A guy couldn’t get lost in short hair...
“I’ll take it from here,” he said when they were still a good six feet away. He was about to see Ella again.
And was suddenly struck with the knowledge that he couldn’t have witnesses. He almost turned to leave.
Would have if he knew how in the hell to turn his back on unpleasantness. But he didn’t. No, Brett was the type who saw a divorce attorney before the separation.
“Ella.” Taking a perverse pleasure as she jumped when he came up beside her table, Brett pulled out a chair.
A glass of water sat in front of her.
Not wine.
Good.
“Have you ordered?” he asked.
God, she looked good. Great. Better than ever. How long had it been since he’d seen her? A year? Two?
Four years, three months, one week and two days. Give or take a week, his mind, its usual relentless self, reminded him. He hadn’t kept count. Not even he was that anal. No, he’d lain in bed the other night—wide awake when he’d needed to be well rested for his meeting the following morning—and completely relived that last time. She’d been clearing her things out of the home they’d bought in Santa Barbara after he’d sold the dot-com.
He’d lain in bed and counted how long ago that had been.
And marveled at how far he’d come since then...
“You look good, Brett.” Her smile, oh, God, that smile. He had no idea if she’d ever answered his question about ordering.
And a waitress was approaching.
“We’ll have a bottle of wine,” he blurted. Just a small bottle. He named the one. It went well with...
What the hell. He liked it. And knew she did, too.
“I don’t...” Ella was shaking her head.
He pretended not to see. “And bring us the bread-and-cheese plate,” he continued, naming a popular Donovan’s appetizer.
Bread, wine...and time. Just enough to deal with this situation. And not a second more.
“Would you like two glasses with that?” the waitress, someone he didn’t recognize, asked.
“Yes.”
Ella didn’t argue. Brett relaxed just a tad.
And the woman left.
* * *
CHLOE WASN’T EXPECTING her anytime soon. Ella had called her sister-in-law before leaving the hospital to let her know she was working late and had no idea when she’d be home. Chloe had said she’d fix Cody fish sticks for dinner. She’d taken him to the complex park that afternoon. Had met another mother there with her toddler. A little girl.
She’d sounded more relaxed than Ella had heard her since she’d brought Chloe to Santa Raquel to stay with her.
“I didn’t need any wine,” she said now. But she lied. She did need it. If she was going to get through this meeting without throwing herself at her ex-husband’s chest and begging him to hold her.
The temptation was made worse by the fact that she knew he’d do it if she asked. And then he’d let her go.
Because that was Brett’s way.