.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Whatcha up to?”

“I’m getting ready to eat takeout and watch a movie. What about you?

“I’m closing up for the night. What movie?”

I’m almost embarrassed to share. “
Pretty Woman
,” I answer sheepishly.

“That just happens to be my favorite movie.”

Liar. “Yeah right.”

“Seriously, I like Julia Roberts.”

“I’m sure you do,” I say with playful sarcasm.

He laughs. “I don’t think I like your tone, little lady.”

I think I’d like to see him. “Do you want to come over and see Julia Roberts then?”

“Okay, but only if you have popcorn.”

“Why is that?” I don’t think we have any popcorn.

“Just in case I need to throw it at you.”

I laugh. “See you soon.”

“You betcha.”

Putting down the phone, I let what I just did sink into my brain. I just invited Brad over to my apartment. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. Or maybe I was thinking. I don’t know. It’s only cute, sweet, adorable Brad. It’s not a date or anything. Yeah, okay Gabby, whatever.

I rush into the bathroom to brush my hair and throw a little lip gloss on. Realizing I’m bra-less, I take one out of my drawer and put it on, then fish through my closet and put a different shirt on; one without stains.

The doorbell rings, and inhaling a deep breath, I make my way over to answer it. There stands Brad, smiling with every ounce of himself.

“Come on in, Julia’s been waiting for you.”

“Oh, I was hoping it was you who was waiting for me.”

Gulp. “So, are you hungry? I have a lot of chicken and broccoli left.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” He hands me a cup with The Brew House logo. “Here. I know it’s kind of late for caffeine, so I brought you a peppermint hot chocolate.” Brad’s eyes roam the kitchen counter and land on the bags of Twizzlers and Swedish Fish. “What’s all this?” he asks, obviously excited.

“Ah, you mean my secret addiction. I love candy. I buy it any chance I get and stockpile it. I guess you could call me a candy hoarder.”

His amused eyes scan my face. “Well, looks like your secret’s out.”

“I’m truly relieved,” I say, blowing out a breath. “It’s been hard hiding that for so long.” I stop when I realize what I’ve said. He has no idea how true that statement is. “So, what do you want to watch?”

“What do you mean? I thought we were watching
Pretty Woman
?”

“Wouldn’t you rather watch
Terminator
or something?”

“
Terminator
? You actually have that movie here?”

“Well, no.”

Brad looks at me strangely. “Why are you suggesting it then?”

“Because it’s more…” I look up at the ceiling, as if an answer is going to fall down in the form of peeling paint. “I don’t know…manly.”

“Are you suggesting I’m too manly to watch
Pretty Woman
?”

“Well, no…but…”

“Listen, remember me? I’m the one who took you to see Looney Tunes. I think I can handle
Pretty Woman
.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Okay, if you insist.”

“I do.”

I meander into the kitchen and reach up on my tippy toes, grab a plate and fork for Brad, and load it up with chicken and broccoli, then fill up a glass of ice water for him.

Panic sets in as I make my way over to the sofa. I don’t know where to sit. Oh my God, I feel like I’m in freaking high school. Standing there nervously, I start twirling my hair with my fingers and sucking on my lip.

“Earth to Gabby?”

“Um…Yeah?”

“Are you going to sit or do you want to finish eating your lip first?”

“Uh…okay.”

I hand Brad the plate and sit down next to him, but not too close. Then I reach around and grab a blanket but when it doesn’t quite reach him, he eases over a bit. Our knees are touching and it’s making it hard to concentrate on the movie. I put my hands underneath my legs and sit there like a statue. A very tired one.

Somewhere between Julia Roberts watching
I Love Lucy
and Stuckey getting punched in the face, I fall asleep. I awaken to a soft shoulder and tender brown eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” I’m completely mortified. I hope there’s no drool on my face.

“That’s okay. I quite liked it. Except for the part where you were drooling and snoring.”

I nudge his shoulder. “I don’t drool
or
snore.”

“How would you know?
You
were sleeping.”

Being this close to Brad gives me a chance to peek at the tattoo around his bicep that I’ve been eyeing for so long. It looks like two scripted names wrapped around each other, with a small pink rose in the center. Curiosity gets the best of me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Your tattoo…” I trail off. Brad’s expression falls and I immediately regret saying the words. “I’m sorry…I ju…”

“No, it’s okay, really. It’s…it’s in memory of my mom and my sister. The name Clara wraps around the name Sofia. Clara was my sister and Sofia was my mom. My mom passed away when I was twelve, and my sister Clara, who I’ve mentioned before, passed away five years ago. Both from breast cancer.”

I suddenly feel an overwhelming ache in my heart for him. “Brad, I’m so sorry.”

“They were the two most important women in my life. I got the tattoo in remembrance, although it would be impossible to forget either one of them. They were both so full of life, and appreciated it in a way I’ve always admired. You actually remind me of them in some ways.”

I don’t know what to say. Reaching over, I weave my fingers through his. Brad looks down at our hands and pauses a moment before he continues.

“My mom was so amazing. She was always there for me. When I was a kid, she played with me all the time. Whether I was in the mud, playing basketball, or roughhousing, she was always right there beside me. She was a constant in my life, and I always knew she loved me no matter what I did.

“She sounds like she was very special.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “She really was. It was so hard when she got sick, though. I had to watch as the disease took over her body and her mind until I no longer recognized her anymore. After she died, I was lost. I needed her so badly. So I started skipping school and purposely getting into fights. I was so angry, and just didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

“I just wanted her back, you know. My dad put me in therapy for a while, before he went off the deep end himself. Now he lives in Ohio and is a bit of a recluse. He took her death really hard; not that I blame him. She was the love of his life. After that, he was never the same. He just became…lifeless and bitter.”

“So, do you still have contact with him?”

“No, not anymore. He blames the world for my mom’s death. I felt that way, too, at first. I had so many questions and I was angry. But over time and with therapy, I realized I’d never know why. And for whatever reason, God felt that it was her time. When my sister passed though, that was the last straw for Dad. It pushed him over the edge. She’d been sick for a while and we had to watch her disappear right in front of our eyes.” His eyes have a faraway look and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Clara was a real spitfire…larger than life. She had a mind of her own and no one could tell her anything. I remember just before she got diagnosed she was planning on backpacking across Europe. When we found out about the cancer, my dad practically forbade her to go because he was afraid something would happen to her while she was gone.” He chuckles. “But did she go? She sure as hell did. She said, ‘“Hey, if I’m dying, I might as well go out with a bang. The living have to keep on living.’” His eyes make their way to mine. “I miss her fire…her spirit.”

“What about your brother, Matt?”

“Since he lives in Los Angeles, we don’t see each other a lot, but we’re really close. We talk on the phone every other day, and make an effort to fly out and see each other at least four times a year.”

Brad looks at me now. “How about your family? I’ve only heard you talk about them briefly.”

“Ah…that’s a dysfunctional story at best. How much time do you have?” He just stares at me, waiting for me to go on. “My mom and dad are very self-absorbed, so needless to say we’re not very close. They never supported my choices unless it was what they wanted for me. I’m kind of a big disappointment to them. My dad lives his own life with his new wife in Atlanta and barely has time for me unless he happens to be in the neighborhood. My mom is so wrapped up with her clothing store in San Francisco and her new boyfriend every six months that the best she can do is call me once a month, if that. I have a sister, but we’re not close. They don’t get me. They never did.”

“I’m really sorry, Gabby.” He squeezes my hand.

“It’s okay. They just don’t know who I am. They don’t even know how much I like chocolate. Or that my favorite thing in the whole world is to curl up with a good book and get lost, and when I’m finished reading how sometimes I’m in tears because I’m affected so much. Because I feel so deeply. They tend to do a lot of talking and not much listening. After a while, I just stopped trying to talk to them. I guess I gave up on them ever really knowing me.” Tears are starting to surface and I move to cover my face.

Brad leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. His lips feel so soft. “It’s their loss, Gabby. They’re missing out on someone very special.”

The hour is getting late and Brad and I decide to call it a night. A part of me doesn’t want him to leave. I like having him here. He makes me forget.

Grabbing his leather jacket off the chair, I hand it to him, but not before I inhale the faint scent of Brad mixed with coffee.

I look into Brad’s eyes with complete sincerity. “Thank you, for showing me who you are tonight.”

He leans forward and places a sweet, lingering kiss on my cheek that warms my skin. “Thank you for sharing Julia Roberts with me,” he says with a gleam in his eye.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I DIDN’T SLEEP WELL, my mind consumed with thoughts of soft brown eyes and tattoos. In fact, those are the same brown eyes that have been consuming my dreams night after night. Even though Dane and I aren’t exclusive, or really dating, feelings of guilt are seeping into my brain but flickers of happiness seem to be melting them away, slowly but surely.

The bright blue sky and warm sunlight awakens me. I must’ve been drooling last night, because my hair is glued to my face and I’m practically eating it. Gross. I step into the shower and take a little bit too long scrubbing myself as my mind drifts to the soft lips that I’m desperate to kiss.

Fran is still sleeping and I nudge her before I leave so she’s not late for work. I don’t remember exactly, but there’s some big account and she has to go in for a few dreaded hours on a Saturday. Giving her a quick peck on the cheek, I head out the door.

I find myself grinning as I walk the streets of Manhattan today. In fact, I’m grinning so much that I feel as though everyone is staring at me like I have a big secret. Well, maybe I do. On the way to The Brew House, I walk by a store that catches my eye. There are cards and plaques with simple quotes about life in the window, but what I notice most is a wristband with a pink ribbon for breast cancer awareness. I have just enough time to stop. Walking inside the store, I make my way over to the display. Most of the bracelets look pretty feminine, but then I see one that’s stainless steel and leather. There are two ropes of black with a tiny pink ribbon imprinted on a stainless steel clasp. Perfect.

Taking a deep breath, I join the line at the coffee shop. When Brad’s eyes meet mine, my pulse quickens. There’s been a shift of some sort; I can feel it. Something about him pulls at me strongly, like we’re having some sort of tug of war and I’m losing. There are no flirty girls today, so I’m able to make my way right up to the counter.