The Wrong Right Man(38)
“You like him?”
“Yeah. I like him.”
“You don’t know him!” I screech then take a few deep breaths, hoping to calm myself down before I cause a scene. I thought I might have finally gotten through to Braxton. I thought maybe, just maybe, me hanging up on him and not calling him back or returning his texts or e-mails this morning might have worked to make him realize he can’t just take over anytime he wants to get his way. I guess I was wrong, and I also now know he has no limits. He will do whatever is necessary to get his way, including getting my brother on his side. My brother who has never liked any man I’ve ever dated.
“We’ll talk after you get your shit,” Jamie says, placing his hands over mine on the table, and I focus on him then jump slightly when my box is dropped before me, causing the table to shake.
I look from the box to Troy and can tell he wants to say something, but because of Jamie, he’s unsure how to proceed. He runs a hand through his hair with his eyes locked on mine, and the look he gives me is filled with regret and sadness—two emotions that shouldn’t make me feel sorry for him but still do.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs just as softly, and those old feelings I used to have for him come to the surface. I don’t want him; I don’t even like him anymore, but a part of me still cares about him and is disappointed he wasn’t who I thought he was.
“I know. Me too,” I agree with my throat tight, and he nods once before he turns around and leaves. I watch him go then duck my head, unwilling to allow the tears I feel burning the back of my throat to fill my eyes. I never got closure when it came to him. I never had a chance to ask him why he did what he did. One day, we were together, and I thought I was happy. Then the next, things between us were over and our lives were forever changed. I don’t know if things would have lasted between us if he hadn’t cheated, and I think that’s one of the hardest things for me to come to terms with. It’s always easy to hate someone when they have wronged you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still care about them, even if you shouldn’t.
“Dakota.” Jamie touches my arm, and I yell at myself to pull it together before I lift my head to look at him. “Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry, sis,” he whispers, and my shoulders shake as the pain in my chest expands.
I don’t remember the last time I cried, but with everything that has been going on, I can’t hold back the tears no matter how hard I try.
“I’m okay.” I try to breathe, to attempt to get myself together, but the stupid tears continue to fall.
“Come on. Let’s get you back home.” Jamie stands, taking my box that is falling apart at the seams, and puts it under his arm before taking my hand and pulling me up. I stand with him then burrow into his side when he wraps his arm around me.
We walk down the block to my building with tears still falling from my eyes. Once we get inside, he leads us to the elevator, and then I let us into my apartment and head right for the couch, while Jamie goes to the kitchen. I listen to him fill my tea kettle, and then a few minutes later, he comes over to me with a cup of my favorite tea, setting it on the coffee table before sitting and placing my feet on his lap.
“I really fucking hate you’re upset over that piece of shit,” he mutters, slipping the blanket from the back of the couch to rest it over me.
“I’m not upset about him. Or it’s not all about him,” I say while leaning forward to grab the box of Kleenex from the table, tugging a couple out before lying back down and dabbing my eyes that have finally stopped leaking.
“Is it about Braxton?”
“Some.” I swallow, not even sure myself. “I think it’s everything—not getting closure with Troy, moving in to my own place, my job, my relationship with Braxton, and how there are times I want nothing more than to dive into things with him head-first, and others when he does stuff that makes me question if I should.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” he asks, and the disappointment in his voice causes a fresh wave of tears to fill my eyes.
That’s a good question. “I don’t know,” I admit while sitting up and grabbing my tea, needing the warmth and a moment to try to figure out my own thoughts. I’ve always talked to Jamie about everything going on in my life, but maybe a part of me didn’t want to tell him the things I’ve had issues with when it comes to Braxton and didn’t want Jamie to hate him before I’ve had a chance to figure out if I could possibly be falling for him. “I think I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel about him and didn’t want to talk to you about him until I did.”
“You like him.”
I know it’s not a question.
I lick my lips and nod once. “I do—most of the time anyway. When we’re together without the outside world interfering, he makes me happy, he makes me laugh, and he makes me feel like I’m important, good enough.” I pull in a deep breath. “But there are times when he makes me question my own sanity, times he does things I hate and get frustrated, because it’s like he doesn’t believe he’s doing anything wrong.”
His eyes narrow. “Things like what?”
I roll my eyes. “Like calling to tell you I was meeting up with Troy so you could show up.” I shake my head. “Who does something like that?”