Chapter Fourteen #3
It took Shelby a few seconds to understand what he meant. “You’re looking at my Instagram?” Then her brain caught up. “Wait, why would I be trying to make you jealous?”
“I don’t know. I just mean, you’re obviously trying to prove you’ve moved on.”
She could feel the beginnings of a headache setting in. “I have moved on, Brandon. We’re getting divorced, remember? And it seems like you’ve moved on, too. Alexis, is it?”
Brandon was silent for a few seconds. “You heard about that.”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Shelby said stiffly, hating that there were tears in her eyes, and grateful that he couldn’t see them. “And I hear you’re having a baby. Just what you always wanted.”
He cleared his throat. “Actually, Alexis and I broke up.” Shelby was stunned into silence, and when she didn’t say anything, Brandon continued haltingly. “So the thing is, you’re right. Alexis is having a baby. It’s just… not mine.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Well, there’s, uh, a problem with my sperm.”
Shelby’s whole body felt cold. “What?”
“I went in for a physical… Reduced motility and atypical morphology, the doctor said. Turns out Alexis was sleeping with some guy in her office. Can you believe that?”
“Wait, go back.” Shelby’s head was spinning.
“You have fertility problems? So all that time we were trying to have a baby and thought I couldn’t get pregnant because I had PCOS…
” She trailed off, too stunned for words.
Her fertility doctor had been Brandon’s old fraternity brother, and Brandon had said it was too weird to have his sperm checked by someone who’d once held him up while he’d done keg stands, adding that there was no point, anyhow, if they already knew she had polycystic ovary syndrome.
“It was your fault, too,” she finished softly.
“ ‘Fault’ is a strong word,” Brandon said.
“It sure is. And it’s a word you used an awful lot on me.”
She could hear him breathing. “I’m sorry, Shelb. I really am.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Me, too.”
“Do you think…” He coughed and restarted. “Do you think we could try again?”
She was certain she’d misheard him. “I’m sorry, try what again?”
“Us. We were good together, weren’t we?”
She was definitely in bizarro world now. “We were,” she said evenly. “Until you decided that I was to blame for everything that wasn’t perfect in our marriage.”
“Yeah, well… I was wrong.”
She closed her eyes. She never thought she’d hear him say the words.
But they were too late. Weren’t they? Suddenly, she was very confused.
“Yes, Brandon, you were,” she said. “I have to go.” She hung up before he could say another word, and then, before she could second-guess herself, she set off toward the metro.
She didn’t want to think about Brandon anymore tonight. She didn’t want to face Vanessa and Corinne and their demands that she move on by sleeping with a new guy, either. She just wanted to be by herself.
But as she walked away, she found herself thinking of Russ.
There was no future with him—she knew that—but still, he had shown her more care and respect last night than Brandon had in years.
And now, as she felt the tug back into Brandon’s orbit, she forced herself to think, instead, about what it had felt like to wake up in bed this morning with someone who didn’t expect her to be anyone but who she was.
It was nearly closing time, and Russ’s hopes were fading as the minutes ticked by.
Shelby had said she was going out with her girlfriends tonight but that she’d try to come by before the bar closed. Yet it was 1:45; he’d just shouted out that it was last call, and still, she hadn’t appeared.
“If you’re so desperate to get laid, there’s a girl over there who’s been eyeing you all night,” Benji said as he squeezed by Russ with four pints of Foster’s.
Russ glanced in the direction Benji indicated, where, indeed, a pretty brunette in her twenties was batting her eyes at him. “I’m old enough to be her father,” he said dully as Benji returned.
“So what? If you’re not going to hit on her, I will,” Benji said brightly.
“Have at it.”
“You sure?” Benji didn’t wait for an answer before adding, “You’re giving off sad-sack energy, anyhow.”
“That’s very nice, Benji, thanks.”
“Just calling it like I see it.” Benji grinned and then slithered like an eel over to the high-top where the brunette stood with some friends. In a second, she was giggling at something charming Benji had said, having already forgotten that she’d spent the past hour staring at Russ.
Fifteen minutes later the bar had emptied out, Benji had vanished with the brunette, and Rob had almost finished counting the cash in the till. Russ went out front to lock up, and he couldn’t resist looking up and down the street, just in case Shelby was headed his way.
But the rue Galande was empty except for a few stragglers from Le Maison Grog.
No Shelby, then. Russ thought about calling her, but he didn’t want to seem desperate. She knew where to find him.
He stepped back inside, pulled the doors closed, and vowed that one of these days, he’d have a hard conversation with himself about what he was doing with his life.