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Brianna
M y stomach churns with nerves. I don’t like the idea of taking to Chet any more than Michael does, but I need this last step to be able to move on. And hopefully Chet will move on, too, and let me live my life.
When the car pulls to the curb, I stare at the building as memories crash down on me. Chet and I used to come here all the time. Once upon a time, we were happy.
“You don’t have to do this,” Michael says softly from next to me.
“I need to.”
“You’re worried.”
I flash him a smile. “No, I’m fine.”
“You’re squeezing my hand. Tight.”
I blink, then release the death grip I have on his hand, realizing my knuckles are white. “Sorry. I’m sorry—you’re right. I’m worried. But only because I hate confrontation. And I’m still angry with Chet for what he did. And—”
“Let me talk to him, then.”
“No. It should be me.” I look up at him apologetically. “And I think I should do it alone.”
“What?”
“I mean, if you’d stay here or—”
“I’m coming in. No way in hell I’m leaving you alone in there with Chet. Who knows what he’ll try?”
“Michael—”
“No. We’re not negotiating this. He already put his hands on you. He already caused problems between us. This is not up for discussion.”
I bite my lip, trying to understand where he’s coming from. He’s just trying to take care of me, but it’s the first time anyone has done so. I’m not used to someone having my back. I’m even less used to someone wanting to help. And that’s what Michael wants.
“Can you wait at the bar, maybe?” I ask, taking his hand again. “Give us some space to talk first so that maybe we can resolve this reasonably.”
Amusement flickers across his face before it goes hard again. “You don’t think I can handle this reasonably.”
“I’d like to try first if that’s okay.”
He nods, reaching for the door handle. “We’ll try that first. But we’re bringing them with us.”
He gestures to the two bodyguard who stand just outside the door. My stomach twists. Hell, what do they think? That it’s going to get violent?
Chet has a temper, sure, but don’t we all at some points? He’d never hurt me, though. Not physically.
“Let’s go.” Michael grabs my hand and helps me out of the car.
The pizza place is busy since it’s the weekend. I’m grateful for the noise, the energy, the people. Witnesses, so nothing can get too far out of hand. But I don’t like being here. The same place Chet and I used to come all the time. It was our place.
Kind of like the dive bar on the corner is my place with Michael. We all have our things that remind us of other people, of times we’ve shared with them, and the pizza place reminds me specifically of Chet.
And it hurts. Right in my heart.
“You okay?” Michael asks, feeling my tension.
I swallow. “I’m fine. I just want to get this done.”
I spot Chet at a table near the restrooms in back, and point to the bar. “I see him. Wait right here. Please. Hopefully this won’t take too long.”
Michael’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t argue. He swivels to the bar and finds a place to sit where he’ll have a good view of the table Chet and I sit at.
When I approach, Chet stands and smiles, though his eyes stray to the bar, and then the door in front. “You didn’t have to bring reinforcements. It wasn’t necessary.”
“I don’t want to cause a scene,” I say calmly. “Let’s just sit down and talk. That’s what you wanted, right? Five minutes.”
“I was hoping you’d stay longer.”
My stomach clenches harder. Of course. This isn’t just a quick chat for Chet. He wants something more. And I start to remember all the times in the past that this has happened. A little more money so he could go out, a little more time to pay his part of the rent, a little more understanding when he missed my birthday or didn’t show up for a social function.
In hindsight, Chet was an ass.
We both sit. Chet already has a drink in front of him. I stick with water. I don’t want to have anything inhibiting me when I settle this with him, and really, there shouldn’t be enough time for a drink anyway.
This is an easy conversation. Chet and I are over.
“I made a mistake,” Chet says.
“What do you mean?”
“With us. I didn’t really want it to be over—I was just confused. Pressured. I mean, you wanted this whole life—to get married, to have kids—and I was scrambling to keep up.”
Even though my heartbeat picks up speed, I keep my voice even. “Are you seriously trying to blame this on me? You cheated on me, too, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“No.” He straightens and sips his drink before answering. “No, I mean, it’s not your fault. I’m just trying to get you to see my side.”
“Okay, so you were scared. You felt pressured. So your solution was to cheat, then send me a text that it was over, and pack up your shit and leave when I wasn’t even home. Do you know how badly that hurt?”
My voice rises on the last words. I spot Michael out of the corner of my eye. He starts to stand from the bar, sensing something is off. I shake my head and wave him back down. No way. I am handling this, and I have things I need to say to Chet.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Chet says. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Anything would have better than that, but mostly just acting like a decent human being would have been best. You should have talked to me.”
“I know. I should have, and I regret that. I want to start over, I want to make this right. We were good together,” Chet says.
“It was an unhealthy relationship.”
“That’s not—” He frowns and tries a different tactic. “So we’ll make it better. I want to settle down with you. We can move to a nice small house, have some kids, run a business together.”
My business. He means my business. Because as far as I know, he doesn’t have any aspirations of his own. I don’t even know if he has a job anymore.
“We’re not good for each other,” I say, all the fight gone. Chet is pathetic. And sure, maybe one day I’ll be able to wish him luck with his next relationship or whatever he’s doing in life, but right now, I just want to be done with him.
“And he’s good for you?” Chet asks, pointing to Michael. “You don’t even know the guy and you’re engaged?”
He eyes the ring on my finger, but doesn’t say anything else. It’s significantly larger than the one I got for our engagement, and I’m sure Chet’s aware who bought it for me.
“I do know him,” I say. “He’s a good man. And yes, we’re engaged.”
“It took you—what? Ten seconds to find someone else? Come on Brianna, that isn’t you. It takes you time to get to know someone, and you’re not like him. That isn’t your world.”
“Maybe you know less about me than you thought.”
“I know everything about you,” Chet says, his voice lowering. His eyes lock on mine. “Remember all those talks we used to have on the rooftop? Remember what we were going to name our kids?”
My heart clutches. Those were good talks. And we had a plan. A future. Despite what had happened, I’d truly loved Chet.
“I know about your family,” Chet continues. “I know how important family is to you because of that. How much does he know about everything?”
Nothing. My mind betrays me. Chet’s right. Michael knows nothing about me. But isn’t that what we’re trying to change by starting over?
“I thought so,” Chet says.
He reaches out and touches my hand. “Come on. Come home with me.”
I pull back, and then stand when I see Michael move from the bar. He walks this way before I can stop him. I have to fix this—no, we have to get out of here before things get worse.
“We’re leaving,” Michael says, stepping to my side.
“She doesn’t want to go with you,” Chet says. He glances at me. “We have things we need to talk about. We have a future. A wedding. Kids. And you two barely know each other. Give it up.”
Michael’s jaw clenches. I grip his arm to stop him from going after Chet. “Stop it. We’re finished, Chet.”
His eyes simmer with anger, mostly directed at Michael. “He can’t commit—he’s going to leave you, too. Don’t make another mistake, Brianna.”
Chet always did know the perfect thing to say to hurt me. I lift my chin, and even though my voice wobbles, I say, “Fuck you,” before turning for the exit.
I walk straight out into the warm evening, my cheeks on fire, my heart racing.
“Miss Stevens,” one of the guards says. He takes my elbow gently and guides me to the car. “Here you go.”
I get inside, fighting off tears, feeling worse than before I talked to Chet. Moments later, Michael gets into the back seat with me and instructs the driver to take us home.
I feel empty and tired. When Michael’s arm comes around me, I lean into him, needing the comfort.
“He’s an idiot and he’s wrong,” Michael says. “He knows nothing about us.”
I nod, though I’m struggling to get on board.
“You believe me, don’t you?” Michael tips my chin up to see my face. “I’m not like Chet. I know we have this…arrangement, but I’d never treat you like he did. Ever.”
My heart mends together just slightly. I believe him. For whatever reason, and even though we really don’t know each other all that well, I believe him. “I know.”
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“Is everything dealt with between you guys?”
“As much as it can be.”
He pauses a long moment before he finally asks, “Do you want to be with him again?”
I hear the vulnerability in his voice and I can relate. I’ve been there before, just wanting the assurance that someone loves me. That someone wants me.
“No.” I lift my lips to kiss his jaw. “I want to be with you.”
I don’t miss the soft breath he releases or the way his arm curls tighter around me. But we’re both silent as we ride the rest of the way home.