Chapter Fourteen #3
“You don’t need to explain,” he tells me earnestly. “Unless you want to, of course. But you don’t owe me anything, Honor. I wanted to make sure you were all right. That’s all.”
I swallow down my words as I stare at the tray. Then I ask, “How did you even get a whole tray of brownies past security? I had a chocolate bar confiscated from TSA once, but they let you through with this?”
One of his brows pops up. “What did you put in the chocolate? Drugs? A knife?”
I snort laugh, one of the most unattractive sounds even to my ears. I’m not embarrassed about it, because it makes Bodhi’s eyes light up. “No. I’ve never done drugs in my life. Or tried to smuggle them.”
He seems shocked. “Not even marijuana?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“No blunt? No edibles.”
This time, my laugh is light. “No. I told you, I’ve never done drugs. I haven’t even smoked a cigarette before. I’ve never had any interest.”
He’s gaping at me like I admitted to setting my childhood home on fire with everybody still inside. “Wow. And you don’t drink, right?”
He asked me that once before, and I didn’t feel like elaborating at the time.
“I have a glass of wine every so often, but it’s rare.
I don’t have much of a taste for alcohol.
My mother…” I nibble on the inside of my cheek.
“She liked it a little too much. I’m not worried I’ll be a raging alcoholic or anything, but the thought of getting to her level turns me off from it. ”
I’ve never been afraid of alcohol. I drank in college.
Once, I got super drunk on rum and cokes because my suitemates were heavy pourers and I didn’t want to seem lame for drinking water all night.
I woke up so sick that I almost made one of them take me to the hospital.
But one very greasy breakfast later, I felt less horrible.
I didn’t swear off drinking altogether, but it certainly wasn’t a priority in my life the same way it is for my mother.
I turn to him. “Have you done drugs?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I dabbled. If you ever see the photos my parents have in their house, you’d see I was a bit of a stoner.
When I went to college, I tried other things until I almost lost my athletic scholarship when they did a drug test on me.
My coach told me I needed to get my act together if I was serious about going pro, so I stopped smoking and rarely went to parties where my friends would offer me shit. ”
It isn’t that I’m judging him as I stare dubiously at the man. I can’t picture him doing anything illegal. Not that marijuana is illegal in New York. But still.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he questions, draping his arms causally across his chest. “Did I tarnish my good reputation in your eyes? It’s been years since I’ve touched anything.
I’ll have a beer here in there, maybe a shot if I’m out and Gemma is with her grandparents, but I’ve calmed down a lot.
I’ve had to. I used to go a little too hard when I was younger or if I had a lot on my mind.
I realized I needed to stop depending on alcohol to make me forget things and face them head on instead. ”
I saw firsthand how he’d coped with draft beers and some sort of mixed concoctions that night at the bar. Was that the last time he’d ever gotten drunk? I don’t ask, because then I’d have to admit that we’ve met before. If he doesn’t remember, what’s the point in bringing it up?
I respect that he wants to change for his daughter—to be better. And for his career, too, obviously. I know the guys all go through random drug testing throughout the season. From what Karina has said, it’s been a couple years since someone was suspended for doping.
I had to google what that meant.
“Anyway,” he goes on, moving the topic away from his previous extracurricular activities as a college student.
“It wasn’t hard to get the brownies through security.
They took it out of my backpack like I was either planning to eat the entire thing by myself or do harm via Betty Crocker.
Apparently, a square block is triggering to their scanners. ”
I smile. “They thought you were smuggling drugs, you former delinquent.”
He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure they wanted to take it away, but I explained that I needed it to impress a pretty girl on the flight.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks and settles there.
His grin stretches. “Thankfully, they let me keep it. So, hopefully it works. But I have a few other recipes up my sleeves in case you’re not thoroughly impressed by this one. What’s your favorite dessert?”
I’m more of a savory girl over a sweets person, but I gravitate to chocolate more times than not these days. “Brownies are, actually.”
His smile stretches. “It’s a good thing I didn’t go with my first idea. Almost brought you an entire container of chocolate chip cookies. Here’s the real question. Are you a corner or a middle piece kind of girl?”
“Middle,” I answer easily. “The edges are the first things to get hard before the middle is totally done.”
All he does is hum, and something flashes in his eyes.
“What?” I scoff when I see his lips twitch at the corners. “Let me guess. You’re an edge person. Typical.”
“You can say that.” Why does he sound so amused?
I’m clearly missing something. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?”
Bodhi shakes his head, readjusting in his seat and clearing his throat. “No. Definitely not.”
Okay then.
He looks down at the brownies, then back up to me. “So are you happy?”
Right. These are supposed to make me less sad. Not that I’m sad. Irritated with my ex-husband, sure. Mad at myself for being irritated with my ex-husband, definitely. But not sad.
For a brief moment, this made me forget about why I felt that way to begin with. Bodhi has that magical effect on me.
Unfortunately, the reminder of Max’s unanswered text makes me frown, which causes Bodhi to nudge my arm with his. “What’s the face for?”
I don’t necessarily want to tell him. But if we really are friends, which I think we are since my gut isn’t screaming at me to demand other seating, then I should tell him about Max.
“My ex reached out to me last night,” I admit. His eyes are on me, and I try not to squirm under their curious scrutiny. “It was a bit jarring to say the least.”
One of Bodhi’s hands on his lap starts clenching and unclenching. “Did he do something to you?”
That’s putting it mildly. “You can say that. Max…” I think about how to put this. “Max and I were opposites, and they say opposites attract. I think that was true for a little while. It worked until it didn’t, mostly because I let a lot of things slide early on that I shouldn’t have.”
Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I let that soak in. There were a lot of things Max did that hurt me, but I let them go to save face. To save our marriage. A lot of good that did.
“We haven’t talked since our divorce until last night when he texted me,” I finish, sighing as I lean my head against the headrest.
I can feel Bodhi’s eyes pinning me to my seat before I turn my head toward him.
“You were married?” he asks, unblinking.
Oh. Right. I guess that’s not common knowledge.
“Yep” is my drawn-out response, popping the P.
“Not one of my finer moments. Neither of my parents were there. It was his family, my best friend Mila, and a couple other mutual friends we had. We were young and dumb and in love. Or, at least, I thought we were. Now I’m not so sure. ”
Bodhi is still staring at me silently.
I frown. “What?”
“I didn’t know you were…”
“It’s not a bad word,” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood. “Divorce isn’t a bad word either. Sometimes it’s just part of life. If there were things I could change, I would. But I can’t. I hate that I’m letting his text me upset me, but it does.”
He never apologized for what he did. Never owned up to his part in our relationship failing. He’d basically put it all on me, which was unfair. So unfair. But I let him. Because, again, I’m dumb. And because I also blamed myself.
Bodhi peels his eyes away, his jaw moving as if he’s grinding his teeth. Is he mad? He has no reason to be. Unless he has a thing against marriage. Some people aren’t into that kind of end game, and that’s okay.
“Sorry,” I apologize, earning his stricken expression again. “I didn’t mean to bring up something so personal. I’ll—”
“You have nothing to apologize for” he cuts me off, furrowing his brows. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at…” He shakes his head, squeezing the back of his neck and then rubbing the same area. “I’m mad at him, and I don’t even know the guy. He sounds like a giant idiot.”
“I’d like to think he is,” I joke half-heartedly.
Bodhi’s eyes feel heavy on my face. “He was a moron for letting you go. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that you’re a kind person.
A beautiful woman. There’s something about you…
” His words trail off, and he looks away for a brief moment as if needing to collect himself.
“If he was dumb enough to let that all go, then fuck him. He doesn’t deserve you. ”
He doesn’t deserve you.
Mila said the same thing. So did her parents.
It isn’t that I don’t believe them, because I do.
I gave the best version of myself to Max.
I gave almost everything to him. My heart.
My effort. My time. My love. And he used all of those things to get what he wanted until he didn’t need them anymore. Until he didn’t need me.
Wetting my lips, I let out a tiny breath. “And who do I deserve, Bodhi?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “A friend. It’s always good to start with a friend.”
A friend.
The meaning is bigger than that.
Him.
He’s saying I deserve him.