The Confidentiality Clause (More Than a Game #5)

1. Ariel Cambridge

Chapter one

Ariel Cambridge

I wonder if anyone would notice if I crawled under this table and had a quick crying sesh.

It’s a fairly busy restaurant, maybe everyone else would be too preoccupied to pay me any mind.

The couple two tables down from me surely is.

They haven’t looked away from one another the entire time I’ve been sitting here. Alone. Because my date stood me up.

I swallow. Embarrassment lodges in my throat like a pill that won’t go down.

The man at the table I’ve been spying on reaches into his pocket as the woman bats her eyelashes demurely.

Whenever I do that, I look like something is stuck in my eye.

At least, that’s what the date I had last week said.

My heart sinks as he pulls out the ring, then slides out of his chair and down onto one knee.

The woman’s hands go to her mouth. She nods frantically, candlelight illuminating the tears shining in her eyes.

He stands, and she does too. The entire restaurant erupts with applause as he draws her into his arms for a passionate kiss.

I force myself to clap, and my heart stings with the motion.

Another happy ending for a happy couple.

And another failed date for me. I’ve learned to embrace the dark comedy that is the dating world today.

I laugh with my best friend Sutton often about the ridiculous messages I get from guys who only want one thing.

And that one thing isn’t marriage. When other women at the realty company I work for lament about dating, I commiserate by telling them the most hilarious of my worst date stories.

But nights like tonight…well, my dating life is less of a dark comedy and more just…

dark. Bleak. Like a Shakespearean tragedy or a Stephen King novel.

The woman oohs and aahs over her ring when her now-fiancé slides it onto her hand. I look down at my ring finger.

A throat clears. My head snaps up to find my waiter, Jeremiah, staring at me. Pity oozes from his expression. I force myself to smile brightly at him like nothing is wrong.

“It looks as though my date won’t be arriving. I’m sorry for taking up a table for so long. Could I get an order of chicken fettuccine alfredo and a slice of caramel pecan cheesecake to go?” I’m proud of myself for controlling my voice enough that it doesn’t shake.

I have armor around my heart–you have to when you go on as many dates as I do–but being stood up is a sharp enough dagger to dig through and nick the tired organ just a little.

“Sure thing. I’ll throw in some extra bread, too.” He gives me a warm, sympathetic smile before heading back to the kitchen.

I slump in my seat once he’s gone. I’m pathetic enough to warrant extra bread.

The empty basket on the table shines like a hot flare.

A symbol to everyone who looks over that I’ve been here for thirty minutes and no one has joined me.

What’s wrong with me? Am I really so terrible that the guy couldn’t at least give a fake excuse on why he couldn’t make it?

A buzzing sound breaks through my melancholy reverie. I slide my phone out of my black purse on the table. Sutton, my best friend since high school, is calling. I’m glad I didn’t tell her about tonight’s date. Looking back, my hesitancy to do so should have been a sign.

I answer the phone. “Hey, S, what’s up?”

“Are you busy right now?”

I suppress a bitter laugh. “Just picking up some dinner from Bella Notte, why?”

“That’s perfect,” she says, relief in her voice. “I was worried my favor would be too much to ask of you.”

I frown. “You know better than to think any favor is too much. You’re like a sister to me.”

Sutton has a tendency to want to do everything on her own. Her husband, Shaw, has helped her to see it’s okay to lean on others. I did my best in high school and college to show her that. Hopefully, her reaching out is a sign that progress is happening.

“I’m so glad you think that because I’m counting on you tonight.”

The intensity of her tone makes me laugh.

“You sound like I’m going to have to do something deadly.”

“Not deadly, just…unpleasant. Potentially. He’s been a bear lately, but maybe he’ll be nice since you’re bringing him food.”

I groan. “You’re sending me to check on your brother, aren’t you?”

“Just to make sure he’s alive and has something to eat,” she says quickly, as if she’s worried I’ll hang up. I’m tempted, but I won’t. “I’ll Venmo you the money, of course.”

I sigh. “I’ll go, but only because you never ask for anything and I want to encourage this behavior.”

Hopefully, she asks for favors for herself in the future and not her absentee brother.

I’m grateful Shaw is there. He’ll keep her from doing too much, and I’ll make sure to encourage her to reach out when she needs me.

Even if that means going to see her brother since I’m closest in proximity to him.

“Thank you so much.” The sincerity in her voice rings loud and clear. “I’ll send you his office address because I’m sure he’s still there. He likes the lasagna from Bella Notte, if I remember correctly. And if you could order lots of bread, that would be great.”

No need.

I tip my head back against the booth seat. “Sure, I can do that. I’ll let you know how he is once I’m over there.”

“Okay, thank you again. Feel free to throw a couple of things at him–insults or objects–for not answering my calls.”

“Will do,” I say with a half-hearted laugh.

Jeremiah approaches with a bag.

“Okay, I’m going to order now. Love you.”

“Love you too! Thank you again.”

We hang up, and Jeremiah sets the food on the table, then pulls a receipt out of his apron pocket.

“Actually, before I pay, could I place another order? A friend of mine called and wanted me to pick something up for them.”

He gives me another one of those poor girl looks. “What would your friend like?”

My polite smile falls. He thinks this is for me. Of course.

“An order of Nona’s Lasagna, please,” I grumble.

He smiles at me and then returns to the kitchen.

I hang my head. I’d say tonight couldn’t get any worse, but I’m about to drive across town to see Brock Jones, so I’d be speaking too soon.

It’s not like the man is evil or anything, but anyone who causes stress for my best friend sets me on edge.

And right now? Brock has been a source of anxiety for Sutton for months.

She should be enjoying newlywed life. Living it up with her husband, working her dream job, eating sushi, and drinking champagne.

Instead, she’s constantly worried about her sibling.

He doesn’t text or call as much as he used to, and he definitely doesn’t visit as often as he should.

While Brock used to get on my nerves with his constant teasing, I always appreciated how he stuck by his family.

Sutton has said on multiple occasions that he’s the best twin brother a girl could ever ask for.

Now, he’s always working. I’ve talked to Sutton after he cuts calls short, or cancels plans on account of a work emergency.

He’s gotten worse as the months have gone by, and now I guess it’s escalated enough that I have to go check on him for her.

I know if I couldn’t, she’d be on a plane to see him.

That’s how close they are. Which is why his increasing distance makes no sense.

Worry niggles at my mind. I swat it away like a pesky mosquito.

Brock has enough people worrying about him.

I don’t need to add myself to the list. I’ll take him the food, yell at him for stressing Sutton out, then go home and eat cheesecake in bed while watching He’s Just Not That Into You for the umpteenth time.

I nod to myself. There. Plan made. All that’s left is to gather up the shreds of my dignity and enact it. When Jeremiah starts my way again with his pitying expression, I realize that the last part might be more difficult than I thought.