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I MADE A FEW MORE TRIPS back to my apartment to get things. It was like moving out in reverse; now I was moving back in. I collected a few more outfits, a few utensils and plates and cups, and all my art supplies.
Setting up an easel in my loft above the garage felt like I had come home. There was something magical about Corey’s place that no prefabricated two-bedroom apartment could compete with.
Drawing the curtains aside, I was treated to a view of the driveway and the barn. In the distance, trees crowded the horizon, and the eggshell blue of the sky inspired me. I tried a few different things without settling on an image I wanted to paint.
My best work was done from memory, and though I’d left most of my completed works back at my apartment, I brought a few to give me some ideas. There was Brad in a baseball uniform, and Brad asleep on the sofa. A silhouetted version of Brad stared out over a setting sun with the Eiffel Tower in the background. That was by far my favorite. It seemed that I had a muse, and he was the one person I didn’t want to think about at the moment.
Wednesday seemed so far away, and I couldn’t help but build up our anticipated meeting to gigantic proportions. He wanted me to talk to his brother so that Alec could make amends for attacking me. I didn’t really care about Alec. He had been drunk at the time, and nothing had actually happened. I’d managed to escape before he kissed me, and other than a surge of adrenaline and a healthy dose of indignation, I had emerged unscathed. What I really wanted to do was see Brad again, and if I had to forgive Alec in the process, I didn’t mind.
I tried a bit of this and a bit of that, anything that didn’t involve the Miller boys, but the effort was futile. I couldn’t think of a single thing to paint besides my boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend? I still wasn’t sure where we stood. If I took Brad’s last statement at face value, then that meant accepting that we had no real future. If I leaned toward my own hopes and dreams instead, then this was just a bump in the road, and a true reconciliation was indeed possible.
I tried painting the barn, but it came off stiff and boring. I switched canvasses and tried to paint the sky, but there wasn’t enough subject matter to anchor the design, and so it fell flat. I wasn’t going to give up, but I needed to take a break.
Walking downstairs, I joined Corey in the barn.
“How are you doing?” he asked genially.
“Okay,” I responded, climbing up onto one of two stools that stood beside the workbench.
“Have you been painting?” He pointed a block of wood at my jeans.
“How did you know?” I gasped.
“Because you’ve got paint all over you,” he teased.
“I want to thank you for—” I started.
“Don’t.” He held up the block like a preacher throwing a Hail Mary. “You’re welcome here any time.”
Waking up on Tuesday morning, I immediately thought of Brad. It was his court date with Nikki, and I wondered if he was feeling even half of the anxiety I’d felt when it was my turn on the grill. Probably not. He had tried to explain that lawsuits were not uncommon when you reached a certain level of success. If that’s what it took to be a billionaire, I wasn’t sure if I wanted any part of it.
Sighing, I pulled the sheets up over my head and tried to go back to sleep. It didn’t work very well. I pressed my eyes closed and breathed in the hot darkness, but my mind kept whispering to me: Brad, Brad, Brad.
With a groan of frustration, I threw the covers off and got up. I still had the outfit that I’d worn to court myself, the dress that had ended up on Brad’s living room floor. Without overthinking it, I slipped into the dowdy old thing and brushed my hair. Wednesday was right around the corner, but I couldn’t wait. I needed to make sure that Brad was okay.
I drove to the courthouse, arguing with myself the entire way.
He’ll be glad to see you.
No, he won’t.
He needs support.
No, he doesn’t.
The entire drive was one long torture of self-doubt, but I never did turn around. I didn’t pull off at any of the dozen or so coffee shops I passed along the way. I didn’t take my foot off the gas except when I came to a red light.
Arriving at the courthouse at around ten, I wondered if I was too late. I knew they got an early start, and if Brad’s appointment was anything like mine, they would have defendants lining the halls as soon as the doors opened.
I parked anyway, wondering if I would even catch sight of him. I had no idea which of the many rooms he was assigned to, and I didn’t feel like wandering the halls like some lost fool. This was a bad idea. I nearly swiped right by the first available parking spot and kept going. It would be a long ride back to Corey’s place, but at least my dignity would be intact.
Narrowing my eyes, I forced myself to continue on my chosen path. I left my cell phone in the glove compartment and grabbed my purse. Striding purposefully toward the courthouse, I resolved to figure it out as I went.
Luck was with me because as soon as I rounded the corner, I spotted Brad on the front steps. My heart froze. I didn’t know what to do. I had come all this way to support him, and yet faced with the reality of his presence, all I wanted to do was run and hide.
He was about twenty yards away, and he hadn’t seen me yet. A second man, dressed in a suit and tie, came up behind him. They chatted for half a second, and I could see Brad smile. The two shook hands before the stranger walked away. I was thinking lawyer because the possibility that he had run into an unrelated business partner was absurd.
I inhaled forcefully, shoring myself up to make small talk. I could just tell him the truth, that I wanted to make sure he was okay. Then I would make up an excuse to hightail it out of there and wait until tomorrow for our regularly scheduled visit. Moving forward, I was surprised when a second man approached my potentially ex-boyfriend. This man didn’t rate a smile.
They didn’t shake hands, and there was no sign that either of them was enjoying the interaction. I couldn’t imagine who it might be. Brad’s stance became adversarial; I could read it in the way he hung his shoulders. Quickening my pace, I felt sure that he needed my help.
As I marched up the steps, neither one of them spared me a second glance. They were locked into a staring match, neither one of them backing down. It took me a few moments to realize who the second man was. It was Nick Pierce, the man who had run Retro for years before Brad took over.
I’d worked underneath Nick for a long time, though we had little direct contact. When he was head of the company, I was the executive assistant to the VP of design. My office had been on the other side of the building, two floors down.
I pulled back, wondering if he would recognize me. The sudden movement caused both men to stiffen, turning toward me in unison. I spared a tight smile for Nick; force of habit. He shot one back at me, clearly confused.
“Mr. Miller,” I said formally, turning to Brad. If Nick didn’t recognize me, and Brad was uncomfortable speaking with him, I took it upon myself to rescue him. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s an urgent matter for you to attend to.”
Confusion flashed through Brad’s eyes before he realized what I was doing. “Yes,” he muttered thoughtfully, turning back to his adversary. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Think about what I said,” Nick responded, swallowing my deception without another thought.
Brad didn’t dignify that with an answer, coming down the stairs to join me at the bottom. He touched my elbow in a professional way, encouraging me to walk with him down the sidewalk.
“Where’s your car?” he asked, his voice hushed and hurried.
“In the parking garage,” I said.
Brad turned without another word, putting as much distance between him and Retro’s previous owner as possible without looking like he was in retreat. We walked back to the parking garage in silence, his stride so long I had to hurry to keep up.
As soon as the cement walls closed around us, Brad pulled me into an embrace. I was shocked by the gesture but quickly melted as his lips met mine. It was the best possible outcome, though we still hadn’t talked through anything.
The motion was brief but meaningful. As soon as he released me, he broke into a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to support you,” I said breathlessly.
“Thank goodness for that,” he replied. “I wonder if you can give me a ride back to Retro’s offices. I left my car there.”
“Sure,” I agreed, happy to have another few minutes with him. “What did Nick Pierce want?”
“I’ll tell you later,” he promised.
“Okay,” I relented, though my curiosity was brimming.
I showed Brad to my car, clicking the button to open all the doors. He slid into the passenger seat as if it were the most natural thing in the world, giving me half a second to myself. I put a hand on the hood, feeling dizzy. The whole experience had been a whirlwind of emotions. First confusion, then more confusion, then finally, exalted confusion. I stuck a smile to my face and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Would you like to get lunch?” I asked, hoping to keep the eagerness from my voice.
“It’s a little early for lunch,” he replied.
“Then coffee?” I shot back, desperate to hang on to this newly found connection.
“Sure,” he agreed.
I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that I had a few more minutes to spend in his company. Easing my way out of the parking structure, I chose a chain restaurant that was on the way to my old job.
We walked inside, not holding hands but not putting any unwanted distance between our bodies either. Anyone looking at us would probably assume that we were together, and why shouldn’t they? I had proven that we were a good match. Without fully understanding the situation, I’d done exactly what he’d hoped I would do. We were co-conspirators in some mysterious plan, and it felt good.
“I’ll have a chai tea,” I ordered.
“Coffee, black,” Brad said.
We took our seats and waited for our beverages. By the time the barista brought them over, I was dying to hear the rest of the story.
