Room for You(40)

She rolled her eyes and left my room with a grin on her face.



The weather was perfect. Kacie’s hand was in mine, and we were strolling around my neighborhood. I showed her The Bumper and my favorite Polish deli that makes the most amazing pierogi casserole. It took us less than ten minutes to get to the coffee shop I went to almost every single day.

Scooter Joe’s Cafe.

“Cute name,” Kacie said as we walked up.

“Wait until you meet Joe.” I winked. “I think you’ll like him, but be careful, he has wandering hands.”

She narrowed her eyes, thoroughly confused as Joe walked up behind her and put his arm around her waist. “Brody, who’s your little friend?”

Joe was harmless, a little old man who refused to slow down after he retired from the plumber’s union, instead dumping all of his savings into this place. It was always packed too, not a bad investment.

Kacie’s posture stiffened as she looked from Joe to me with wide eyes. I chuckled and held my hand up toward Kacie. “Joe, this is my girlfriend, Kacie.”

“Hi Kacie,” Joe said, pulling her in tighter. “Nice to meet ya.”

Kacie slipped out of his grip and spun around, holding her hand out. “Nice to meet you too, Joe.”

“We’re gonna sit in my usual spot, okay?” I said.

“Sounds good, boss. I’ll bring you a couple of menus.” He grinned at Kacie and hurried behind the counter.

“I usually sit at the bistro table outside, that work for you?”

Kacie tried to hide her grin. “Sounds good.”

“What’s that smirk about?” I asked as we walked to the patio.

“Nothing,” she said with a small giggle.

“Liar.”

“I just thought it was cute that you knew what a bistro table was.”

“You can thank my mom for that. I brought her here once when she came to stay with me.” I pulled out her chair and had to fight the urge to stick my nose in her hair as her scent washed over me. “I called it a two-seater. She corrected me.”

Kacie scooted her chair a little closer to mine. “I love hearing you talk about your mom.”

“She’s wonderful—a lot like your mom, actually.”

“What about your dad?” she asked as Joe brought our menus over.

“We’re close, just not as close as my mom. My dad worked a lot of overtime when I was a kid to pay for all my hockey camps and leagues, so I spent most of my time with my mom.”

She leaned in close, resting her chin on her hand.

“When I got my signing bonus, the very first thing I did was drive straight to their house, pay it off and force my dad to retire. Then a couple years later, I built their dream house out in the country.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I’ve been very lucky. What about your dad?” I asked cautiously. “I’ve never heard you really talk about him.”

She picked up the menu and shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing really to tell. He and my mom were married for like fifteen years, then one day he decided to leave. No warning; that was it.”

“Interesting … did he say why?”

“Apparently he’d been seeing someone, got her pregnant and wanted to be with her instead. I haven’t talked to him since that day.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely.

“I’m not.” She forced an uncomfortable smile and looked around. “Where is our waitress? I want a scone.”

A scone or a distraction?





Being with Brody was relaxing, natural. When he looked at me with his piercing gaze my stomach fluttered like a teenager in a brand new relationship, yet we could sit comfortably like an old married couple and hold hands, chatting for hours about nothing at all. We spent the day walking around the city, and way in the back of my mind, I wished it were my everyday life. I could picture us getting up on a Sunday morning and strolling to that little coffee shop, contemplating which movie we wanted to see later, while the girls ate cinnamon scones and danced to the trumpet player on the corner.

I forced that daydream out of my head because that’s exactly what it was … a dream.

This … thing, whatever it was, had no chance of going anywhere special; we were too different.

My relationship with Brody had an expiration date, and I was doing my best not to look at the calendar and just live in the moment.

Right now though, I was supposed to be showering and getting ready for this dinner tonight. I opened the bedroom door and hollered out to him, “Hey, do you by any chance have any extra shampoo and conditioner? I forgot to bring mine.”

“In the linen closet in the bathroom.”

“Thanks!”

“No problem, babe,” he called back nonchalantly like it was just any other Saturday, but those three tiny words sent my heart into a tizzy.

Leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar, I walked into the guest bathroom and slid the linen closet door open and laughed out loud. On the shelf there must have been thirty different shampoos and conditioners—fruity ones, flowery ones, extra-strengthening ones—made by every imaginable salon company. Still snickering, I called out the door again, “Did you rob a beauty supply store or what?”