Page 37 of The Rules We Broke
He may have tricked me into this day, but it wasn’t a date. I couldn’t break the rules. Not again.
Inside, it was exactly the same. Red vinyl booths. Black-and-white tile. Even the old jukebox still lit up.
Brady asked for a booth. I slid in beside Caroline. Not beside him. Not like before.
He looked disappointed—but he still smiled.
The boy, the man, was killing me.
Mrs. Kellen, the owner, emerged before we could settle in.
“Randy! Come out here and see who’s here!” she called to the back, before turning to us. “Look at the two of you, all grown up. Iknewyou’d end up together—and now here you are with your little carrot-top.”
I thought she might cry. Honestly, I felt like crying too.
“Mrs. Kellen . . . ” I started, but before I could explain, her husband joined her.
“I told you he’d never marry that Miss Alabama girl,” she said triumphantly, pointing at Brady. “Whenever I saw you two on TV, I could tell—you never looked at her like you looked at Miss Ellie.”
I used to think the same thing, but I couldn’t let myself believe it, then or now.
Brady’s stare landed on me, full force. My cheeks flushed. My eyes stung.
I cleared my throat. “Mrs. Kellen, we’re not married. And Caroline is Brady’s niece.”
She blinked. “Oh.” Then she swatted Brady with a menu. “Well, boy—what’ve you been waiting for?”
I wanted to disappear.
Brady cleared his throat. “Mrs. Kellen, I think we’d like to order now.”
She looked mildly disappointed, but took our order: three cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate milkshakes. No sharing. Not this time.
The second she left, Caroline leaned toward Brady. “Why did that lady think you and Miss Ellie were married?”
Brady glanced at me before turning to her with obvious affection. “Because, darlin’, Miss Ellie used to be my girlfriend.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, looking to me for confirmation.
“That was a long time ago,” I said, more to myself.
“It wasn’t that long ago,” Brady added.
When I met his gaze, it was the same look he gave me all those years ago—right before our first kiss. I couldn’t hold it. I turned to Caroline. “Sugar, want to pick a song on the jukebox?”
She nodded with delight. As we slid out, Brady stood like a gentleman. Before I made it past him, he touched my arm.
“I really am sorry, Ellie.”
I shrugged and followed Caroline, heart heavier than I cared to admit.
Caroline, true country girl that she was, picked Brad Paisley. Her nonstop chatter saved me from facing Brady again too soon.
But while she talked, my mind drifted to nights at that very booth—dreaming of babies with his curls and eyes, a little girl named Emily, a boy named after Brady. All foolish thoughts. But somehow, they still lived in the corners of me.
The food arrived quickly. I’d lost my appetite, but I did my best to eat. I even introduced Caroline to the sacred ritual of dipping fries in milkshakes.
She loved it. Brady didnot.
