The urge to tell him that Dad has them in his back pocket is overwhelming. Instead, I smile at his broad back as he strolls to the door, his navy boxer briefs exposed at his waist. “Pull up your pants!”
I get a middle finger in answer. “Oh, and just so you know, Dad wouldn’t mind at all if you were bangin’ Madden.”
“Oh, my God. Good night!” I hiss, throwing the dish towel at his head, missing him completely. He ducks out the door with a laugh.
I wander over to retrieve the rag, shaking my head and feeling the flush in my cheeks as I push reality aside and allow myself to dream again, even for just another moment.
Me and Brett.
Brett and me.
My fingers lift to graze my lips, remembering the feel of his on them. He kissed me on Wednesday night. It was fleeting, but it was still a kiss.
And the way he was looking at me through that entire interview . . .
I don’t know how much time I lost in that daydream, but I went deep enough that I jump when a knock lands on my door. It’s followed by a second, and a quick third, and an “I know you’re in there, Cath!”
I should have known that Misty wouldn’t be brushed off so easily this time.
The moment I open the door, she pushes past me, her orange Diamonds uniform carrying with it the faint waft of coffee grinds and fried food. Hawk is standing at the bottom of the steps, offering me an apologetic shrug, even as his eyes trail after her.
“Coming straight from work?”
She tosses her purse on the couch. “Have you talked to him since the interview?”
“No.”
“So call him.”
“I can’t call him right now!” The fact that he hasn’t messaged yet speaks volumes. He must be feeling the exact same way I do: awkward.
“I knew you would be like this!” Misty’s eyes, already enormous, look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. “You have Brett freaking Madden drooling all over you on national television and you’re going to pretend like it’s nothing.”
“It’s just a story. It’s not real!” Even still, my heart leaps at her words.
“I can almost hear your mother’s voice when you say that.” She rolls her eyes at me. “I know what I just saw on TV and that was a guy who is infatuated with you.”
“Maybe . . . For now.”
Her groan of exasperation is loud enough to wake Brenna, I’m afraid.
“Why are you so angry with me?” As ditzy and bubbly as Misty can be, in the rare moment that she has a bone to pick, she doesn’t mince words. I’m almost afraid to hear what might come out of her mouth.
“Because I know you, Cath. You won’t give this a chance, even if you want to. You push away every guy who ever shows any interest.”
“What guys?”
“Exactly! You don’t even notice them! And now Brett Madden is majorly into you and you’ve basically scared him away.”
“What?” I can’t help but laugh. “No, I haven’t.”
She folds her arms over her ample chest in that condescending way. “Do you realize how many times you said that you just want everything to go back to normal during that interview?”
“Because I do?”
“ ‘Normal’ doesn’t include Brett. It will never include him. You basically told him you don’t want him in your life. Is that what you really want?”
No, that tiny voice screams inside my head. I think back to our goodbye two nights ago. I’ll make sure you get your life back, if that’s what you want. He did say that, and that questioning look that came along with it . . . Is that what he meant?
But he also said that he needed to clear his head, that he wasn’t thinking straight.
Staying far away is for the best.
I sigh. Explaining this to Misty will be impossible, though. There’s no point even trying. “I need to be smart.”
She shakes her head. “If this is being smart, then you need to be stupid. Be an absolute idiotic moron. Be like me.”
I’m flipping through my sketchbook when my phone chirps. I scramble for it, holding my breath against hope that it’s not Misty, messaging me with yet more grief. As if I didn’t get an earful from her already tonight.
My heart skips a beat when I see Brett’s name.
They promised us they’d spin a positive story, but I didn’t see that coming.
I chew my thumbnail, trying to decide how I should respond. It’s been two hours since the interview aired, and he’s only messaging now. Does he sound bothered by what they said? Finally I decide on:
Yeah. They definitely spun a story.
I anxiously watch the three dots dance on my screen, telling me Brett’s typing.
Simone thinks it’ll blow over fast enough, but she’s already working on killing it.
An unexpected wave of disappointment floods me. Obviously, that’s what he wants. To kill the idea that the two of us would ever be together. And why does it even bother me so much that Kate Wethers insinuated something might happen between Brett and me? Is it because it’s not true?
Or because I wish it was?
I can’t think of any answer except Okay, so I type that out.
We’ll fix this, trust me.
With a heavy sigh, I set my phone aside.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I go back to work at Diamonds.
Tomorrow, I face whatever shit storm this is going to produce.
Because I’ve been here before and the only way to get past it is to just try to forget and move on.
Chapter 17
“Fries or salad with that?” I stand with my pen to pad, poised, waiting for Beverly to make up her mind.
“Oh, I think I’ll have . . .” Her crooked finger is on the side salad options that come with the burger, as if she’s seriously considering them. She does this every time she comes in with her husband for -dinner on Sunday night. “Fries,” she finally whispers, as if afraid to admit she wants the unhealthier option.
I pretend to add it to the order, though I’ve already penciled it in. “Coming right up.”
“Thank you, dear. Oh, and I saw you on the news.” Every wrinkle on the woman’s eighty-something-year-old face lifts with her grin. “You were so wonderful for saving that young man.”
I offer her a small nod and smile, the one I’ve perfected in the last two days of being back to work, along with the standard “I just did what anyone would have done.” If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that, I’d have enough to pay rent this month and maybe next.
“Are things back to normal for you?”