“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.”
“Brynne, I . . .” He stumbles on his words, reaching for something to say when there isn’t anything he can say.
“Good luck, Grant. I mean that. I hope you figure your life out and end up in a good place . . . but tonight marks the end of any connection we’ve ever had. Don’t call me or lure me into meeting you. If you have something you want to say, call my Dad. I’m done.”
Turning away, I head towards the parking lot.
The walk to my car is quiet, the warm air billowing my hair behind me. I fill my lungs with air and let my heartbeat steady, relishing the sense of tranquility that’s washing over me. Not much was discovered at dinner, but one thing became crystal clear: the way I felt about Grant and the way I feel about Fenton couldn’t be any more different.
I climb in the car and back out of the space. My phone rings before I even put it in drive. I click the button on my bluetooth when I see Fenton’s name.
My plan was to play it cool, make him wait before caving to him. To his benefit, my body is still on a high from being around him, so I give in immediately. It’s not a fight I’m fit to win.
“Hey,” I say, my voice swollen with a smile.
“Are you okay?” His smooth tone wraps me up and makes me feel like he’s right beside me. Like he’s pulling me into one of his tight hugs.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m really asking, rudo. Are you really okay?”