Page 47 of Mad for Madison

Bradley chuckled, his hand brushing mine under the table again. “Good,” he said softly, just loud enough for me to hear.

Dinner carried on, filled with stories and laughter. Lily’s questions and declarations peppered the conversation, and Dorothy’s sharp wit kept us all entertained. It was messy and imperfect and entirely wonderful—a glimpse into a life I hadn’t dared to imagine before.

And as the night went on, I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, I was ready to be a part of it. Only it required a great deal of pretending that I hadn’t been someone else up until a few short weeks ago.

“And what do you do, Madison?” Dorothy asked over a glass of sherry after Lily had already gone to bed—with great protest—and we retreated to the living room.

Tingles ran down my spine.

“He’s an artist, Gran,” Bradley said. “I told you.”

The ringing in my ears seemed to be passing. Or so I hoped.

“I just thought you had a day job,” Dorothy said. “I apologize.”

“No apologies are needed,” I said, my mouth dry. “I paint. It’s not making me a fortune yet.”

That provoked a soft laugh from Dorothy. She had nothing but encouragement for my work, but my ears were flooded with the sound of my terrified heart for the rest of the evening.

Bradley offered to see me out when the yawns cut through our chatter more often than not.

He walked me to the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. The gesture was casual, but it grounded me, like a tether keeping me from drifting too far into the storm building inside. Dorothy’s kindness and Lily’s trust had been overwhelming in their sincerity, and I felt like an intruder in a life so full of light, love, and warmth. In someone else’s life altogether.

Outside, the drizzle had turned to a steady rain, cold and relentless. Bradley paused, pulling my coat tighter around me before handing me his umbrella. His fingers lingered on mine for a beat too long, and I forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t see the cracks forming beneath it.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

“Yeah,” I lied.

He nodded, his expression softening. “They really like you, you know. Gran, Lily—they see what I see.”

Those words hit like a punch to the gut, though they were meant as reassurance. What did he see? The version of me I’d carefully constructed for tonight or the one I couldn’t bear to look at in the mirror?

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the rain. “For everything.”

Bradley smiled, that warm, steady thing that had always made me feel safe. “Get home safe, okay? Call me when you’re there.”

I nodded, stepping back and turning toward the street. The rain blurred the edges of everything—streetlights, passing cars,my own thoughts. A gust of wind picked up, sending the rain sideways.

I swallowed the knot that had swelled in my throat. “I can’t do this,” I said, my voice barely louder than the growing lashes of wind and rain.

“I didn’t wanna be pushy,” Bradley said behind me. “But you’re welcome to stay the night.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said, turning to face him. It was the least I could do. But the moment my gaze found his warm eyes, the resolve in me wavered. “Bradley…”You’re too good for me, I thought. Those were the words I couldn’t say to him. He would never believe it. “I can’t…keep doing this.”

A sliver of concern crossed his face, but Bradley smoothed it, pretending not to understand. “What do you mean?”

“Please,” I whispered just as unstoppable tears brimmed in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. “You know what I mean.”

Bradley’s forced calm lingered for a moment longer, then fell away, revealing a wounded expression that I almost couldn’t bear. His lips pursed, and he swallowed, all his muscles stiffening and his gaze cooling. “Say it.”

I had that coming. “Bradley, please…”

“Say it, Madison,” he insisted, his voice darker. “If you have something on your mind, say the damn words.”

My heart hammered in my chest, and I wished it would break. I wished it would shatter so I wouldn’t have to feel anything anymore. “I can’t keep lying,” I said, words ripping away from me.

Bradley’s upper lip curled, and he clenched his fists. The rain poured around us, sharp and relentless, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging in Bradley’s eyes. His hand fell away from mine, and the loss of his touch felt like the first crack of a dam about to burst. He stared at me, water dripping downhis face, his features tight with confusion, anger, and something I couldn’t bear to name.

---