Wherever It Leads (26 page)

“First of all, don’t ‘babe’ me. Got it?”

Nodding, he watches me carefully. He’s surprised by this new me, this more forward, confident version I’ve just taken on recently. He’s not comfortable with it, his hand going to his scalp and tugging on his hair.

“Second of all, you cheated on me. That’s unforgivable.”

“You never let me have a chance to explain.”

“No, I did. I gave you a chance and you didn’t take it. You just stretched out beside her and looked at me,” I spit, my blood boiling. “Go to hell, Grant.”

“But I wasn’t fucking her, Brynne.”

“I. Don’t. Care. Not anymore.”

“Well, I do care. I went overseas on two tours with Mandla to save money so we could start a life together—”

“We weren’t together the second one, asshat.”

He rolls his eyes, but it’s not a confident gesture. It’s a move that lets me know he’s grasping at straws. “But I was still thinking we’d get back together. Brady wanted us to.”

“Don’t you even bring him into this,” I glare. “It was him that told me to drop you because you were acting erratically.”

“I’ll never believe that.” He folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair. “That’s not what he said to me. He said he wanted us to fix things, to get back to the way they were.”

“Well,” I chirp, “The first step in that is getting Brady home because nothing can go back to the way it was until that happens. So why don’t you be a fucking man for the first time in your life and tell me what really happened that night?”

His mouth drops open, not used to me talking to him like this. His vulnerability only sets me on fire, makes me more determined to show him I’m not the naïve little girl he once knew.

“I’ve told you everything,” he notes evenly. “Brady left his bodyguard and ran into the street. There was nothing we could do.”

“And you want me to believe that?”

He shakes his head. “Yeah. Because it’s the truth.”

I search his eyes, looking for a tick that makes me believe him or not. But he’s such a good, practiced liar that I can’t find anything to go on.

“I really doubt it,” I say. “None of us believes that was the case. You and the other guy—you say you were ordered into that area and the company says you weren’t. Why were you there, Grant?”

“Because they told us to go there! They gave us the coordinates and off we went. Yeah, it seemed odd. But it’s not our place to object. That’s not how these things work. You do as you’re told and don’t question it.”

“That makes no sense.” I watch him fidget in his seat. “If that were the case, there would be some record of it. There’s not. Not according to Mandla’s files.”

He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, Brynne. But do you really think,
really think
, I’d have let anything happen to Brady? Fuck, he was my best friend. Not only that, it could’ve been me they grabbed. Why would I put us in that position?” He leans over the table, his eyes boring into mine. “You have to believe me. Think about it. What do I gain from having him gone? Nothing. Just the loss of the best guy I’ve ever known. And the loss of you, the love of my life.”

“Don’t . . .” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t start in on that.”

“But you are. I’ve loved you for so long.”

“You’ve needed me for so long,” I whisper. “Those are two different things.”

An extended silence settles over the table as we both let our words marinate. I wonder if what he’s saying is true. If any of it is true. It’s heartbreaking all around, and I bite my lip to remind myself to be calm.

I’m trying to form words when I sense him. His musk swirls together with the scent of expensive cologne. The air heats and moves around me in a seductive dance, the way it only does when Fenton is around.

I gasp, unmoving. I just wait for him to appear.

He’s dressed in a black suit, a satiny lilac tie hanging down his torso. Fenton’s eyes bore into mine, feeling me out.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach as I try to ascertain what the hell is happening.

“Everything is good,” Grant says. “Thank you.”

I hear his voice across the table, but it sounds like he’s a million miles away. I’m held captive by a pair of steely grey eyes that display a mixture of tenderness and irritation in their depths.

“Is that true, Miss? Is everything good here?” Fenton asks, ignoring Grant. He keeps a few steps away from me, his hands going straight to his pocket. I wonder if he’s having a hard time not reaching for me.

My hands, too, duck under the table so I don’t make a fool out of myself. They itch to grab him, lace through his silky strands and down his chest.

I nod, afraid to smile, too nervous to frown.

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Fenton replies. “I’d be disappointed if it weren’t. Most people fall in love with our service.”

“It’s been fabulous,” I whisper. “But I think falling in love is a bit of a stretch.”

The words tug a smile on my lips, and I’m immediately rewarded with one on his handsome face. “Everyone defines those things differently.”

“That’s true. Some people don’t believe you can even fall in love at all. What a shame.”

Fenton chuckles, the resonation drowning out Grant’s attempt to break into the conversation. “And some people think it’s about chemistry. How would you define the chemistry this evening?”

I glance at Grant, who’s watching us with an inquisitive eye. “I had fairly high expectations and they fell flat right away. But as the evening has progressed, things seem to be improving.
More or less
,” I add, just to throw him off.

“We do make a tremendous effort to put your needs over ours.”

“Is that so?” I laugh, my cheeks heating at him putting my needs over his every single time. He reads my thoughts and smirks.

“So, it’s safe to assume that you’re the owner of this fine establishment?” I raise my eyebrows, taunting him. I should’ve made the connection when I heard the name, so similar-sounding to his other restaurants, but I didn’t. Pano is so much more low-key, I didn’t think anything of it. But it’s true—this is his place. Now I can’t stop from wondering how Grant and I ended up here, but it’s no coincidence. It can’t be.

A smirk tickles his lips and he watches me with caution. “I am.”

I ask him a silent question and he shuts me down without a word. Instead, he turns to Grant. “I will take care of your bill this evening since your beautiful dining partner felt the experience tonight didn’t meet her standards.”

“I had a gift card someone gave me yesterday on the Pier. But, yeah, I’ll save it for later. Maybe we can come again, babe.”

Fenton bristles and keeps his eyes on mine. I grin, but don’t correct Grant. It’s far too much fun to watch Fenton’s reaction.

“If you don’t mind calling in a customer satisfaction survey at the end of your night, we’d really appreciate it,” Fenton says directly to me.

“Oh, I’d give this place five stars,” Grant gushes.

“What about you?” Fenton asks.

I shrug. “I’d give it four. Maybe five, but it’s lacking a few details that would really put it over the top. A few notes aren’t rounded out, if you know what I mean.”

He grins. “Please call us when you leave and tell us how we can improve your experience.”

My head shakes side to side in disbelief.
Cheeky fucker.

He laughs, nods to Grant, and moseys his way back through the restaurant until he disappears out of sight.

“W
ell, I guess that’s it,” Grant smiles, standing up from the table. He wipes his mouth with the linen napkin and tosses it on his plate.

Somehow I managed to make it through dinner. Grant chatted away, talking about dirt bikes and poker, two subjects that I would have conversed with him about before we broke up. Tonight, I realize how much I really don’t care about either of them and how many hours of my life I wasted trying to become interested for his benefit. He never learned about books or yoga for me.

Every now and then he seemed to realize it was a total one-way conversation and he’d slip in a question about Brady or my schooling. My answers were half-assed because I know he didn’t really want to know. He wanted to slip back into our normal routine, of him leading the relationship and me happily playing along, but that wasn’t happening. This dinner was for information or an end to his games.

Over the course of the past few months, things have changed. I’ve changed. I’ve had to get stronger, lean on myself more. And watching the power shift between the two of us, I like it. I’m sure part of the way I feel is having something to compare it to.

“Brynne? You ready?” he asks. He’s clearly enjoying the fact that there’s no bill to pay and I realize that he’s not even going to leave a tip. My annoyance creeps up through the bliss of seeing Fenton and I clench my jaw closed. I give him the benefit of the doubt and wait a few seconds, but he makes no move to get his wallet.

Grumbling, I grab my purse and fish out a few bills and plop them on the table. I want to get this over with and get out of here as quickly as possible.

I roll my eyes and stand, hoisting my purse on my shoulder. I wait for him to lead the way. When he doesn’t, I realize just how different things are now. I really have no idea what he’s been doing for the last few months, but I know one thing—I don’t really want to know. It doesn’t matter. Our story has ended and he isn’t going to tell us anything about Zimbabwe. He’s just wanting a companion and that’s not me. This ends now. His hold on me, in any form—Brady included—ends now.

“You ready?” he asks, moving around the table.

I head towards the door, Grant shuffling behind me.

“You want to come by my house?” he asks, completely unfazed by the events of the evening. His thumbs are jammed in the pockets of his jeans and I vaguely wonder if he’ll ask me to the movies like we’re sixteen.

“No, Grant.”

“But babe . . .”

I whirl around to face him. “No, Grant. No to your house, no to babe. No to everything.”

“Don’t tell me you’re done. That’s not fair. Everything I’ve done in my life is for you!”

“You fucked the blonde from the cantina for me. You lost my brother on another continent. Thanks. I really appreciate it.” I turn away and start through the door again. “Fuck you.”

“You can’t blame Brady on me! That was Mandla’s fault! Not mine!”

I pause and glance at him over my shoulder. “It was both your faults. Even if Mandla changed your orders that day, which they deny, you had a responsibility to me, to my family, to bring Brady home.”

“I tried! I did everything I could! You have to believe me, Brynne! I love Brady as much as you do. I would never have done anything to hurt him. Things over there just . . .” His eyes dart around, to me and then flick away just as quickly. His hand racing through his hair.

Maybe Dad was right. Maybe he is on the cusp of telling us something.

“Just what?” I probe.

“You just can’t understand it till you’ve been there. There’s so much that goes on.”

“But not responsibility to someone you love as much as I do. I get it.”

“You love me. I know you do,” he coaxes.

Just like that, his demeanor has changed. He’s playing a game, whatever it might be. There will be no truths tonight. Not from him, anyway.

I push my finger into his chest, my nail digging into his shirt. “You don’t know what love is, Grant. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have lied to me. You wouldn’t have cheated on me. You wouldn’t have taken my brother to Africa and put him in harm’s way! None of that is love, Grant. It’s nothing remotely similar to what love should look like!”

“I’m sorry, Brynne.”

“I bet you are.” A crack in my fury opens and I see the vulnerable guy I remember and my anger wanes. “Look, Grant, I know I’m blaming you for the world right now. But you deserve it for what you’ve done to me.”

“I know, Brynne. And fuck if I’m not sorry.”

“But as far as Brady,” I continue, ignoring his apology, “you know Mandla blames you. You know there’s this cloud of suspicion around you—”

“That’s bullshit!” he interrupts, his eyes wide. “I had nothing to do with that, Brynne. You have to know that!”

“I hope not. But you can’t blame me for wondering.”