Page 81 of Legally Mine

Chapter 18

Brandon left early the next morning for one of his six a.m. runs. Although I knew he wouldn't like it, I couldn't sleep after he left, so I ended up getting dressed and heading back to the North End, where I spent the rest of the weekend holed up studying. We traded a few texts through the morning, but it was clear that both of us needed some space. Things had gotten very real.

As much as I wanted it to, the comfort and lightness that had always seemed such an integral part of our relationship still hadn't returned completely. Darker elements loomed. We craved each other, but there were pains we were both trying to purge with our bodies instead of words. The truth was, we had both hurt the other badly. It would simply take time to work through all of the complications.

Late Sunday afternoon, while I was finishing my weekend homework, my cell phone buzzed loudly on my desk. It seemed that Brandon was finally ready for a real conversation. That was good, because so was I.

"What's up?" I answered.

"Nothing much. Just finishing up some things for a few meetings tomorrow. I needed to catch up on a lot of stuff this weekend."

It was an unspoken acknowledgment of the fact that I'd left early Saturday morning and he had been fine with it. I missed the days when I would camp out at his house for days at a time, but we clearly weren't there yet.

"Anyway, I had a thought," Brandon said.

I pulled my knees up onto my chair and rested my chin on them. "What's that?" I asked, happy to hear the fondness in his voice. His texts through the weekend had been friendly and flirtatious, but nothing matched his deep voice.

"Sterling Grove is sponsoring a few tables at the New England Children's Advocacy Gala next Saturday. Want to go?"

I sat up straight. This was a far cry from sneaking into hole-in-the-wall restaurants. This was the same group I'd mentioned to Ray and Susan the other night. It was the center of his philanthropy efforts, one of the only things that I had found on his Wikipedia page before we had even dated.

"You want to go to a benefit together?"

My heart rose at the thought. Maybe it wasn't as important to keep me hidden as he'd originally thought. I was already so heartily sick of being incognito, I would have accompanied him to a party even if I was only allowed to wear pajamas.

Brandon sighed audibly on the other end of the line. In the background, I could hear the noise of what sounded like a baseball game on television. I could see him easily, sitting on his uncomfortable couch watching the game on the flat screen mounted over the fireplace. Alone in his palace in the sky.

"Ah, well. Sort of," he said lamely. "I was thinking Eric could bring you as his date. I'll have Margie throw him a ticket at one of the firm's tables."

I deflated.

"What does that mean?" I asked as I hugged my knees closer. "How would we go together if you can't be seen with me?"

"Skylar," Brandon said gently. "It's two weeks until the papers get signed."

"I've heard that before," I mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. Like the rest of my apartment, it was old, the one part of the room I hadn't tackled with paint. Cracks ran through the plaster.

"Skylar. I'm trying here."

I sighed. "I know, I know. I just...why should I even go, then? Having to be around you and pretend like we're not involved sounds like a terrible way to spend the evening. I see how women look at you, even when you're practically all over me. This will drive me nuts."

"It's not going to be like that," Brandon insisted. "I know it's not ideal, but the NECA is a really important cause to me. I'm on the board of directors, and it's one of the top charities I support."

I glanced at myself in the mirror curiously. "Just how many charities do you support?"

"Um...twenty-eight? I think? I'd have to ask Margie to be sure. I'm only on the board of five, though."

I blew a long raspberry between my lips. "How did I end up with a married saint?"

"Not a saint, Red. Just a sinner trying to redeem himself."

"How very Catholic of you," I replied dryly.

"Half of Boston is Catholic, babe. Even if you're not in the church, you're still practically confirmed just by association."

I snorted, but the joke fell flat.

“I’m not a perfect man, Skylar,” Brandon said, his voice slightly sad.

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