Page 24 of Broken Dreams
“I’ll drink to that.”
Her blue eyes fill with emotion, and I reach out, resting my hand on hers. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“This wasn’t supposed to be how this went.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had a plan, you know? I was going to start dating again, and I thought I would meet a nice guy who would want to at least be a friend to start. Someone I could share things with and who wasn’t unwilling to grow up, married, or a total creep who probably would’ve...” She shudders. “Well, it’s been a very interesting ride so far, and not a good one.”
“At least you wanted this,” I say with a laugh. “I was totally fine being single, but my sister insisted on pushing me to date.”
“What do you mean?” Addison asks.
“The investors I’m meeting with, they do a lot of schmoozing, and it requires dinners and parties. They have made it very clear they like to give money to men who are in committed relationships. They invest in families, and the significant others play a large role in their inner sanctum.”
“How so?”
“Mainly, they have a lot of parties where the spouses attend and it’s highly frowned upon to fly solo. I’ve yet to find a single guy at any of the meetings I’ve gone to. I’ve also been turned down by pretty much everyone I met with.”
She sits back, shaking her head. “Wow. So no date, no money?”
“Basically. So, while you’re ready to move on and get out there, I’m not. I don’t want a girlfriend or date or any of this shit. I just want to start my company and give Jett a stable life.”
I have said more to this woman than I have even said to my family about this. Which is freaking insane. I don’t know why I’m telling her any of it, but she’s so fucking easy to talk to.
“Is it because of Lisa?”
I sigh, hating that once again, I want to tell her the truth. “Yes and no. It’s been over three years, and I still miss her. I think about how she would know what to do with Jett’s daycare meltdowns or she’d never screw up by buying the wrong big boy underwear. She’d have known. She’d have...gotten it right. She’d want me to move on, but it’s not about what she wants since she left me alone to figure it out.”
Addison leans forward, her hand resting on my forearm. “She didn’t leave you willingly, Grady.”
“Maybe not, but she’s not here.”
“I was really angry with Isaac, too, who was shot saving his sister. For a while, I grappled with the fact that, had he not stepped in, we would’ve lost Brielle, who he loved with his whole heart. His sister was his best friend after me.”
I understand that completely. I would die for Brynlee—any of us would. “He was a good brother.”
“But he was my husband, and I needed him. I also understand it, because if he hadn’t stepped in and Brielle was killed, he never would’ve been able to live with himself. But I was still mad for a period of time. It took me this long to finally be ready to consider another man touching me.” We both take a sip and she leans back, one hand resting on the bar. “I just thought it might be better than this.”
“I’m sorry. There’s no reason you can’t find the right guy.”
“Thank you, Grady. I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome. Why did you want to start dating again?”
Addison runs her finger along the top of her glass before meeting my eyes, and I have to remind myself to breathe when she does. “I have a wedding in Oregon that I’m in. I refuse to go back home without a date. I have spent three years getting over the loss of my husband, and I finally feel ready. The wedding was just the catalyst because I don’t want to be the widow anymore. I want to be Addison to them, and whenever I’m in Rose Canyon, I’m not. I’m Isaac’s wife, the one who lost everything, and it’s pity everywhere. So much that it’s stifling. I love them all, and they mean well, but I have learned to move forward, and they’re stuck in the past.”
“You thought bringing home a date would change that?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, but I hoped they’d see me as a person again. It’s stupid, and it seems I’m going to have to hire an escort.”
We both laugh. “I don’t think it’ll come to that.”
She shrugs. “A girl can hope, but at this rate, the prospects aren’t looking so good.”
“Come on, surely we can find someone here,” I say, joking but also not.
I scan the crowd of people, dancing, laughing, having a good time. A group is line dancing in the center, there are wannabe cowboys leaning against the bar that goes around the dance floor, and women hanging on them as they pretend we’re in Montana, not Pennsylvania.
