Page 115 of It's Always Been You
Chapter 38
Evie
“DidyouthinkIwouldn’t be here tonight?” I spit the words over my shoulder as I search the coat room, feeling Brandon’s presence just behind me.
There’s a Mount Everest-sized mound of jackets, coats, and scarves piled high on the bed. Everything else about this New Year’s party is swanky and over-the-top, from the poshly dressed waiters serving crystal flutes of champagne to the endless stream of crab cake bite hors d’oeuvres. You’d assume Yolanda would splurge on a simple coat rack, but no. At this rate, I’ll be looking for my coat all night long.
“Actually, I came here tonight specifically to see you, Genevieve.” When I spare him a glance, he’s leaning against the doorway, looking way too good to be real. Arms crossed, his dress shirt is taut against the muscles of his chest and arms. “Or did you simplyforgetthat you’ve been ignoring my calls and texts lately?”
“Have I?” Approaching the bed, I shove a couple of coats aside to begin my search. He watches me sort through the pile before eventually coming to help me pick up the stray coats that fall onto the floor.
“Are you mad at me?” he wonders, like the nincompoop he is.
“Nope.” There it is. I pull my coat from the mass, then shrug it on.
When I turn to leave, Brandon blocks my path.
“Evie.” I scowl at him. Gosh, he looks incredible tonight. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and tailored navy chinos. My eyes linger on his adorable Christmastie. It has cheerful, cheeky-looking snowmen on it, and it’s so cute that I could kiss him right here, right now.
Crossing my arms, I sigh. “What do you want, Brandon?”
“You’re clearly upset with me, but I don’t understand why,” he says, his voice impassioned. “I’m not the one who came here with someone else tonight.”
“Are you serious?” I bark as my phone buzzes. Whipping it out of my bag, I ignore Jamie’s texts and bring up the number of the local cab company I have saved on my phone. “Cab company” is a bit of a misnomer; Blairs Ferry is too small of a town to support a genuine taxi service. Harley is just a guy I know from high school who hauls drunk people around in his Honda Civic over the holidays.
As I go to click call, my phone disappears from my hand. I glare at my empty fingers.
“What’s going on, Evie?” Brandon asks as he pockets my phone. “In order for this to work, you can’t ice me out every time you’re upset. You need to communicate with me.”
Fuming silently, I shake my head. “What’s the point?” There is no point. Not after what I saw this evening. Not after all that we’ve been through.
All that he’s put me through.
He steps forward. I step back. “Evie . . .”
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper.
His eyes flash with hurt. “Can’t dowhat?”
I huff and turn away, hating that look on his face. “This. You and me.” I drag in a ragged breath. “I can’ttrustyou. This will never work if I can’t trust you.”
I flinch when he gently turns me to face him. “I don’t understand where this is coming from. I thought . . .” He hesitates, then sighs. “Please. Talk to me, Evie. Walk me through what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.”
I scoff.Fine.“Hm, let’s see. Could it have anything to do with the fact that I just caught you flirting withtwodifferent women?”
It’s not like I planned on pursuing a relationship with Brandon after my conversation with Jamie last week. But to see him bounce back so quickly? I mean, why else would Brandon be here tonight? He knows this isn’t my scene, so why else would he have come—if not to try and find someone new to hook up with?
Brandon shakes his head, exasperated. “I wasn’t flirting with anyone.”
“Oh, yeah?” I poke his sternum, recalling how quickly he started dating again after our . . . tryst. There I was, two months pregnant withhischild, confused and heartbroken because he wasn’t answering my calls or texts. Meanwhile, he was picking up Bert’s granddaughter, Erica, for a date. Apart from allowing myself to cry in the bathroom about it just that once, I have never let myself open that emotional can of worms. But the lid popped wide open when I saw him flirting with not one buttwodifferentwomen this evening.
“Then who was that busty blonde woman who was crawling all over you earlier, hm?”
His jaw moves back and forth. “My former assistant. She was drunk.”
My eyes search his, looking for hints of deception. He’s so smooth that I see none. “Did you sleep with her?”
His patience visibly thins. “I haveneverslept with an assistant.”
