“Sure,” I say, pushing from the chair. “What’s her name?”
“Brittany.” My entire body freezes at the familiar voice—and it’s not Avery’s.
No. No fucking way. Palms sweating, heart pounding, I spin around and come face-to-face with the last person I expected to see. And then it hits me. Why exactly am I seeing her … here … at the hospital where I work?
“What are you doing here?” My words come out harsher than I intended, and Brit flinches as though I slapped her. Avery’s eyes snap toward me, her lips parted in shock. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just—”
“It’s just what, Tyson?” Brit growls, hands on hips. “Did you think I’d just go away … that you’d never see me again?” I shake my head, but she doesn’t give me the chance to respond. “This is my home too. My family is here. And if you would’ve responded to one of my four text messages, then you wouldn’t look so damn shell-shocked right now.”
Fuck.
Brit has sent me a text every day for the past four days asking to talk, but I never answered. It’s either because I’m a fucking dick and don’t really care what she could possibly want, or I’m a pussy and don’t want to face the train wreck I caused. Either way, she’s right. It would’ve been nice to prepare myself for this. And Harley … it would’ve been nice to prepare Harley.
I open my mouth, but Avery chimes in before I have a chance. “Wait a minute.” Her eyes bounce between Brit’s and mine several times before narrowing on me. “I’m so confused. How do you two know each other?”
“Do you want to tell her or should I?” Brit says. Every single part of me wants to be pissed at her and demand to know what kind of game she’s trying to play. But when she slips her bottom lip between her teeth, I instantly recognize her tell-tale sign indicating she’s nervous, and something inside of me relaxes.
“Brit—Brittany and I were engaged.”
Avery’s eyes widen and her mouth opens, then it quickly slams shut. I can see when the realization of the situation finally dawns.
“Oh, shit.” A hand flies to her mouth. “But you work … and”—she turns toward Brit—“you work”—she turns toward me again, eyes wide—“and Harley works …” Avery’s words trail off, and if the situation weren’t serious, I’d laugh at the comical look on her face.
My gaze slides to Brit, and I find her watching me with open curiosity. Her eyes are a bit glassy, and just when I think she’s going to turn around and walk out of the room, she shocks the hell out of me.
“How is Harley?” Brit asks, her voice surprisingly devoid of any sarcasm. I can’t help but take the olive branch.
“She’s good.”
Brit nods and bites down on her bottom lip before averting her eyes. I know why when she asks the question. “And Max … how’s Max?”
I have absolutely no idea how she knows about Max, and honestly it doesn’t matter. This can’t be easy for her. As my mind replays the abrupt way I walked out on her in New York, I suddenly feel the need to make things right … well, as right as I can possibly make them.
“What time does your shift end?” I ask Brit. Her brows furrow, probably confused as to why I asked, and when she doesn’t answer right away, I look over at Avery. She still looks like she’s watching a damn tennis match, the way her head is swiveling between Brit and me. She’s just going to have to be confused because I’ve got too much shit on my damn plate to explain this clusterfuck right now.
Brit clears her throat and I shift my attention in time to see her glance at her watch. Her eyes, full of anxiety, lift to meet mine. “Ten minutes. Why?”
“Do you want to go get a cup of coffee?” I ask, even though getting coffee with Brit is the last thing I want to do. Especially since it’ll mean getting home later than I had hoped. Not to mention the fact that I’ll have to tell Harley where I’m going … or maybe I shouldn’t. She’ll only jump to conclusions, and that’s the last thing she needs. Her blood pressure is already elevated as it is.
Pushing those thoughts to the side, I focus on Brit. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. I can’t help but think that she needs this just as much as I do.
“Sure,” she says. “Is Java’s still down on Main Street?”
“Hold up!” Avery inserts herself between Brit and me. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Her eyes are pleading with me to rethink this, but really, there’s nothing to rethink. Brittany was my girlfriend for years, and then my fiancé after that. It doesn’t matter that I never felt for her what I feel for Harley; she didn’t deserve the way I walked out on her. And if I’m being honest, this has felt like unfinished business since the minute I left her—business that I need to take care of, not only for me but for Harley and Max.
I gently grip Avery’s shoulders and move her out of my way. Brit is watching Avery with amusement, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and I can tell that these two women would be great friends under different circumstances.
“I’ll meet you there?” I ask Brit.
She nods, and that’s enough for me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I step into the hallway and send Harley a quick text letting her know I’ll be home in about an hour. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath, fighting back the wave of nausea that’s working its way through me. I hate not telling Harley the whole truth, but it’s probably something we need to talk about in person … in a nice, calm environment.
Speaking of nice and calm, I hope to God that this meeting with Brit goes well.
Flinging the door open, I step into Java. The rich smell of coffee wafts through the air, and for one brief second I’m transported back to my days in New York. Brit and I spent countless hours studying in Brew Ha, a coffee shop down the road from our condo. We frequented the place so often that we’d walk in, sit down, and within minutes our drinks would be delivered. Java’s has the same vibe as Brew Ha, and when I spot Brit tucked in a corner booth, I have to swallow past the rush of emotions.
Brit and I were together for years, and despite the fact that I knew I had feelings for Harley—strong feelings—I stayed with Brit. That wasn’t fair to her, and the look on her face when I told her I couldn’t be with her is forever ingrained in my head. Walking away from Harley when she told me she loved me all those years ago is by far my biggest regret, but right up there with it is the way I treated Brit.
Rubbing my sweaty palms along the front of my pants, I decide to get this over with. Bypassing the counter, I head straight for the booth. I don’t intend for this to be a long meeting. Get in. Get out. That’s my motto at the moment.