CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Amelia
Bryson looks exactly the same as he did when he walked out on us over four years ago.
Except now his hair is neatly trimmed and he’s clean shaven.
He’s wearing a polo with his jeans instead of a concert t-shirt, and his smile looks open and nervous, rather than tense and forced, as it so often looked in the last few months we were together.
A few heads turn as he crosses the restaurant. Maybe locals who remember him, but more likely just people checking him out. He’s always been handsome, and he’s even more handsome now. Not because any of his features have changed, but because of the way he carries himself confidently.
He also looks like he’s built some extra muscle. He’s definitely bulkier than when we dated.
But as he stops next to our table, I don’t feel any attraction to him. Just fondness and exasperation and fear. That last part is new, but fondness and exasperation were constant feelings I had around him once the love had died.
“You look good,” he says, clearly waiting for something.
“I’m not going to get up and hug you, Bryson,” I say, exasperation taking the lead. “You’re still the guy who abandoned me when I was eight months pregnant with our baby.”
Instead of getting frustrated, as he would have done four years ago, his smile widens as he pulls out his chair and sits. “I always loved your bluntness. I never had to wonder where I stood with you.”
“You hated my bluntness,” I say. “Don’t tell me you’ve become one of those people who sugarcoats the past.”
“I never hated—”
“Can I take your drink order?” our server interrupts Bryson. She looks like she’s still in high school and eager to move as many tables as quickly as possible to make those tips. Which works for me. I have no desire to linger over conversation and age-old reminiscences.
Bryson turns his smile on her. His teeth are whiter than I remembered. And his charm is homier, as he gives the girl our order and thanks her. He’s gone fully corporate.
I could probably learn a thing or three from him.
Not that I’ll ever admit it to him.
As soon as the server leaves, he turns back to me, still in charming mode.
“Put that thing away,” I say. “I’m not one of your clients.”
He grins like he thinks I’m adorable. “My smile? I’m just happy you agreed to see me. I sure as hell don’t deserve it.”
“You know what men get?” I’ve had a long time to think about these things, and I’m not holding back on his behalf.
“They get to walk away from their responsibilities and grow up on their own timeline. I had no choice but to grow the hell up as soon as Harper was born. I had to figure out how to take care of her and my parents, while you went away and clearly did very well for yourself.”
Finally, that damn smile falls. It doesn’t make me feel any better.
“I owe you everything, Melly. And I’ll never stop owing you, okay?
I’m here, and I’m all in. I will do whatever you want.
” He leans in, so damn sincere. “Seriously. Want me to walk around town wearing a sign declaring how I let you down? I’ll do it.
Want me to give you every dime I earn and live in a tent on the side of the mountain?
I’ll do that too. I messed up so bad, Melly.
Knowing how badly I messed up is the reason I didn’t come back until I could be a help to you and not a burden. ”
And I believe him. Bryson may have changed, but not so much that he’s suddenly become a good liar. “I appreciate that, Bryson. I really do, but I’m not sure about letting you—”
The server sets his drink on the table, and I suddenly wish I’d picked a park bench or the library to meet with him. I want no interruptions or distractions.
“Can I take your order?”
We order. An omelet for me and pancakes for him.
“Still a pancakes guy,” I say, my smile slipping out.
He mock-glares at me. “You’ll never convince me waffles are better, Melly. Give it up.”
He sobers just as quickly. “And I get it. Of course you’re not going to be immediately comfortable with my walking back into Harper’s life. You wouldn’t be the amazing mother I’m sure you are if you were. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to prove—”
“Just promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t disappear out of her life again, Bryson. I’m giving you one chance. Screw it up and there won’t be a second until she’s eighteen and can tell you to go to hell herself.”
His face lights up with a joy that can’t be faked. “I swear it. I’m never walking away from Harper or you again.”
I snort. “Please don’t tell me you think there’s any chance in hell of you and me getting together again.”
He flashes me that damn charming smile. “Well, I mean, I hadn’t completely written off the idea.”
I want to relax into this banter, but I can’t quite yet. “There’s no judge in the world who’d take Harper from me and give you full custody, but I want you to promise me you’ll never try for it.”
He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Never, Amelia. I’ll put it in writing and have it notarized, okay? I’m never going to try to take our girl away from you. I just want the opportunity to be in her life.”
“I want to prepare her for meeting you,” I say.
Because what else can I do? I’m not going to keep Bryson and Harper apart, and there’s no point in dragging this out.
Bryson has never been cruel, and all I can really do is hope he sticks around.
As much as I’d like to, I can’t control the situation beyond that.
“And the first few times you two get together, I want to be there, okay?”
His eyes widen. “Seriously? That’s it? You’re going to let me meet her?” He looks absolutely over the moon happy.
“I’m not going to keep Harper from her father. Why don’t you meet us at the playground this afternoon? Around two? I’ll text you the address.”
He’s practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ll be there. Thank you, Amelia.”
“She deserves to have a father, but fuck it up and I will destroy you. I have plenty of friends who’ll help me bury a body.”
“I won’t fuck it up. I swear.”
The server brings our food, and we dig in. I’m not sure what to say now that that’s out of the way.
Bryson doesn’t have the same problem. “Will you tell me about her? What was the delivery like? Was she a quiet baby or did she wake the whole neighborhood every night?”
Our server hates us because we stay at that table long after we’ve finished eating. I tell him all the stories, and he soaks them up like he’s been starving for them. By the time I’m out of stories, his eyes are glassy.
“I’ve missed so much. I owe you so much more than I can ever make up.”
“You’re here now,” I say. “And you might be able to make it up to me by the time we’re both ninety.”
He takes the check from the server and pays for our meal. I don’t even offer.
As we’re leaving the diner together, I see a guy in a hat and sunglasses on a bench outside the restaurant who looks an awful lot like Deacon. I’d recognize those sexy forearms anywhere.
Bryson has already started in the direction of the bench, and he’s expecting me to walk with him, because he’s still talking. I do not want to walk by Deacon and have him recognize me and want to talk. I don’t even want him to see me with Bryson and start asking questions.
It’s like what Deacon and I have is this delicate bubble, and the slightest hiccup could burst it. I’m not ready to lose the fun adult time we’ve been having.
I grab Bryson’s arm and yank, but he resists, looking back over his shoulder at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Shit. This is going to create even more of a scene.
I drop his arm, turn, and just start walking in the other direction.
He catches up seconds later. “Um, my car’s parked the other way. Did I do something to piss you off?”
“Just keep walking,” I say in a low voice. I don’t want Deacon to hear my voice or notice me at all.
“Um, okay.” Bryson shuts up and stays by my side.
He doesn’t question me or suggest I’m being hysterical or any of the things he would have done when we were together if I’d acted this way.
We’re a block away from the restaurant and Deacon when I finally speak. I still haven’t figured out exactly the right thing to say, but I have to say something.
“There’s a guy back there I want to avoid.”
Bryson stops in his tracks and looks back the way we came. “Is someone hassling you, Melly? Where is he?”
OK, so he hasn’t changed that much. I have to laugh at his narrowed glare and clenched fists. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just some guy I’m dating casually.”
He relaxes, but he still looks worried. “And you don’t want him to see you out with another guy?”
“Uh-huh.”
He studies me, arms over his chest. “Is he the jealous type? You’re casual, right? And I’ll tell him I’m your ex if you want.”
Damn it. I don’t want Bryson thinking badly of Deacon. “He’s not the jealous type. He’s the type I don’t want knowing about my family drama. We’re the kind of casual where we don’t talk about our personal lives.”
“And he thinks you don’t have an ex or go out to eat in this town?”
I don’t like the way Bryson’s studying me like he can read me. He can’t read me. He doesn’t know me anymore. “Of course he knows I have exes. Just let it go, Bryson. I don’t want to run into him, that’s all.”
He steps closer, leaning in. “If you’re afraid of him, you can tell me. I’ll make sure he never comes near you or Harper again.”
I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t even know about Harper. That’s why I didn’t want to run into him with you. Because you’d introduce yourself as Harper’s dad, and I don’t want him to know I have a child.”
He stares at me, clearly baffled. “How does he not know you have a child?”
“He only comes over when Harper’s with my parents. I put all her toys in her room and close her door.”
He shakes his head. “Why? I mean, I get you not wanting Harper to meet the guy you’re seeing if it’s casual, but why can’t he even know about her?”