No. That can’t be it.
I run a hand through my shaggy mane and blow out a frustrated breath, upset with the entire situation. Brendan called and I caved, seeing an olive branch after months of silence instead of thinking it through. Now he’s so late I’m starting to think he won’t show at all. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stood me up because something better came along. But I thought this time…
Damn you, Brendan.
Austen’s touch gives me a jolt, and she squeezes my hand compassionately. “Who is he? The guy you’re obsessing over.”
I eye her warily. “Does your family descend from a coven of mind-reading witches or something?” At her glare, I raise my hands in surrender. “Just checking, Sherlock.”
“Honey, you’re easier to read than you know. You’ve been distracted for weeks now. Even a little sad, when you thought no one was paying attention. Then a few days ago things changed. You got all antsy and talkative, right around the time you invited me out. You even promised to go out to a place of my choosing next if I agreed. That should have been my first clue—you, voluntarily going out twice in the same month.”
“I’ll grovel if you need me to.”
She squeezes my hand again. “Not necessary, as long as you promise you’re not trying to hook me up with a guy you have the hots for. Friends come first, and I would never be okay with that kind of drama.”
“No, it’s not him.” I shake my head in swift denial. “It’s a mutual friend who wanted our help to meet you.”
And now I’ve just admitted to setting her up and having the hots for Brendan. At least a life of crime was never on my bucket list.
Austen scoffs. “A man worth my time wouldn’t use his friends as a shield or play high school games to get me. He’d come right up and introduce himself.”
“Hey there, beautiful.” The nearest bachelor hyena has decided to make his move after eavesdropping on our conversation.
Am I wearing a sign that says “Just a friend, mostly harmless and totally gay”?
It’s hard not to take that personally, even if it is true. It’s also true that I’m in better shape than he is and could probably dropkick him out the door if Austen asked me to. Still, it rankles.
Someone once told me I give off a harmless vibe, whatever that means.
That vibe might disappear if you wore something besides sweatpants and brushed your hair once in a while, Millie. Just saying.
The voice in my head occasionally channels my mother. It’s awkward.
Before I can say a word, however, Austen responds to hyena number one without even looking in his direction. “No, thank you. Run along now, the adults are talking.”
I’m not sure whether to feel sorry for the guy beating a fast retreat or applaud. I’m friends with a witch.
Since she sees right through me anyway, coming clean may be my only option.
“We had a falling-out a little while ago and took a step back.” A Grand-Canyon-sized step that felt insurmountable at the time. “He reached out recently, asking me to help our friend get to know you without coming off like a player.”
Austen frowns at that. “Is he a player?”
A few weeks ago, my answer would have been different. But now? “I wouldn’t have agreed to it unless he’d personally convinced me that he was seriously interested. I’d never put you through this for any other reason.”
At least that isn’t a lie.
She nods thoughtfully. “So the one who reached out after stepping back—he’s important to you?”
“Brendan?” For some reason the question surprises me.
Is Brendan Kinkaid important to me?
You could say that.
“We met when Mom was at the hospital for some tests about six years ago,” I tell her, skimming over the details. “The two of them—mom and Brendan—just clicked. In one afternoon, he basically charmed her into unofficially adopting him. After that, whenever he was in town we were inseparable. Family dinners, weekly phone calls…he even sent flowers on Mother’s Day. When she died a few years later, he was the one who helped get me through it.”
He did a lot more than help. Anyone who’s known me for more than three years knows how profoundly my mother’s death affected me back then. She’s the reason I decided to do what I do for a living—she’d always loved massages and I wanted to learn how to ease at least some of her pain. She’s also the reason I saved up to buy the house. But complications from lupus got the best of her within days of my signing the closing paperwork. After that, everything I’d done or was planning to do felt pointless.
I shut down.
It was Brendan who moved me in when all I wanted was to curl into a ball and grieve. He invited the neighbors over to meet me. He’s also the one who got me started on my never-ending home projects, giving me something to do so I wouldn’t lose my mind.