Chapter 3 #2
I’d never met his family but Braden never talked much about them.
I’d always known he preferred the company of Zack and the band to that of his family—and, when I started to ask questions about his family members, he changed the subject so skillfully that I didn’t even realize it until later that night.
“So the reservations are at Angelo’s. Have you ever eaten there? ”
“No.” Growing up, my mom and I would eat out on occasion, but it was always at the only restaurant in Nopal, a little diner that sometimes closed in the afternoon when they felt like it.
Every once in a while a new restaurant would appear until the owners realized Nopal simply couldn’t support more than one.
Braden said, “It’s smack in the middle of town right along the highway, so they get lots of tourist traffic.”
“Is that why you made reservations?”
His cheeks seemed to grow pink, but I couldn’t be sure. “I wanted to make sure we got a table.”
“So tell me what’s special about Angelo’s.”
“If you like Italian, there’s no place better. Their shit’s authentic, not like the crap we ate on the road.”
Well, we hadn’t frequented any restaurants and I didn’t remember any Italian food—unless he was talking about the one time we went to an Olive Garden somewhere during the third leg of our tour because one of the road crew had suggested it. So I simply said, “I can’t wait.”
When we got to the restaurant, Braden managed to find a spot for the white minivan near the front, and he insisted upon opening the door for me.
In fact, he asked me not to get out until he did.
While that wasn’t my style, I kept reminding myself that Braden deserved to be treated like a prince—and that meant I’d let him be as chivalrous as he liked.
It included opening the doors to the restaurant for me as we walked in as well.
If Braden and I were going to make it as a couple, I wouldn’t be able to stand him doing this constantly. But tonight was for him.
Approaching the hostess, he said, “Two for Mitchell.”
The middle-aged woman looked down at a list on the podium where she stood and said, “Yes. Let me make sure we have a table ready for you.”
Hmm. Maybe they were all that. Braden seemed to think so. And the restaurant was filled with the smell of marinara and garlic, and suddenly I felt famished.
Less than a minute later, the hostess was leading us through the restaurant that was busy, but not every table was filled, so I wondered if her checking was just for show. She even offered us a wine list, not realizing I was still a minor.
I didn’t want any alcohol anyway. Zack had managed to ruin that for all of us.
As we opened the menu, a young man approached our table, turning over the lovely goblets on the table covered in cream linen to fill them with ice water. And then he said, “No way!”
Both Braden and I looked up from our menus.
The man said, “You guys are in Once Upon a Riot!”
We both said yes at the same time. I imagined my expression looked much like Braden’s—eager and happy, even with all the unexpected weight that had come with being in a band. While we didn’t do it for the recognition, it was kind of exciting to have someone know who we were.
“I read that you guys were from here, but I didn’t think I’d see you around.” The black-haired man, not much older than the two of us, was grinning from ear to ear.
Braden said, “We lived in Denver for a while.”
“Dude, that’s so awesome. I bought—”
Just then, the waiter appeared at our table.
He wore a crisp black-and-white uniform with touches of red—and he didn’t need to say a word.
Both we and the busboy got the message that he needed to skedaddle and tend to other customers.
Braden raised an eyebrow at me as if saying he was sorry that he’d brought me to a place where we couldn’t relax.
Or maybe that was just me. Just as we’d started to have fun…
“Hello. My name is Randall and I’ll be serving you tonight. Would you like to order any starters or do you need more time with the menu?”
“Dani, get whatever you want, but I’d like a salad with the house dressing.”
I trusted Braden. Already I’d noticed things like linguine alle vongole on the menu, a food I never wanted to try based on the description, and needed to spend a lot more time finding something I’d enjoy—which I knew I would, but I didn’t want the added pressure of choosing an appetizer. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”
“I’ll bring those shortly.”
Almost as soon as he was gone, the busboy whizzed by again, giving us what he thought was a covert thumbs up.
I couldn’t help but smile at him, but I hoped he wasn’t jeopardizing his job by being overly friendly with us.
I whispered to Braden, “We should probably give him our autograph before we leave.”
Nodding, he smiled so warmly at me—reminding me of what a sweet soul he was.
Back in high school, he’d seemed like Zack’s faithful companion, only there to validate his friend’s thoughts and feelings, but he’d really grown into his own.
And I’d been so blinded by Zack’s aura that I’d never really thought of Braden as his own person.
I thought that said something about me—all this railing over the past year about wanting to be appreciated for who I was despite my gender, and I’d been doing the same goddamned thing to Braden, not valuing him for who he was.
I would do better, starting today.
“Did you change your mind?” he asked.
Oh—he was talking about the autograph and my brain’s trip down memory lane had marred my expression. I had to get better about that. “No, I think we should. It’s kind of cool being noticed here in Dalton after only being recognized either right before or after shows far from home.”
“Yeah. Well, like the label guys said, we’re finally charting and getting streams and stuff. The more that happens, the more people will figure out who we are.”
I tried not to think about it. How would I deal with real fame?
I asked, “What are you going to get?”
“It’s always such a hard choice, but I think I’m gonna get the risotto alla Milanese.”
Oh. I’d noticed that one was a bit more expensive than others. I knew Braden had saved some money but did he really want to blow it on me? “Do you eat here a lot?”
“No, but I have fond memories. When I was a kid after my mom started working, we used to eat here once every month or so. I’ve tried every dish on the menu. My favorites were lasagna and Margherita pizza, but they don’t have those on the menu anymore.”
Both sounded good, especially because the smells in the restaurant were making my stomach growl. “What is it you’re getting today again?”
“Risotto. Have you ever had it before?”
“No.”
“It’s a creamy rice dish—and I like risotto anyway, but they make theirs with saffron.”
I just nodded like I knew what he was talking about even though I admitted, “I’ve never had that before.”
“You can have a taste of mine if you wanted to get something else and just want to try it.”
“Thanks.” Scanning the menu again, I settled on the spaghetti carbonara, a food that seemed familiar and comforting.
And, as if he’d had an innate sense of our readiness, our waiter appeared at our table with two salads.
After taking our order, he said something to the busboy nearby—and soon we also had a plate of soft Italian bread with some sort of dipping oil…
with no conversation, even though the busboy winked at us.
Braden was right. The food was amazing, and we hadn’t even gotten to the main course. I must have made some small sound of pleasure, because he said, “Good, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“But it was a stupid idea.”
“What was?” I asked, pausing before putting another forkful of crisp salad in my mouth.
“I was hoping to kiss you later—but I’ll have garlic breath.”
I started laughing. “I think you’re safe. There’s at least a whole clove in the salad dressing—and the oil’s full of it too. If we’re both eating garlic, doesn’t it cancel out?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, and it keeps the vampires away too, I’ve been told.” Suddenly, though, I saw his expression change as if a flip inside him had been switched. “Can we talk?”
Trying to keep the mood light, I said, “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing this whole time?”
“Well, yeah….” Putting his fork down, he picked up his water goblet and drank almost the entire glass.
“I hope this isn’t too uncomfortable, but I just kinda wanted to check in with you.
I don’t want to rush you or put pressure on you—but I know you and Zack got really serious…
and I don’t want to step in… I guess what I’m saying is if you still have feelings for him, I’ll back off. If you need time—”
And, with perfect timing, our busboy reappeared to refill Braden’s water glass, possibly hoping to chat with us more.
On the one hand, I felt some relief, because I hadn’t expected to be confronted with having to dig deep and talk about it.
How did you tell the sweetest man in the world that your heart still belonged to another profoundly flawed man who didn’t appreciate you?
Seriously, what the fuck did that say about me? I too was flawed deep down and I knew that because it was like I was addicted to the man.
Braden, though—God, he was smart. He told our busboy, “Me and Dani were talking and wondered if you’d want our autographs.”
The busboy’s eyes grew wide, as if he’d stumbled upon a hidden cache of gold. He whispered, “Hell, yeah.”
“If you could get us some paper and a pen—”
“On it, boss.”
As soon as he was gone, Braden’s chestnut eyes nearly bored into me—but there was no anger, nothing negative.
Just hope.
And I wasn’t about to take that away from him.
I knew deep down that Braden would be the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for: attentive, caring, thoughtful, gentle, kind, putting my needs above his.
I’d already experienced this side with him, and I knew I’d be the world’s biggest idiot to kick him to the curb.
I could grow to love Braden. How could I not?
So I told him what I hoped I’d feel sometime down the road. “Zack is in the past. I care about him as a friend and a band member, but we are through. I want to be with you, Braden.”
The way his lips, turned up softly, nearly ate up his entire face caused me to smile back.
But that smile didn’t quite reach my eyes. I might have been able to fool Braden, but I couldn’t get myself to completely swallow that lie.