Page 40 of Stirred Up

“Well excuse the fuck outa me! It’s not easy to figureout the rules—yourrules! I could have sworn there was something real here, Moe, so I put myself out there and you basically shot me down, right through the heart!P.S.maybe I can’t snap back into ‘just friends’ mode like you can. Maybe I wanna sit beside you and caress your back or—ahh!” He mocks a gasp. “Maybe I want to hold your little hand, no matter where we are or who’s watching.” His tone drops along with his face, anger suddenly morphed into hurt. “I just…I could’ve sworn you thought Brady and Moe was something different now too.”

Lowering my head on a sigh, I fight the anguished quivering in my chin. I never want to see him hurt and I never meant to cause it. “Listen, Brady, you’re my best friend and I miss you desperately but I’ve got something—” I stop, not wanting to delve into things in the middle of Ruby’s.

“Be. My. Date,” he growls lowly in my face.

My head’s shaking before I refuse verbally and he’s once again already sulking out, nearly ripping the door off when he shoves it open. I hate myself in this moment. My head falls back against the wall, my arms wrapping around myself, wanting to hide from the world. I don’t even noticethe tears until a voice asks, “You okay, Miss?”

I look up to find a waitress staring at me with nothing but pity. With an irate huff, I push off the wall. “Golden.”

It’s me that’s busting out their door next, ready to crawl back in bed and end this damn day.

****

A dress? You’d think that’d be simple enough to find, except I’ve been to half the shops in town and found not one. It isn’t helping that the event is tomorrow, and after spending the last few days going from work to home and straight to bed, I’m quickly running out of time and options.

Maybe I’m depressed, which seems ridiculous to me because only a few days earlier I was damn near giddy with the hand I’d been dealt—deliciously erotic doctor appointments—and now… Now everything is as fucked up as my dress hunt.

I need something that reflects the love and pride I have for Dylan. I’m standing in the last shop in town, begging the universe to show some mercy, when it does just that. I snatch the dress from the rack with a triumphant smile. It has a babydoll-style skirt, corsetedwaist, and plunging neckline in a gorgeous off-white with just a hint of silver highlighted throughout. It’s even more gorgeous when I see the price tag; I can afford new heels to match.

I head straight to the dressing room hoping it looks as good on me as it does the hanger when I hear my name.

“Addison?”

I turn toward the unfamiliar voice and see the brainy beauty, aka Brady’s last date, standing with a long gown in hand. Crap, what’s her name?

“Hi.” I grin a bit too much hoping it will cover the nameless slip.

“You don’t remember me?” She laughs softly, almost like music. No wonder Brady asked her out.

“No, I do! Brady brought you to dinner,” I say quickly, then confess. “Sorry, I’m horrible with names. It’s nothing personal.”

“It’s Ashley and don’t worry about it, I forget all the time.”

“Right, sorry, but you remembered mine, which means you’re just being polite right now or I left a memorable impression.” I pale as the words fall out, remembering whyshe’d have a lasting impression of me after my abrupt exit that night. “Look, sorry I up and left during the dinner, it’s just…”

“You don’t have to explain. And the reason I remember you so well is because Brady talks about you often. You two seem like close friends.”

My shoulders drop. “Yeah.” It’s barely a whisper.

“Love the dress. It’s gorgeous. I almost grabbed it for myself.” She nudges her head at my hands gripping the fabric.

“Thanks, you found a good choice…classic black.” The dress draped over her arm is long and screams graceful and timeless. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m guessing same as you. Dylan’s party tomorrow night.”

It’s a surreal moment, the kind where the air is ripped painfully from your lungs and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. With a spinning head and failing knees, I could swear an earthquake is pulsing under my feet.

She’s going to the party, which means Brady found a date. I retreat into the dressing room before I lose my sense in front of her and say something I’ll regret. They’lllook good together. Brady in a tux, her corralled in his arms…I can’t stomach the thought.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you there,” I say in an awkward huff, then quickly shut the dressing room door.

“Okay, yeah, bye,” I hear her say but I’m already squatted down on the floor, face in my hands, trying to block out the assaulting images of her and Brady together.

He deserves to be happy, I remind myself. I have to let him go, let him take the time he needs to be angry at me. Eventually he’ll see that “we” are too important to risk on a tryst. There can never be more, despite the flicker of hope and tearful musings of how extraordinary “more” would probably be warming my chest.

Chapter 15

I’m late. Only by five minutes or so, but still late to the most important night of my brother’s life. Guilt eats at me yet does little to quicken my pace.

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