Page 91 of Back in the Saddle

Braydon.

We were together for nearly four years and lived together for over two.

Then one day, he came home, and he’d been acting weird for a while, so I was sure he was going to propose.

And I was going to say yes.

He didn’t.

He sat me down and shared that my having no ambition, other than to be a kickass mixologist, troubled him. He then confessed he’d been waiting for me to change my mind and exhibit some kind of loftier life goal. But he’d learned that wasn’t going to happen, and even though he felt deeply for me, he couldn’t waste any more time with a woman like me.

I’d been destroyed.

I’d loved him. Saw a future with him. Wanted to have his kids. And I didn’t see his betrayal to who I was—the woman he’d spent four years with—coming.

No, I thought he was going to produce a ring.

In other words, he’d totally blindsided me.

It would take a long time for me to understand he was a snob. That his issue with me had no teeth.

I made okay money. I was very good at what I did. I loved my job and the people I worked with (and for) and brought home zero stress, which was as good as a trunk full of gold. Especially in the life I’d lived with my parents (a life Braydon knew all about, he’d even met them), and then after Jeff started having symptoms, and got diagnosed, where every day was stress, until I struck out on my own and finally found SC.

But I’d still been heartbroken at Braydon’s personality betrayal.

Now, I could see how huge a bullet I’d dodged.

Braydon could hold hands, sure.

But if he was in this situation, he’d be urging me to calm down or telling me I was overreacting.

Wait.

No.

He wouldn’t rush to shave and dress so I didn’t drive when I was fretting and my mind was messed up.

He’d say, “Let me know how it goes,” and turn on the NFL pregame.

On these thoughts, I tightened my fingers around Eric’s and said, “Thank you for driving me.”

His response was to lift my hand and touch his lips to my fingers.

Totally dodged a bullet.

He swung into the Oasis lot and parked in my spot.

We hit the courtyard to see my fellow tenants Patsy, Shanti, Bill and Zach putting up holiday decorations.

Shanti, by the by, was a new addition to The Surf Club. When Tito started sniffing around that he needed extra help during the final shift, Raye recruited her. She worked the evenings. She was around the age of my posse, and I’d been meaning to connect with her to get to know her better, because, from what I already knew, she was the shit.

“Heya, Jess!” Patsy called.

Shanti had straightened from organizing fake evergreen boughs, and she was staring at Eric.

Zach was organizing red bows at the outdoor table while his partner, Bill, was in a corner of the courtyard arranging massive Christmas baubles that came up to his waist that were red and green plaid.

They’d also stopped doing what they were doing and were staring at Eric.

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