Chapter 21 #2
I didn’t think it was possible for Brody to frown any harder, but he did. “Don’t take this the wrong way.” He was clearly choosing his words carefully. “Your mother is a monster.”
I didn’t take the comment personally. “She’s limited. She honestly doesn’t have bad intentions, which is why I still allow her to stay with me when she pops up. She should’ve never been a mother, but she did the best she could.”
Brody looked as if he wanted to argue further, but he didn’t.
“It really is fine,” I assured him. “She pops in every other year or so, stays a few weeks, then takes off for greener pastures. I know the routine.”
“You deserve so much more.”
I lifted one shoulder. “You don’t always get what you deserve in life.”
He opened his mouth, likely to say something dark about my mother, then veered off in a different direction. “Tell me about this breakfast.” He pointed toward my plate. “How did you land on this?”
“It was the first breakfast I ever ordered for myself in a restaurant. I saved money for two weeks, and I bought my own breakfast so I wouldn’t have to have the cereal. It was so good that I’ve always ordered the same thing ever since.”
I swear it looked as if he was going to cry. “And what is it again?” he asked in a low voice.
“Eggs over medium so the whites are cooked, whole wheat toast to dunk in the yolks, hash browns, and bacon.”
“And how many times a week do you get that?”
“No more than once, but it’s always a treat when I do.”
“And you never want to get anything different?” he asked.
“Why? I already know what I like.”
He pressed his lips together. I stared back.
“We’re going to try some new breakfasts,” he said finally. “You can still get this one.” He tapped the side of my plate. “You’re going to start tasting the breakfasts I get, though.”
Brody made it sound like we were going to be eating breakfast together often. I didn’t hate the idea.
He grinned. “Wait until I introduce you to the banana pancakes at Collins Quarter. You’re going to love them.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait to see.”
WE HANDLED THE SCOOTER NEXT. WE HAD it towed to a garage Brody was familiar with. The cost of new tires wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting. Rather than picking it up at the end of the day, which had been the original plan, Brody arranged for it to be dropped off at my house the following day.
“We don’t know how late we’ll be, and I don’t want to cut the fun short,” he said.
“How do you know we’re going to have fun?”
“Because I always have fun with you.”
That was enough to wrap my heart in a hug, and I nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s go have fun.”
And that was exactly what we did. Brody started off with a tour of the historic district.
He was into buildings, the architecture and history.
I listened to everything he said with rapt attention.
I loved ghostly tidbits. It was more than that, though.
He was so excited about everything he showed me that I couldn’t help being excited, too, even if I didn’t give two figs about architecture.
I could appreciate a beautiful building. I could appreciate Brody too.
He took me to The Olde Pink House for lunch, a place that had been on my visit list since the move. There he got pulled pork sliders, and I opted for fried green tomatoes—a personal favorite—and she-crab soup.
After lunch, we went on a haunted walking tour. The guide was really good, talking in creepy voices as she told the stories. She seemed committed to her job.
“The tours are better at night,” he said in a low voice as he walked next to me, our fingers linked.
How had that even happened? I didn’t remember taking his hand or him taking mine. We were just suddenly connected, and it felt natural, so I didn’t pull away.
“Have you been on all the tours?” I asked.
“I don’t know about all the tours, but I’ve been on a lot of them.”
“So, are you suggesting we come back to do them at night?” I asked, feeling excitement rise. “Or do you want to stay out here until tonight?”
He shook his head then caught himself. “Actually, I was thinking we would get dinner and then head back to my house. Unless you don’t want to hang at my house again, which is perfectly okay.”
I didn’t immediately respond. He looked like he was about to panic.
“I’m fine if you don’t want to hang at my house again so soon,” he said quickly. “I’m perfectly fine sitting outside and talking if that’s what you prefer. I’m not trying to pressure you for anything.”
He was adorable when he was being awkward. The truth was, I wanted to go back to his house. It wouldn’t always be his house—I had a perfectly respectable house of my own, but my mother was currently residing under my roof, and there was no reason to make things more uncomfortable than necessary.
I pressed my finger to his lips to silence him when it became apparent he was going to keep rambling. “I’m looking forward to going back to your house,” I assured him in a low voice.
His shoulders sagged with relief. “Really?”
I nodded. He seemed to need reassurance. I wanted to give it to him. How much I could give him was the question. “I can’t make you promises, but I want to see where this goes,” I started.
He nodded.
“So let’s just play it by ear,” I continued. “We’ll do what comes naturally. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
He exhaled heavily as if I’d just taken the weight of the world off his shoulders. “That sounds good.”
“Okay.”
We both relaxed. “Where do you want to eat dinner? We could take it home and eat it at your house?” I asked.
His eyes sparkled, and all the awkwardness disappeared. “Oh, see, you just read my mind.”