Chapter Thirty-Eight
Brady
I practically have to drag Angela down the street to Finnegan’s. She’s holding her phone up on reverse camera mode, trying to fix her hair and wipe away mascara smudges.
“Would you stop? You look beautiful.”
She pops a Xanax and shoots me a glare.
I spot my family right away when we get inside.
Mikey’s pelting Siobhan with what appear to be M&Ms. He stops when he sees us and nudges my dad.
Connor looks up at us and smiles before sliding out of the booth.
Two redheads turn to look at us, and my mom and sister also scramble out of their seats.
Before we know it, Angie and I are surrounded by my family.
Connor wraps Angela in one of his bear hugs. “It’s good to see you again, Angela,” he says, letting her go.
“You, too,” she says, definitely overwhelmed but holding her own.
“This is Mikey and Siobhan,” says my dad. Mikey gives Angie a “How you doing” and a once-over that makes me smack the back of his head.
Siobhan is uncharacteristically shy and subdued, like she’s meeting her favorite TikTok star. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you? That’s it?” says Mikey. He turns to Angie. “You’re all she’s talked about for weeks. We haven’t been able to get her to shut up about you. It’s Angela this and Angela that and I can’t wait to meet Angela.”
“Shut up , asswipe,” hisses Siobhan, her cheeks burning red.
“Knock it off, Mikey,” says Connor mildly. “Angela, I believe you’ve met my wife, Deirdre.”
“No, no, no,” protests my mom, her pale skin red as a beet.
“We’re going to pretend that never happened.
Hi, Angela. I’m Brady’s perfectly nice and normal mom, and I hope you stay very close to my son for a very long time.
” She pulls a gaping Angela into a fierce hug.
“Unfortunately, Brady gets his lack of impulse control from me,” she says, stepping back and looking up at her with a sheepish grin.
“Fortunately, though, he gets his lack of a temper from his dad Brendan,” says Connor. “So there’s not as much flying off the handle as there is with this one.” He gently nudges my mom.
“Can we eat now?” says Mikey.
“Let’s definitely eat now,” says Angela, sliding into the booth.
I slide in next to her, and she immediately leans against me.
The sensation of her warm body against mine is only slightly less electrifying than her seeking comfort from me.
I wrap an arm around her and feel, at least for this moment, like the luckiest guy on the planet.
Two hours later, Angie’s Xanax and two sambucas have caught up with her.
My family’s incessant teasing of one another and Siobhan’s constant questioning of Angela about everything from what brand of eyeliner she wears to how she did her waterfall braid (whatever that is) surely hasn’t helped.
In any event, I manage to extricate us from their well-intentioned suffocation and get us out of Finnegan’s and back to the law school parking garage.
I drive her home in my rental car, equal parts nervous and grateful to be in her presence.
She sends a couple of texts while we drive, apparently not in the least bit fazed.
I have no idea what happens now. I suppose I’ll drop her off and ask her to unblock my number so I can call her tomorrow and take her to breakfast.
I pull up in front of Lizette’s. She looks at me with a carefully blank expression. “You’re going to come in, right?” she asks.
Um, hell yeah. “Yeah, if you want. I mean, if it’s okay.”
“It’s okay.”
The garage apartment is marginally nicer than it had been before the fire. It still isn’t great, though. But I don’t care. All that matters is that I’m with her.
I follow her into her room and sit on her bed while she puts her books and laptop away.
I don’t know what she’s thinking, if she wants to talk, if she needs some time to wrap her head around everything, if she’s tired and just wants to sleep.
I would sit on the sofa under a blanket with her and watch Dirty Dancing on repeat all night if that’s what she wanted.
She flops down on the bed, closes her eyes, and stretches out her long limbs. She’s wearing a pale gray sweater with pearl buttons down the front. I can just barely see the outline of a pink bra. Her black pencil skirt skims her knees but hugs every curve. A 1950s secretary with a hint of badass.
“Don’t you have to work tonight?” I ask, stretching out next to her.
“I got someone to take my shift.” She opens her eyes to glance at me and taps her mouth with her fingers absentmindedly.
I’ve been staring at her mouth all day. I haven’t kissed that mouth in two months.
“Your hair’s down. It looks really pretty.”
“Thanks,” she says. She sits up and starts unraveling the braid that she’d somehow woven like a ribbon through her otherwise loose hair.
“I’ll do that if you want.”
“Sure,” she says softly.
I sit up behind her and slowly pull apart the long, soft, coconut-scented strands of her hair. “I missed this, too,” I say. When all her hair is free she turns around, her face wet with tears.
My heart crushes in on itself like a can. “You look like maybe you’re not ready to forgive me yet,” I say. “It’s okay, you know? I did a seriously messed-up thing. I can wait.”
“But you know I’ll forgive you.”
No. I shake my head, realizing how presumptuous I must have sounded.
I’m watching her, mesmerized by everything Angela, drunk on every delicate plane of her face and curve of her body.
I feel my time with her slipping away again, and I use what’s left to take her in.
For once, there’s nothing for me to say.
“I’m done,” she whispers, and I feel my heart crack. She pulls my face to hers and rests her forehead against mine. She smells like licorice and Angela and every hope I’ve ever had.
No, no, no. You can’t be done with me. You are my entire world, Angela Pines. I have so much to give you. Strong arms and stupid jokes and good times. My crazy family and the one we’ll make together. A lifetime of love and loyalty.
“I’m done being angry,” she whispers. “I’m done living without you. I forgave you before you even finished bandaging my hand. I meant every single thing I said in that stupid message and more. Don’t leave again, Brady. Stay with me.”
Yes… Yes!… YES! Thank you, God. I wrap my arms around her and tackle her onto the bed. She lets out a muffled squeal, and I roll her on top of me. “I didn’t leave you, Angela. I just kept my promise. I won’t be making a promise like that again, I promise you that.” She laughs at my babbling.
“I’ve missed that chatty mouth,” she says, and presses her lips to mine.
The first time I touched her, she felt like heaven wrapped up in betrayal and deceit. Tonight she feels like forever.