Turns out, this was true.
Looking obscenely delighted, she'd greeted me not with a "good morning," but with the news that Brody had left for the airport long before sunrise.
And now, she was saying, "We are restoring other houses, you know."
Oh, I knew alright. There was that long-neglected estate in California wine country along with that three-bedroom bungalow in Nashville, plus a farm house in Iowa.
Even though I'd never seen the houses personally, I'd seen plenty of pictures and video footage, too. Over the past couple of months, I'd helped Brody with some of the advance planning – brainstorming bathroom and kitchen layouts, along with countless other details.
I'd loved every minute of it, even when we disagreed, which wasn't as often as you'd think. But now, his sudden departure made me wonder what exactly I'd been missing.
Yes, I had realized that Brody would eventually need to travel to the new sites. But I'd always figured that I'd have some advance warning when that actually happened.
And yes, there was a part of me that had hoped to be included, not with the actual show, but as Brody's, well, I didn't know what.
Girlfriend?
Lover?
Friend?
Colleague?
I was still trying to figure it out when Waverly announced, "And I'm leaving for California tonight."
I stiffened. "What?"
"Well, I am the show's producer," she said.
It was funny. These days, I never thought of her as the producer, mostly because she didn't do much producing. Instead, she spent most of her time talking on her cell phone, shopping on-line, or complaining that no one ever listened to her ideas.
I stood in stunned disbelief as she went on to imply that Brody might be gone for a while.
With growing concern, I asked, "Do you know when he'll be back?"
With another smirk, she replied, "Sure."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Aren't you going to tell me?"
She paused, as if thinking. "Why should I?" she finally said. "You never tell me anything."
By now, I felt like screaming. "I have no idea what you mean."
"Sure you do," she said. "You're fucking him, aren't you?"
I tensed. Crap.
My face grew uncomfortably warm, even as I coldly informed her, "That's none of your business."
"I'll take that as a yes," she said, looking decidedly displeased. "I knew I shouldn’t have told you that."
"Told me what?"
"To hate-fuck him."
Good grief. That was months ago. But apparently, she hadn't forgotten.
I replied, "Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't 'hate fuck' him."
This was technically true.
Even though I'd started out hating Brody, our encounters had not been hate-filled, not even in the beginning.
Her lips pursed. "Oh, please. I saw him come out of your bedroom last night."
At this, I almost groaned out loud. Damn it.
Now I didn't know what to say.
Into my silence, Waverly said, "That's why he suddenly left town, wasn't it?" With a brittle laugh, she said, "What'd you do? Get all clingy? Guys really hate that, you know."
By now, my head was swimming so hard, I could hardly keep up with my own thoughts. I didn't think I was clingy. It was true that Brody and I had been spending a lot of time together. But it hadn't felt like I'd been chasing him, much less crowding him.
And besides, I reminded myself, Brody had been sneaking into my bedroom, not the other way around.
Still, a little voice in my head whispered that he'd left awful quickly when I'd broached the subject of his family.
It was a bad sign, for sure. After all, true intimacy didn't come from sex so much as sharing secrets and what-not.
Maybe he did think I was clingy.
Throughout the day, I texted him several times – and even called him, too – but I never did get ahold of him, or receive any response whatsoever.
And, as if this weren't bad enough, I had a surprise visitor late that very same night.
Probably I should've been happy to see him. But I wasn't, not after I heard what he'd come to tell me.
Chapter 49
Arden
Waverly – along with all of her luggage – had left for the airport nearly four hours ago, and I was sitting alone in the crew house living room.
Apparently, I'd be staying here on my own. But for how long, I had no idea.
After Waverly's departure, I'd poked my head into Brody's bedroom in search of some clue on how long he might be gone, or if he planned to return at all.
What I saw gave me at least some hope. The way it looked, some of his stuff was still there, which suggested that he'd return eventually.
But until I actually talked to him, I had too many questions and no answers whatsoever.
As the hours passed, one question loomed larger than the rest. Were we broken up?
But maybe that didn't even apply. Maybe we'd never truly been together. After all, our relationship had been a total secret, except to Cami, who now wanted to kill him, thanks to me crying on her virtual shoulder just an hour ago.
As for my calls to Brody, they remained unanswered. With every passing minute, I grew more and more angry. Already in my head, I'd told him off at least a dozen times.
While I stewed on the couch, I was working on yet another way to tell him exactly what I thought of his recent behavior when a knock sounded at the front door.
Startled by the sudden noise, I gave the door a perplexed look. It was nearly ten o'clock at night, late for visitors, especially when I wasn't expecting anyone.
Across the street, the film and construction crews had stopped working hours ago, leaving me utterly alone for the first time in months.
Reluctantly, I stood and made my way toward the door.
Before answering it, I peered out through the front window blinds, trying to get some sense of who might be visiting at such an odd hour.
I saw no vehicle in the driveway – here or across the street. But there was someone standing
