Page 4 of A Me and Him Thing
Bad apples can’t change. Once they’re rotten, they’re bad to the core.
When I glance at the breathtaking view once again, my reflection in the dark window now sports bright red cheeks. It’s an improvement. Maybe someday I’ll have my entire face back. For now, it’s symbolic somehow. I disappeared for a while there. Now I’m slowly returning, coming back to life. But I curse my obvious reaction to the man in black. I don’t get visibly flusteredin action or speech—minus the debacle with Sawyer and Quinn—but he made me feel flustered on the inside.
His voice alone could fluster every female in the room.
The patrons at the next table are laughing and joking with him while praising the service and the food at this establishment. Why didn’t I do that?
When he makes his way to the next table, he glances back at me, a tinge of regret in his features.
My waiter brings me the dessert menu. What the heck? I might as well indulge. My mouth waters as I peruse the options. Oh my, the desserts are just as luscious as the entrées. I should choose the dainty little shot glass of chocolate mousse. But I don’t. I choose the delectable molten chocolate lava cake topped with strawberries.Go big or go home. Seize the day.And whatever other encouraging saying I can think of to boost my mood.
The man in black is several tables away from me now. I can’t help but watch him as he socializes with ease, making the patrons smile with his odd wit, half smile, velvety voice, and intense eyes. Such a strange combination. I’m intrigued.
I love a man who sees humor in life. I can’t imagine what it would be like to see the world through his eyes. It makes me think he must always look on the bright side, that he’s always cheerful, making the people around him smile. Yet he’s soft-spoken. I’m not sure how he pulls it off.
He’s dark and exotic looking. Maybe Italian in descent. He’s tall, with long legs, but he’s solid and not too skinny. There’s a slight wave in his thick hair, like he’s due for a trim to tame his mane. Otherwise, it’ll soon have a mind of its own.
I grab my phone with the intention of calling Quinn to tell her about my brief interaction with the man in black. I always tell her everything, and she’ll understand my fleeting fascinationwith him. I stop abruptly and place my phone back in my purse. We don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.
I miss her desperately. Now that I know she’s alive, now that she’s home, I still can’t act on my impulses to call her. The desire to share everything with her never went away, even when I thought she was dead.
I wish I hadn’t been so prickly toward the man in black. A flirty man doesn’t make me giggly. It never has. It’s as though one of my girl genes is missing. Instead, it makes me mad. I don’t know why. I’ve always been this way.
Hence, I dine alone, live alone, am alone. I sigh and return my attention to my new best friend.It’s you and me for life, Kindle.
Something needs to change.
I think it might be me.
“YOU PICKED MYfavorite. Great minds think alike.”
It’s him again. I’d recognize that soothing voice anywhere. I wish it was the sound I could fall asleep to every night. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but he dares to approach the prickly lady with the razor-sharp tongue again. Brave man.
There are only a few people left in the restaurant. I imagine closing time is near. I got lost in my book while enjoying the sounds of life around me. I guess I’m ready to face my quiet townhome now. It feels like an abyss I’ll get lost in, though. I’m in no hurry.
“Sometimes a great mind doesn’t think at all and consumes large amounts of chocolate.” My table is now empty, other than a stomach-settling mug of herb tea.
“My motto in life is never pass up an opportunity to have dessert. Then I can say I’m a man who truly lived,” he says, spoken as though he just quoted a love poem.
“A consoling thought when you die early from obesity.” A joke coming from my mouth sounds sarcastic, no matter how hard I try.
“There’s something to be said for dying happy.”
“I’m not sure what,” I say dryly.
He places his hands in his pockets again and rocks back on his heels. He knows he’s banging his head on a brick wall.
There I go again. I don’t know why I’m acting unpleasant when he’s just being friendly, doing his job. I guess my walls are up, and every guard is standing at attention. I’m a fortress. Maybe I should unlock at least one door and let a little light in. Or just crack a window.
Try harder, Bree.
“Can I get you anything else, ma’am?”
“Oh please, ma’am was my mother. Call me Bree.” Some call me Breezy. I now hate that name.
“Bree it is. I’m Ren. Ren Chambers.”
“Ren?” Ren with the gorgeous voice, dark eyes, and strange humor. I’ll dream of him tonight.
