Page 38 of Waiting for Her

“And definitely not on the fucking phone. Were you scared of my reaction?”

“No! I promise! That wasn’t it. I wasn’t thinking straight and I knew you needed to know.” I pause and blow out a breath. “When you said you were going to call me tonight, I thought you just wanted to clear the air about the story. What your expectations are. Then… I don’t know. I apparently didn’t know how to stop talking.”

“I’m gonna need a little bit of time to digest all this. And I need the entire story but I can’t do this now. Not over the phone.”

“I get it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I… you’re okay with me continuing with the story?”

Silence fills the other side of my phone, my heart racing while I wait for his answer. It’s not the story I’m concerned with. Yes, I want to do it but for more reasons than it being an amazing opportunity. The thought of not being around him… I shake my head. I can’t even go there. This job, it’s my second chance. I’ve tried living my life without him and it doesn’t work.

He clears his throat and says with a gruff voice, “We’re professionals, right?”

“If this afternoon in your office is any indication, that’s debatable.” I bite back a groan, frustrated that I can’t shut up for once. Especially now, when it’s not anywhere close to the right time to be joking.

“Bye, Bri.”

And then the line goes dead. I stare at the phone in my hand for a few seconds before I startle at a crash that sounds like glass breaking. I stand up and look around, confused by what I’m seeing.

Grady.

Then I see him several houses down, his house on the street perpendicular to mine.

The back of my townhouse butts up to the backyards of a neighborhood on a large city block.

Grady’s neighborhood, apparently.

I stare at him, a table upturned on his patio, the remnants of what was once a potted plant scattered on the ground around him along with what appears to be tiny shards of glass I can only assume was his patio table. He’s on his haunches, elbows on his knees.

There’s a large yellow lab staring up at him by his side. He pats the top of his head, probably to reassure him all is okay, that he’s done freaking out, then he moves him behind him out of the danger of stepping on the glass.

There’s so much more to this story, to the time of my life that was so out of control I couldn’t see up from down. The miscarriage was the beginning of my downhill spiral, and when he hears the rest of it, I doubt he’ll be able to look me in the eye again.

I watch him from my place across our lawns, a war waging within himself as he stands up and paces around the cement patio. I debate whether or not I should walk over. My stomach twists with guilt, hardly being able to believe I allowed myself to slip up and tell him about the miscarriage over the phone.

Stupid.

Wiping away the tears from my cheeks, I can’t take my eyes off Grady, or his home I was so curious about before I potentially screwed up any chance I had at moving forward with him.

Aside from the fact his home is surrounded so closely by others, it’s exactly what I would have envisioned he would live in. Dark green with cream trim, it looks rustic with a modern twist. No doubt the inside is decorated perfectly, given that his mom is an interior designer. A grill and outdoor kitchen area is nestled close to the house, something he told me he always wanted. And, of course, it looks like his dad and he built a new area in his backyard for him to workout, much like he had at his childhood home. I wouldn’t be shocked if the women of the neighborhood closely monitor his workout sessions.

White hot jealousy rips through me.

Jealousy I have no right to feel, but it’s there.

At the simple prospect of other women watching him. Ridiculous as it may be.

My eyes don’t leave him as he moves from one end to the other as he leans against a countertop. He shakes his head and stands straight, wiping his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. My heart cracks open at the thought of him shedding tears over the loss of our baby.

I watch as he makes his way back into his home, a soft slap to his thigh and nod of his head and his dog follows him. He disappears from my sight and I can’t decide if I feel better or worse.

Hearing his heartbreak was hard enough but seeing it might just break me.

Grady

“Can you comeover?”

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