30. Bradley
Bradley
I woke up feeling like shit. No longer puking, but now the pain is in my heart.
Hearing from both of them today, after they reconnected last night, wasn't what I was expecting. I figured they’d be too wrapped up in rekindling their love to even give me a second thought.
But that isn’t the case.
Why couldn’t they just ghost me like any other person wanting to end a relationship?
It’s a tried-and-true plan that’s been used for ages.
Why alter something that isn’t broken? I don’t need the breakup face to face.
The old, ‘it’s not you it’s me’, motto. Knowing that they still have feelings for their ex is one thing.
But to find out that the ex for each of them was the other is another thing.
My eyes are glued to my phone. My fingers fighting the urge to answer Jefferson’s call.
But when he said he was coming over, I knew my heart couldn’t handle that.
So, I replied. Polite and firm. But he didn’t respect those boundaries, and my phone begins vibrating in my hand.
He’s calling again. I send him to voicemail and quickly type a message.
Me: Can’t talk. Busy.
I sit there in a daze staring at my phone. When no message comes through, a wave of disappointment hits me.
“You should be happy he’s not responding. You didn’t want to face either of them, anyway. To have them reject you and tell you whatever was building between us was over,” I say out loud, as if my best friend were there to listen to me.
I open Malcolm’s message, like an addict craving their next hit. He told his family. I couldn’t be prouder of him. My fingers start typing before I even think of responding, already knowing what my heart wants.
Me: I am so proud of you. Now you can live your life without fear and regret.
Then, I add, even though it kills me.
Me: Now you can win your ex back. I’m glad I could help you and I hope you have an amazing life.
Immediately, a check mark pops up. He read it. Did he have his phone in his hand?
Maybe he won’t answer?
But he does. Well, he is since I can see the bubbles dancing. Oh shit! My breathing becomes erratic, and I feel like I’m hyperventilating.
Malcolm: Are you okay? I’m coming over.
I drop my phone on the cushion and stand up from the couch and start to pace. What the fuck am I going to do? He’s coming over, and I don’t want to see him. To have him tell me it’s over. I already know it. I don’t need the rejection in person.
Scout.
Rushing back over to my phone, I pick it up and shoot off a text, too rattled to form words at the moment.
Me: Please tell me you’re free. I need to talk.
Wanting to deter Malcolm from coming over, I shoot him a message.
Me: I’m busy.
Scout: Yeah, want me to come over there? To the coffee shop?
Me: No. Neither of those. We can go to your place or if you want coffee we can go to the Bean and Pastry.
I’m too paranoid to go to our normal coffee shop as that’s where I also have my clients pick me up. I’m not leaving anything to chance by potentially running into them.
Scout confirms the address, and then I rush to my bedroom, change clothes, grab my wallet and keys, and then I’m out the door.
“Damn Bradley, that’s some crazy shit.” Scout blows out a breath as he leans back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair.
After meeting him at the Bean and Pastry, I spilled my whole story.
How I was helping Malcolm get comfortable being out in public so he could get back with his ex, while also developing feelings for him.
How he took care of me when I was sick. Then Jefferson and how hot the sex was. It was an instant attraction.
Two men, and how I fell hard for them both. Then, the Earth opened beneath me, giving me one final blow. The exes they talked about were each other.
“How am I so unlucky? From Nana dying, the money issues with the house, and now this.”
I pick up my coffee and take a sip of the lukewarm fluid.
“Do they know that they have you in common?” he asks.
I shrug my shoulders. “Don’t know. If I hadn’t seen the picture on Jefferson’s phone, I would’ve never known. They would’ve just stopped using the service, or if the requests to see me are what I’m thinking, they plan to blow me off face to face.” My breath hitches with those words.
Scout runs his finger around the rim of his cup, his eyes lasered on me, as he presses his lips together.
Suddenly feeling like I’m being judged, I blurt out, “What?”
He takes a deep breath. “You want me to be honest or just blow smoke up your ass?” He asks, giving me a pointed look as he waits for my answer.
“Truth. Always.”
“There are so many things I want to say, so keep your mouth shut until I finish. Please.” He gives me a playful smirk. “First, you’re not even giving them a chance to speak with you before assuming the worst.”
I go to open my mouth, but he shakes his head, wagging his finger back and forth.
“No talking, just listening.” His words come out stronger. “You’re not even giving them a chance to say anything to you. Don’t let your insecurities and fear keep you from having something that could be magical.”
“But they’re exes,” I whine.
“Do you not remember my situation? They were dating as well, broken up. I ran from them, when all they wanted was to include me. To have a relationship with me. I nearly screwed up, and you don’t want to do that.” He pauses. “Trust me.”
I sigh heavily. “But your scenario is a little different. They both knew they were dating you. Malcolm and Jefferson don’t. How do we come back from that? How do I know they both want me, to share me like the three of you do?”
Scout leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You won’t know until you talk to them. And hell, maybe they’ve talked to each other and pieced the connection together themselves.”
I bite my lower lip, letting my teeth sink into the flesh, taking the slight sense of comfort the tinge of pain gives me.
“I’m just overwhelmed,” I finally admit. “Trying to save the house. The feelings I wasn’t intending to have for two men.”
“Take today. You still need to rest from being sick and really think about them. Determine if your feelings for them are more than an attraction. Then, talk to them. Hell, do it separately, together, whichever way is easiest for you. But you need to get that closure.”
I nod my head. Because he’s right. I just need to man up and stop being a pussy.
“Bradley, do you need help with the house?”
I do the only thing I can. Lie. He doesn’t need to come and clean up the mess of my life.
“No, I’m good. Already talked to Foxy and opened up more hours and I’m going down to talk to the bank and try to get an extension.”
He just looks at me for a minute, not answering at first, before finally speaking. “If you need help, let me know. I’ll do what I can.”
“I know.”
“Okay. I need to go, but think about what I said and talk to them.”
“I will.”
Scout and I both stand and give each other a hug before he picks up his cup and heads to the door. I drop back down in my seat, not wanting to go home, afraid of running into them.
Bank. I’ll go to the bank and beg for some extra time and pay what I can of the amount owed.
I lift my coffee cup to my lips, take a large swallow and stand, tossing the container in the trash as I pass it.
“Excuse me, can you say that again?”
“Of course, Mr. Kelly. The past due balance has been paid in full, as well as the mortgage payment for the next six months.”
My jaw drops. What the fuck? “How?” The question comes out rushed.
“I was not here when the payment was made. But someone came in and handled it. From your reaction, I take it, it wasn’t you?”
“Fuck…I’m sorry. No, it wasn’t. How were they even able to access my account without the information?”
“They would’ve needed your account information, name and birthdate.” Mr. Donnely, the head of the bank, explains. “But this is a good thing. The account is caught up, and you are no longer in danger of losing your home.
“Yeah, umm, okay.” I stand, shake his hand and walk out of the bank confused.
Who would’ve paid my bill? Or even known about it? The information wasn’t public.
Scout offered to help, but he just left the coffee shop, so it couldn’t have been him.
The only other people who knew other than the attorney, and I know it wasn’t them, were Malcolm and Jefferson.
Could they have? Did they?
My phone buzzes in my pocket so I pull it out and check my email.
Subject: New Booking – URGENT RESPONSE NEEDED
I read through it, fuming as I do. It’s Jefferson requesting a date for tomorrow. Not yet. I’m not ready to see him yet, especially after finding out about the house. Did I plan to confront him? Yes, but not right now.
I’ve barely sent back the reply when another message comes through, but it’s for this afternoon at three and it’s from Malcolm. Once again, I decline the booking request. The first thing I need to do is figure out my messed up life. And I can’t see or talk to them until I do.
A small part of me is happy, though. My house is safe, but I can’t take their money. I’m going to have to talk to whichever one of them paid it off and pay them back.