24. Bridget
CHAPTER 24
Bridget
There’s a slight chill in the breeze as the sun sets and night falls around me. We’re almost halfway through September, and the evenings are starting to cool.
A night alone was exactly what I needed after a long day in the office. Every single person I interacted with today needed something from me, and I want an evening to recharge my social battery.
Ethan worked the lunch shift today, but he said he might stay through the dinner rush, so I don’t have to worry about bailing on him since we don’t have plans.
The sidewalks are somewhat deserted, and the city is winding down from the hustle of the workday as most rush hour traffic has died down. I’ve walked a good bit from home when I realize my stomach is growling, and I look around for a place to grab a bite. Sweet Serenity Café is about a block from here, and I get excited at the idea of eating alone.
Entering the restaurant, I let the hostess know that I’d like to sit on the patio. It’s gorgeous, surrounded by a tall white fence; it blocks the view of the street, creating a cozy feel. The outside of the fence is adorned with painted flowers, and a beautiful mural done by a local artist. Inside, wrought-iron tables dot the area, each situated over the brick paver-covered ground. In the spring and summertime, the patio is covered in vibrant flowers and plants, and a wisteria-covered entrance makes you feel like you’ve stumbled into a secret garden.
The normal floral backdrop has been replaced with fall décor. Corn stalks, mums, and pumpkins atop bales of hay fill the space. A small scarecrow perches in the corner as fairy lights illuminate the area from overhead.
Normally, I pick up food from a restaurant and take it home. This is one of the few places I actually enjoy dining in. Well, here and Ethan’s restaurant since I have a reason to go inside now. And I do enjoy the view over there as well. My cheeks flush as thoughts of Chef Ethan invade my thoughts.
I look up and swear my mind is playing tricks on me, conjuring a mirage of Ethan just as I was thinking about him. But holy fuck, it actually is Ethan. He’s clearly not working. And he’s with a woman. A beautiful woman who appears to be older than him, maybe even close to my age. They’re standing next to a table, arms around each other in what feels like a longer-than-normal embrace. He knows this woman intimately. What the fuck?
Is he cheating on me? We’ve never even defined what we’re doing, so would it technically be cheating? What if he’s been seeing her this whole time? Am I the other woman, or is she?
Does he have a thing for older women? Is that why he’s never been bothered by my age? Maybe he only dates older women. When I asked about past relationships, he never mentioned their ages. What if that’s what he’s into?
Suddenly, every moment we’ve shared feels cheap. Everything I once thought was special is tainted with these new thoughts that he’s done this before, that I’m not the only older woman he’s been with. I’m not special, just one of many.
I stand there at the patio entrance frozen, as though I’m trapped in place by vines that are holding me hostage.
The patio that’s normally a fantastical dreamscape has become my literal nightmare as I watch Ethan hold her in his arms, his fucking dimple on full display, face beaming with joy—that until now I thought he’d only felt with me—as he lowers his lips and kisses the woman’s forehead in a way that’s way too intimate for my comfort.
The gate snaps shut behind me, breaking me from my doomsday reverie. Slowly, Ethan’s head turns toward the sound, briefly making eye contact with me, the mystery woman still wrapped in his arms.
No. Nope, I cannot be here. I cannot do this. This is why I don’t do relationships. Every intrusive thought imaginable shouts in my brain, the noise an overwhelming rush of anxiety as I turn and run through the gate. I can hear shuffling behind me as I run down the street, dodging people as I get the hell out of there.
“Bridget!” Ethan calls out, but I keep running, determined to escape the hell I’m living. “Will you stop running?” he pants.
And give you the chance to lie to my face about what that was back there? No, asshole, I won’t stop running.
Pain lances my chest, and I slow briefly to get my bearings. We’re a few blocks from the restaurant and still too far from my apartment to outrun him. Fuck, I forgot he runs every day. How am I going to get out of this?
I’m turning down a side street when his hand grabs mine, pulling me back.
“Will you stop for one goddamn second?” His voice is gruff and demanding as he pulls on my arm, forcing me to turn toward him. “What was that back there? Why did you run? I was calling your name?—”
A bitter laugh escapes me, interrupting his excuses. “You know exactly what that was, exactly what I walked in on.” I stop myself before I say more. I’m not going to be that woman. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
The look of confusion on his face almost convinces me that I’m wrong, but I press on. “I can’t do this. You’ve made your bed. Don’t make this a bigger mess than it needs to be.” I start to turn, but his hand grips me tighter, holding me in place as a look of understanding crosses his features.
“Instead of talking to me, you’ve let your mind spiral into possibilities, none of which are true. Can you listen to me for a goddamn minute?” he angrily snaps before adding, “Please?”
Fuck, he’s right. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I have no idea who that woman is, and I haven’t even given him a chance to explain before I’ve written him off. My heart beats wildly in my chest, adrenaline still coursing through me as I inhale a shaky breath, images of my high school ex, me alone in the hallway feeling humiliated and alone, flash through my mind. They aren’t the same person , I tell myself.
“That was my mom, Ashley,” he tells me. “She surprised me at the restaurant today and wanted to take me out for dinner. I didn’t know she was coming by. Mina had dinner covered, so I left early.”
Shit. I really did jump to conclusions.
“I’m an asshole,” I groan as I cover my face with my hands.
“You’re not an asshole,” he says as he pulls me into a hug. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through in past relationships that would make you so quickly jump to the worst possible conclusion, but I’m not and have never been, never will be, a cheater.”
His arms leave my waist and cup my cheeks, and the voices screaming at me to run start to quiet in my head. But I won’t give him this piece of my past. I can’t. My pain is my baggage to carry, my cross to bear.
“It’s clear you’ve been through some shit, and I’m not going to force you to talk about it. I get how that looked back there, and I can see it clearly triggered a trauma response in you. Your flight response kicked in so quickly that I almost didn’t catch you. And I’m sorry that I raised my voice, but I didn’t know how else to get you to stop.”
My cheeks burn as his words pierce me. How does he see me? How is he able to read me so clearly? Why did my brain spiral to the worst possible conclusion without even giving him a chance to explain?
How the fuck did he get past all my walls and implant himself in my heart?
We stand there for several awkward minutes, him still holding me, his hand firmly clasped around my back as I listen to the rapid beating of his heart against his chest. I can’t even remember if I responded to him, but relief fills me when it’s clear he won’t force me to share anything more with him than I’m willing to right now.
When my breathing returns to normal, and my heartbeat finally starts to even out, matching his rhythm, I look up into his eyes.
“Hey, hellcat.” He smiles down at me, his dimple popping as he leans down to press a kiss to my forehead.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop my spiraling thoughts.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, but I’d love to know more if you’re ever willing to share.” He pulls me against him as we walk back the way we came.
“Wh-where are we going?” I stutter out.
“Back to the restaurant. I kind of left quickly, and I need to get back before my mom thinks I skipped out on her.”
My legs lock, and I stop walking. “I can’t go back there. This is so embarrassing. What is she going to think of me?”
“Nothing. She didn’t see you, and I highly doubt her brain went where yours did because those thoughts didn’t cross my mind either.”
“I don’t know.”
He steps in close, his cool, crisp scent enveloping me. “If you’re up for it, I’d love for you to meet my mom.”
“What would we even tell her? You ran off chasing after me. She’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”
“We can say you didn’t hear me because you had your earbuds in. You traveled quite a distance, and it’s unlikely she knows what’s happening, only that I ran after someone I knew.”
“What about the fact that she and I look to be similar in age?”
“She already knows how old you are.”
“How does she know that?”
“Because I told her. Months ago.”
“What? Why? We weren’t even dating then.”
“We talk once a week, at least, and she stops by the restaurant when she’s in the area. Since I took time off to help you, I let her know why I wouldn’t be at the restaurant as much. And your age doesn’t matter to her. She’s just thrilled that I’m happy. And you make me happy.”
“Oh.”
“Also, can we circle back to that dating comment?” He flashes me a boyish grin.
I playfully shove his side, but he pulls me in closer, kissing my temple.
“It’s ok. I won’t tell anyone you like me,” he says as he squeezes my shoulder. “Seriously, though, I’d love for you to meet my mom. She’s kind of been dying to meet you. I didn’t want to overwhelm you if you weren’t ready.”
Am I ready? That’s kind of a big step in a relationship. One I’ve only done one other time. But high school boyfriends don’t count, right? I mean, I had to meet his parents since they drove us around on our dates before we got our licenses.
His green eyes pierce me with a look full of hope and awe. His face is so handsome that it’s hard for me to say no. Reluctantly, I agree, and together we head back to the restaurant hand in hand, my eyes fixed on him as we walk, for once not giving a fuck what anyone walking by might think.
____________
“Bridget, it’s so nice to meet you.” Ashley smiles warmly at me as she extends her hand. “Please, sit down and join us. Ethan has told me so much about you.”
I sit next to Ethan and smile awkwardly, unsure what to say.
“Mom, please don’t embarrass me,” he pleads.
“What? I’m just so thrilled to meet her. You’ve told me how beautiful and smart she is, and I can tell that she keeps you on your toes. I’m thrilled there’s someone out there giving you shit and keeping you honest.”
“It’s a full-time job keeping Ethan in check, so it’s nice to see I’m not the only one who gets to have a little fun with him. Right, pup?” I tease.
“There’s my favorite hellcat.” He squeezes my thigh under the table.
“Oh, I need to hear more about these nicknames.” Ashley laughs as she sips her drink.
“He tends to follow me around?—”
“Like a puppy?” She cackles, and it sends us all into a fit of laughter. “I’m sure he prefers pup to Pickle.”
“Hell yeah, I do,” Ethan chimes in. “And I call her hellcat because she gives me hell.”
“You like it.”
“I really do.” He beams at me.
“Gah, you two are so cute,” Ashley exclaims, and I shift a little in my seat, needing to address the elephant in the room before the pressure in my chest gets worse.
“And you don’t think it’s weird that we’re about the same age and I’m dating your son…well, stepson?”
“Honestly, if you’re both happy, I don’t care how old either of you are. You’re consenting adults, and my opinion has no place in your relationship. As women, we’re so hard on ourselves, let alone each other, and that saddens me. Don’t we get enough of that from the patriarchy? You wouldn’t believe how many people judge me because I was so young when I started having kids. Or because I’m divorced. Or because I’m almost forty and have a five-year-old, and honestly, I kind of want to have another baby before I’m too old to do so.”
“Really, Mom?” Ethan laughs. “I’m not changing any more diapers. You guys are on your own.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But I’m having fun trying.” She winks.
“Jesus Christ!” Ethan wails, and I can’t help laughing at his unease.
Ashley makes a “See what I’m talking about” gesture towards Ethan as if to prove her point before turning to him. “And she was worried about being judged. Look at you.”
He throws his hands up in defense, realizing the error he made. “I’m not judging. I just don’t want to hear about you and Dad bumping uglies.”
“That’s fair,” Ashley concedes. “So, how’d you two meet?”
“Mom.”
“What? I want to hear her tell it.”
Shit. Telling his mom we had a one-night stand that turned into a Nurse Nightingale situation is not exactly how I planned to spend my evening.
“We, uh, we met at a club,” I answer, shoving several fries into my mouth to avoid any follow-up questions.
Ethan makes a “See, I told you so” movement with his head, and I laugh at how he and his mom think their silent conversations aren’t obvious. I guess he’s able to read more than just me.