She’s too well-mannered to do the latter.
Too soft-hearted to do the former.
“Think I’m going to order the eggs Benedict.” Luke peruses his menu, speaking to no one in particular.
The faintest flush resides on Brie’s cheeks. Grant whips out his phone, disconnecting from the rest of us as he taps out a text to God knows who.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Brie tucks a small bag under her arm and disappears around the corner to the restrooms.
Claire, Luke, and I damn near sigh in collective relief.
Grant doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.
“Dude.” I reach across the table and yank his phone out of his hand to get his attention. “Not cool putting her on the spot like that in front of us.”
He reaches for it—and misses. “Not cool taking my fucking phone out of my hand. What are we? Twelve?”
I don’t remind him that neither of us had cell phones at that age. I don’t remind him of our humble roots, though maybe someone should. The older we get—and the fatter his bank account— the more he seems to forget where he came from.
Placing the phone down in front of me, I lean forward to say something … only I stop when a distracting text fills his screen.
Snatching it up, I shove it at him.
“Seriously?” I wrinkle my nose at him. The image of Serena’s au naturel teardrop tits is now forever burned into my memory. “Thought you were done with her?”
He examines the text, his lips lifting into a half-smirk. “She’s obsessed with me. What can I say?”
“How about you take responsibility for your part in that?” I shoot him a look. “Maybe, I don’t know, tell her to stop texting you because you’re engaged to the love of your life?”
I use air quotes around love of your life.
“The hell is your problem? Who died and made you the relationship police? You’ve never given two shits about this kind of stuff before …” He taps out a response to Serena, and judging by the full-on smile engulfing his face, it’s fair to say he isn’t telling her to stop sending him nudes.
Claire places a hand on my forearm.
“Are we ready to order?” Our server returns with a chipper grin that fades the instant she realizes she left for a few minutes and returned to a war zone. “Looks like you could use a few more minutes … I’ll check back in a bit.”
“Grant, maybe you should go find Brie? Make sure she’s okay?” Claire sips her water.
He doesn’t look up from his phone. “She’s fine.”
He doesn’t know that though. And he obviously doesn’t care.
Grant hungover and in a mood is a combination I haven’t seen since college. It can only get uglier from here.
Rising, I toss my napkin on the table.
I’ll fucking do it.
Before anyone has a chance to protest, I stride toward the restrooms, a man on a mission. I stop short when I find her leaning against the wall, her phone pressed to her ear. Perhaps she didn’t shy away because he put her on the spot. Maybe she had to make a simple phone call.
“Hey,” she says when she sees me, covering the receiver on her phone. Lifting a finger, she adds, “Give me a second. Just finishing up a work call.”
A few seconds later, she hangs up and turns back to me.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” I say, embracing how bizarre it is that I’m the one checking on her while her fiancé sits back at the table, feasting his eyes on a buffet of nudes from his longtime (and ongoing) fuck buddy.
Her dark brows gather, but then her expression softens, and she waves a hand. “Oh. Yeah. No. I’m good. Everything’s good.”
“Is it?” I keep my voice low, intimately so.
She tilts her head, studying me through squinting emerald eyes. “For now, yes.”
All the things I want to say in this moment are all the things I can’t say.
You’re making the right decision leaving him …
Grant is notoriously self-centered and unfiltered when he’s in a mood …
If he truly loved you, he wouldn’t be fucking another woman behind your back …
He doesn’t deserve you …
You should be mine …
But I say none of those things because Grant’s relationship shortcomings aside, he’s still my best friend. My brother. The most loyal friend I’ve ever had. And we’re not the kind of men who have ever let a woman come between us.
He would never throw me under the bus.
I’m not about to do it to him.
Besides, Brie’s mind is made up. She’s leaving him. My opinions and Grant’s secret second life are irrelevant. They won’t make a difference either way.
“I’ll be back to the table in a minute. Just have to make one more work call,” she says. “Go ahead and order without me if you need to.”