Afterthoughts: A Charity McAdams Novella (The Charity McAdams Novellas) (7 page)

Brandon’s parents live a little ways out of town but I know the area well. I cannot even count the number of times I have been there. If I close my eyes I can see every last detail. The long driveway, low rock wall surrounding the borders of the yard, homey looking yellow house with a porch swing, it’s
like something out of a movie. Of c
ourse I have not been there in several years.

There
have been a few awkward run-ins with his mother and father in town over time. They always give me the same pitying look and ask how I am doing these days. I know they mean well but sometimes it irks me that they think I am some fragile flower their son stomped on and I will never be the same again.

Then again, maybe they’re right in their take on
the situation. I certa
inly feel defeated
at the moment.

“
Uh, no,
I actually have
a room at that inn off Briar L
ane.
Ya
know the one? I have a
paper somewhere ar
ound here,
” he answers and turns in his
seat to dig around in his carry-
on bag in the backseat.

Watching in the
rear view mirror I smile sadl
y
as papers fly through the air while
he struggles
to find his paperwork. He
had
never
been very o
rganized. He used to say that’
s why he was marrying me,
because
I always knew where to find things. I guess he
has a personal assistant for this kind of thing now. I frown at the thought and turn my attention back to the road.

“I know which one you are talking about, it’s called the Beverly Inn.”

“Aha, yes. Tha
t’s the one.” He shoves the
papers back into the case and then rights himself in his seat. “I’m hopeless when it comes to remembering that kind of thing.”

“
Yeah, I remember,
”
I say, trying not to let the memories take over again.

“Right.”

Another awkward silence falls as we both fidget and shift in our seats.

“Why not
stay with your parents?” I ask
, desperate for a subject change.

“My
grandparents are also in town,
they’
re staying at the house
,
so there’
s not a lot of room. It’s a bit of a family reunion
,
I guess.”

“How are
Marky
and Steve
these days?”
Mark aka “
Marky
” was only eight when Brandon left town and Steve had been thirteen. “I bet they love having a movie star for a big brother.” I smile.

He returns the smile and I feel a jolt in my stomach.
Traitor,
I
scold
my body.

“They’re doing
good
.
We Skype a lot
.
I’
ve flown them out to LA a few times to come visit me on set and meet all the other actors. Course
,
now Steve is more interested in the actresses.”

We both laugh. I
can just picture the
,
now
six
teen
year old
,
Steve chasing down the girls fo
r autographs and pictures. The last time I saw him, he looked just like a slightly taller and skinnier
version of Brandon so I am sure he does quite well for himself in the girl department.

I spot the inn ahead and pull to a stop in one of three parking spots, apparently
not a very busy establishment, bu
t
from
looking at the front it looks nice.
Well-tended
bushes line the walk on either side of the double French doors and a hand painted sign along the top of the doors with little spot lights on each side.

“Guess this is home,” Brandon says as he peers out the window. I suspect he is more familiar with flashy, five star hotels by now.

“Well
,
have a good time with your
family
,” I say
,
awkwardly, wishing my palms would stop sweating.

Brandon turns
to face me. “Charity, listen I know things have not gone super sm
ooth tonight and I know I said I would leave you along but
I’d really like to see you again, at least one more time before I go back.
Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

I shake my head and look down at my hands.
“I really don’t think we should.
”

He drops his gaze and nods slightly.
“
Alright, u
nderstood.
Well thanks for the ride.”

I
try to
smile but
it doesn’
t feel genuine. What’
s left to say? Have a nice life? Wish things could be different?

None of it seems right.

He leans in and kisses my cheek and I hold my breath, new tears forming.

“Goodbye
,
Charity,” he say
s afterwards, his eyes locked with
mine.

“Goodbye
, Brandon
.” My voice breaks. Som
etimes I hate being a girl, seems like you are a
lways on the verge of crying or just going insane.
Then again, maybe that’s just me.

He offers a small, sad smile before grabbing his bag from the back seat and exiting the car. He shuts the door softly before turning to go up the small walk of the inn.

I watch him go inside and
then release the tears I’
ve been holding back. I rest my head on the back of the seat and
try to regain control. It’
s one of those moments that you think for sure must be a dream.
Or
a
nightmare.

I hear a click and turn my head to see Brandon opening the passenger door. Before I can say a word he leans ac
ross the front seat,
takes my
face in his hands
,
and presses his lips firmly to mine. Instinc
tively
,
I relax into his
kiss, amazed at how natural it
still
feels after all this time. Butterflies turn to fireworks as the kiss deepens and his hand moves to weave through my hair.

It takes
a good minute before t
he alarm sounding in my head is
loud
enough to distract me. Started,
I pull away from Brandon and back
against the driver’s side window. He looks at me with surpris
e and I’m not
sure if he is
surprised by his actions or my reaction
.
Maybe both.

“I’m—I’m sorry
,
Cherry
,” he stutters
,
straightening his sport co
at and backing
away.

I stay frozen against the door. I do not trust myself. At any moment my body could rebel and fling myself back into his arms. I mentally draw a line down the center of the car and vow to stay on my half. Looking at Brandon, slightly out of breath, I am suddenly n
ineteen again. The old spark is still here
, w
ithout even touching him I can
feel
this powerful
current
between us, pulling us closer.

I close my eyes and remind m
yself of the invisible line.

“Takes two to tango,” I say with a slight grin. It had always been one of
our catch phrases whenever we would argue
and the other would
start to apologize
.

Brand
on returns the smile knowingly.

“I should get going, it’s late,” I say.

The smile falls from his face and I feel a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry,” I add.

He shrugs and smile
s again. “It’s fine. I get it.”

He’s
obviously forgotten that I know h
im well enough to know when he’s fine and when he’
s not. Currently he is not okay, despite his wor
ds. I do feel bad but I also don’
t know what else I can do. My hands and heart are tied with memories from the past and no matter what I tell
myself I don’
t see that ever fading enough that we could rebuild what we had.

He closes the car door
again
and gives a sl
ight wave before going back inside
the inn.

This time I immediately start the car and hit the gas.

I get home ten
minutes later and shuffle through the front door like a zombie.
The clock on the wall shows that it’
s nearly midnight. I have to be back to work
in less than six hours. I groan to myself
and go into the kitchen to grab my phone charger
. Somewhere along the drive home it had gone dead. I’m sure Ashley has sent me half a dozen messages by now. I grab the charger from the drawer next to the fridge and take it with me upstairs. I plug my phone in next to my bed and lay it on the nightstand. While it starts to power up I go about my nightly routine. Make up off, contacts out, teeth brushed, hair piled up in a messy bun on top of my head, and lastly, slip into some yoga pan
ts and an oversized sweatshirt.

Exhausted, I flop into bed and roll over to grab my phone. Sure enough, there are three texts from Ashley.
And one from James.

“
Can we talk?” I read aloud to myself.

Several possible responses run through my mind. As much as I want to clear up the drama from last night, I am a little pissed off that he ignored me for twenty-four hours and then, when he does f
inally speak, that’s all he has to say
.

The message was sent
over
two hours ago
and
I’m
pretty
sure he will be
sleeping by now. I skip over his message and go to th
e ones from Ashley. I know she’
s still awake but I’m not sure I have the energy to talk about any of this right now. I text her back that I just got home and need to sleep. I don’t get a response and decide to shut off the phone and turn out the lights.

In the dark I try to force myself to close my eyes and go to sleep but my mind is restless.
I am physically and emotionally drained but it feels like my mind could ramble on forever.

***

Morning comes all too quickly and before I know it
,
I am trudging back to work. I think I dozed off once or twice last night but for the most part it feels like I spent the night tossing and turning, my wheels spinning.

I’m
the first to arrive at the café so
I unlock the doors and let myself in. I stash my purse and jacket in the back room and go about the morning routine. Luckily, I have been doing this long enough that I can do everything in my sleep, which is
convenient because that’
s
pretty
much my mental state right now.

About twenty minutes before opening I hear the
bell on the front door jingle.

“I need
a mocha stat!
”
Ashley
announces
,
as she steps
inside.

On autopilot I turn and begin to prepare her drink, the usual. “What are you doing here so early? I thought we were doing lunch today?”

“Yeah, I’m
gonna
have to take a
raincheck
on that. I have a big order that I am working on, it’s supposed to go out tomorrow, and
my next shipment of supplies is on backorder
so I
gotta
go into the c
ity to pick up some things
. I’m heading out now but thought I would at least stop by and say hi, see how your night went.”

I set the coffee
cup
down in front of her. I stare at her as she takes a big gulp,
not sure what to tell her.

“Charity?
Are you ok?” Ashley asks. “You look like hell.”

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog. “Sorry, I’m just really tired. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Did you talk to James when you got home?”