by Audra Cole
Making up is definitely my favorite part of arguing with Brandon.
Chapter Six
I wake up the next morning and roll over to find that Brandon has already left. Most days he gets up early to go running and then hits the gym. He does some Ironman, Spartan, look-like-a-superhero-in-a-week kind of crazy workout five days a week. I went with him once, but couldn’t even begin to keep up. It was pretty pathetic actually.
I decided to stick with my normal routine. Most of the time I go jogging three times a week, sometimes with Ashley after I get off work, and then do a handful of yoga poses afterwards. If it is particularly nasty outside, I will go to the gym and do the elliptical machine. I’ve never been skinny, but I try to stay in shape and eat healthy. I’m okay with the fact that I’ll never be able to rock a string bikini or wear booty shorts with any sort of confidence.
I have a rare half-day and don’t have to be to work until ten, so Ashley and I planned to get together for a quick jog. We haven’t seen each other in a few days, because she has been super busy with a few craft fairs to get some exposure for her newest line of jewelry.
I roll out of bed and just barely manage to wrestle the girls into a sports bra—which is half the battle—when there is a pounding on the door. I head out of my bedroom and jog downstairs, pulling my shirt on as I go.
I open the door and Ashley barges inside. I’m always amazed, and slightly sickened, that even in her workout clothes she looks like a model. Her house and car consistently look like stage five disaster zones, and yet she always manages to look like she fell out of a magazine ad for some super trendy store I wouldn’t even know the name of…
“Morning!” she chirps. I see she’s already started her caffeinating for the day, her hand firmly gripping a travel mug.
“Hey,” I mumble as I start to rummage through Brandon’s pile of shoes by the door. “I overslept. I just gotta get my socks and shoes.”
She smiles and sips her coffee. “Up late last night?” she says, with a wink.
“Perhaps…” I answer, offering a coy smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep your secrets,” Ashley says, before draining her coffee. “Can I get a refill?”
I glance around the corner, into the kitchen. Sometimes Brandon makes a pot before he leaves, but this morning it’s empty. “Sorry Ash, I don’t have any made. I’ll make us some when we get back. You know, you really should switch to water. I don’t know anyone else who drinks coffee when they jog. That can’t be good for you.”
“Coffee is mostly water,” she objects.
I shake my head. She really is hopeless sometimes.
I finish lacing up my shoes and we head out the front door. I don’t lock up, in case Brandon gets back before we do. I haven’t gotten around to getting him a copy of the key. We warm up and then head off down the street at a comfortable pace. Ashley runs every day, and has done a few half marathons. I secretly think she takes it down a few notches when I’m with her.
“How did the jewelry show go?” I ask.
“It was really good! I got a few orders and made some new contacts. There’s actually a shop in Seattle that wants to sell my line.”
“That’s incredible! Congratulations.”
“Thanks! It’s crazy, and it’s going to get crazier. In a good way, of course. But, what I really want to know, is what’s been going on with you and Mr. Movie Star.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Must you call him that? It’s not like I’m going to forget.” I don’t know why the nickname bothers, me but something about it annoys me.
“Fine, fine, no more. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Things are going well. We had a bit of a disagreement last night, but I think we got it sorted out. We’re actually going to have dinner with his parents tonight.”
“That should be interesting after all this time. What was the argument about last night?”
I recap the conversation for her as we continue up the street and start to round the corner where we normally start to head back.
She frowns. “What happens if you don’t go? To California?”
“I don’t know. I mean he says we’d find a way to make it work. I’d fly there, he’d fly here, and we’d take long weekends together whenever we can. I suppose it’s possible, but certainly not an ideal situation, at least not long-term, and I don’t see him giving up acting anytime soon. I guess it feels like I technically have a choice to make, but not really.”
“Basically, if you want to stay together, you have to go?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, do you want to go?”
“Part of me thinks it would be fun, an adventure. And I’d be with Brandon. But the other part of me just wants to stay here and have things stay like this. I think, in some ways, my heart is still set on the life that we had planned out three years ago. Before he called off the engagement and got famous. We could have been married, bought a house on a piece of land, and had a couple of babies by now.”
“A couple?” Ashley says, arching an eyebrow. “That’s ambitious.”
“Ok, a baby,” I laugh.
She laughs too. “You may want that, but I think you both know that it just isn’t possible. You can’t have the simple, small-town life. Not anymore. Brandon’s not going to give up his career, and you probably wouldn’t want him to, even if he offered.”
“I know.”
We’re silent for a while as we finish the final stretch of the run.
“You know I don’t want you to leave, but I think you should,” Ashley says as we flop onto my front steps. “You’re happier when he’s around. I love ya, babe, but I really don’t wanna relive your ‘woe is me, I hate the world’ phase again. It wasn’t very pretty last time,” she says with a laugh.
My mouth drops and I try to give her my best wounded look, acting offended, but she just keeps laughing. I shove her playfully and laugh with her. As my best friend, she has earned the right to make fun of my sweatpants, perma-bed head, and Ben & Jerry’s for breakfast phase.
I wince. She’s right—it hadn’t been pretty.
“I don’t know what I’ll do in California. I mean I’ve never even been there before!”
It’s not the physical place that worries me. In truth, I’ve always thought it sounds like a nice place to live. Especially when you consider the seemingly endless rainy season that the Seattle area is famous for. Sunshine, palm trees, and warm beaches sound irresistible. I just don’t relish the thought of being uprooted. I didn’t even like moving away to go to college, and that was only a few hours from home.
“That’s the beauty of it Charity. You can do whatever you want!” she says with a sparkle in her eyes. “You’d have all the money and time you need to find whatever it is you want to do. You can do your cookbook and become so famous that they offer you your own cooking show, and you’ll launch a whole line of pans and baking sheets. Pretty soon Brandon and you will be the ultimate Hollywood power couple and you will take over the city!” Ashley concludes, complete with ridiculous, over-the-top hand gestures.
I laugh and shake my head at her theatrics. What would I do without her?
“Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? If it totally sucks, you can come home again and figure something else out,” she adds.
“Gee, thanks Ash. That’s…inspiring.” I wrinkle my nose at her.
“I’m not sayin’ you guys would break up. Just that home isn’t that far away—a few hours on a plane. It’s not like you’re moving to a third-world country or something.”
I nod. She’s right. I wouldn’t even have to sign a lease. If it doesn’t work, we could go to plan B.
“I’m going to miss you like crazy.” She’s suddenly serious, as if sensing my mind has already been made up.
I turn to her and she looks as though she’s about to cry. Ashley very rarely cries and I know that if she starts I won’t be able to stop myself. Then we’ll both be a mess.
“
I’ll miss you too.”
She nods and gives me a quick hug before standing and pulling me up along with her. “All right, now you promised me coffee!” She wipes at her eyes before turning to go inside.
Chapter Seven
Ashley stays for a cup of coffee, and then heads out so I can get ready for work. I make it to the café just before ten and see that there’s a line out the door, which is very strange for a weekday at ten. I push my way inside, look behind the counter, and it clicks why we’re so stacked up; the new girl, Jennifer, is manning the espresso machine and taking orders all alone.
I look around for the owner, Heidi, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I spring into action and take over making the drinks, while I direct Jennifer to take orders and handle the register. Within a few minutes we have things handled and the line shuffles through without any further hiccups.
“Thanks, Charity! You just saved me from a very public panic attack,” Jennifer says, wiping her brow after the last customer heads out the door.
“No problem. Where’s Heidi?”
“Her son is sick, so she had to go get him from school.”
I nod, knowing I’ll have to stay and close up the shop. I don’t even have to call to find out for sure. It’s just an unsaid rule. I’m basically second in command since I’ve been here the longest . The responsibility falls on me by default.
The whole scenario gets me thinking about what will happen if—or, I guess, when—I leave to go to California in a couple of months. Who is going to be here to take my place?
I know that it’s not my responsibility. It’s not my business, so I really shouldn’t care. They’ll figure something out. Yet I can’t help but wonder…and feel a little guilty.
I’ve been at the café for the past three years. It fell into my lap after I moved back home from college. When Brandon ended our engagement, I kind of turned into a zombie and stopped caring about anything, school included. The owner, Heidi, knows my mom and offered to let me work here. It’s been a good thing for me—never glamorous or particularly fulfilling—but it pays the bills and offered me a routine and a sense of stability back when I had needed it the most.
I try to shake off the anxiety and go about my daily tasks.
Brandon comes in for lunch around one o’clock and takes a seat at one of the tables in the corner. He’s wearing a baseball cap, has his ear buds in, and is messing with something on his phone.
I walk over and melt a little when he turns and smiles at me. Even though I grew up with him and have been in love with him most of my life, he can still stun me with his smile.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greets me, removing the headphones. He holds out an arm and pulls me close, nuzzling my neck, which is at the perfect height for him in his tall chair at the bistro-style table. “How’s it going here?”
I shrug. “Not bad. But my boss’s kid is sick, so unfortunately, that means I’m stuck here till closing.”
“That sucks. Should I reschedule dinner?” he asks.
“No, I’ll have time to get ready.”
“Good. Do you have time to make a sandwich for your favorite customer?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me playfully. “I hear he’s a great tipper.”
“Who said you were my favorite customer?” I tease.
“Well I just assumed…given the level of, personal service, I’ve been getting,” he says suggestively. “I gotta be somewhere near the top of the list.”
I laugh, enjoying the light of mischief in his eyes. He clearly finds himself very amusing. “All right, fine, you’re my favorite!”
“Good. In that case, I’ll take a Reuben with light dressing, and a side salad instead of the chips.” He hands me his menu.
“High maintenance…” I tease, tsk’ing under my breath. “You do know that you order like a girl?”
“Hey now! It takes sacrifice to keep the money-maker in shape.” He pats his abs, which I know—from up close, and personal inspection—are not airbrushed onto his movie posters.
“Yes, sir! Coming right up,” I say with a mock salute.
He playfully slaps my ass when I turn to start back towards the doors to the small kitchen. I look back and blow him a kiss before disappearing behind the door.
I return with his sandwich a few minutes later. The combo of sauerkraut and dressing smells revolting to me, but it’s one of Brandon’s favorites. I just hope he realizes there will be no kisses until he’s had a breath mint. Or better yet, brushes his teeth. There are some things even a breath mint can’t help. Looking at the sandwich, I decide this is probably one of them.
I told Jennifer I would be taking my break, so I hoist myself into the seat across from him after setting down his lunch. I pull a bottle of juice out of my apron pocket and pop it open.
“Thanks, Cherry. I was starving,” he says between bites.
“Anything for my favorite customer.” I wink.
“Anything?” he asks with a devilish grin. He grabs me around the hips and pulls me into him. “Cause I would love to fuck you right here, right now.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying. That black skirt makes me crazy.” He runs his eyes over my body, and I feel myself getting hot from head to toe.
“Well, I do have some news that should make you happy,” I segue. “I’ve decided to move to California with you.”
Brandon’s face shifts, his lust melting away and he breaks into a surprised smile. “Are you serious?”
I nod, smiling too.
“When did you decide all this?”
“Today, when I was jogging with Ashley,” I answer.
“Ashley convinced you?” His eyebrow is raised in suspicion.
“She didn’t convince me. She just helped me see that it’s not as scary as I might have made it out to be.”
“Wow, well remind me to buy her a thank you gift!” he says with a laugh. He wipes off his hands and reaches across the table to take mine. “In all seriousness, I’m happier than you can even imagine, and I promise it’s going to be amazing.”
I nod, my eyes starting to tear up, hoping with every fiber of my being that he is right.
“I guess I don’t need to bribe you since you’ve already agreed to come, but I brought you a little something.”
I wipe my fingers off on my napkin and lean forward expectantly as he slides a slim black book across the table to me. I hadn’t even noticed it sitting there before. I push my drink out of the way and glance up at his excited face, before pulling back the cover.
Inside, the glossy pages are filled with pictures of food.
“What is this?” I ask, completely confused.
“Well, this is Emelia Winter’s portfolio. She is a pretty well-known food photographer from LA. She has done stuff for print ads, television shows, magazines, you name it. I’ve been emailing back and forth with her about your cookbook. And if you want, she can come to the house and do all the photographs for you when you’re ready.”
My mouth flops open. “You did this for me?”
“Yes, I mean I know you have been doing the photos yourself so far, and the ones I’ve seen are great. Really. But I thought this would be a little better quality than what you can get with your camera and it might be a nice project for you to work on once you get settled.”
I am stunned. I had mentioned the cookbook idea to him a few times and had shown him a few of my ideas, but we never really talked about it at length. I didn’t know he realized how important it is to me. In some ways, maybe I didn’t even realize how important it is until right now, seeing all these beautiful photos in front of me and dreaming of someday having a collection of my own.
“Thank you so much, Brandon. This is amazing. I really don’t know what else to say,” I whisper, reverently flipping through the pages again as I soak it all in.
I guess Ashley’s theory was right. Hollywood here I come!
Chapter Eight
“Cherry? You almost ready to go?” Brandon calls up the stairs.
“Aren’t you used to long wait times for makeup and wardrobe?” I call back down with a laugh. I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
“Very funny! Just remember, we’re not going to the Oscars. It’s just my parents’ house.” I can hear the happiness in his voice.
I sigh, flick off the lights, and stand still in the darkness for a moment. Steadying myself, I take a deep breath before turning to leave and go downstairs. It’s not that I don’t want to see his family, I do. I think my hesitation comes from not wanting to leave this comfortable little bubble we’ve been living in for the past month, where it’s just us and there are no other…complications.
Brandon lets out an appreciative whistle when I get to the bottom of the stairs. “Worth the wait.” He grins.
I laugh and look down. After a few outfit changes I decided to wear dark-wash jeans, my black boots, and a red top that has a few sparkly details on the front and side.
“I’m not sure this is really a whistle-worthy outfit, but thank you.”
“Anything you wear is whistle-worthy. So, you ready for this?” he asks as he helps me into my jacket.
I nod. “Yep!”
He kisses my forehead. “Thank you so much for doing this.” His voice is thick with emotion. “It really means a lot to me and to my family.”
“I’m looking forward to it, and I’m sorry I made such a big deal about it before.”
“It’s all right. I understand.” He takes my hand and we head out the front doors.
His parents live just across town, so it only takes a few minutes to arrive. As we pull into the driveway, a wave of emotions washes over me. It’s been years since I was last here, but I can still remember everything. It was the night before the wedding. His parents had hosted a big barbeque for everyone in the wedding party and both sides of the family for our casual rehearsal dinner.
The night everything fell apart.
Even though we’re back together again, the memories of the past still sting sometimes. Things are different now, and we can never go back to being those people. We can never have the life we were planning back then.
