"Hey!" she said. "That's mine."
"Nice try," I said, snatching the phone off the couch. I gripped it tight and jostled my way past her, heading toward my bedroom.
She hollered out after me, "I was gonna give it back!"
Without breaking stride, I called over my shoulder, "Sure you were!"
"And the battery was dead!" she called. "I had to charge it myself."
"Oh, boo hoo!" I called back.
Just as I reached my bedroom door, Waverly yelled, "And I found it in the coat closet. How was I supposed to know whose it was?"
She knew. Of this, I was certain – just as I was certain that it would take a lot more than the return of Brody's cell phone to make things right between us.
But hey, it was a start, right?
Chapter 69
Arden
Brody eyed the plate of oatmeal cookies that I held out between us. With a frown, he asked, "What are those?"
"Cookies." I summoned up a smile. "Oatmeal cookies. My grandmother's. I mean, they're not her cookies exactly, because I made them on my own. But they're her recipe. And I remember you saying a few weeks ago that you'd never had the homemade kind, so…" I let my words trail off as I nudged the plate closer. "Try one. I made them just last night."
It was early Monday morning, barely past six-thirty. I'd been standing out on the front porch of my grandparent's place since sunrise, waiting for Brody to show up.
As expected, he'd been the very first person to arrive, which was a huge relief, considering that the last thing I wanted now was an audience.
With a dismissive shrug, he said, "I already ate."
"Oh." I hesitated. "Well, if you don't want one now, maybe you could put them in your truck for later."
Without making any move to take them, he said, "What's this about?"
"Alright. The truth is, I owe you an apology." I lifted the cookies higher. "And hey, how about a peace offering, too?"
His eyes were dark, and his lips were compressed into a thin, angry line. He looked like he'd rather grind my cookies into dust than trust me not to poison him with baked goods. In a tight voice, he said, "An apology for what?"
I glanced toward the front door. "Do you want to talk inside?"
"No."
"Then maybe in your truck?" I forced another smile. "I mean, the last thing we want is for Roy to show up and film us, right?"
With no trace of warmth, Brody said, "Roy's just doing his job. I suggest you do the same." He glanced down at his watch. "And you don't start for ninety minutes."
Ouch.
It wasn't just a hint. It was a dismissal.
It reminded me of how things used to be, way back in the beginning, when both of us hated each other. It seemed like a long time ago. And yet, here we were, back to the beginning. Except I didn't hate him.
Not anymore.
At his cold dismissal, my smile faltered. "Right. At eight o'clock. I know. But this isn't about work. And don't you want to know what prompted this?"
"I already know," he said.
"You do?"
"Yeah. I heard about your talk with Mason."
I should've known. "So he told you?" I said. "When?"
"Saturday."
It was the same day Mason had confessed to me what he'd done. This meant that Brody had learned two days ago about the misunderstanding and hadn't made any effort to get in touch.
But then again, why would he? This was my fault, not his.
Cautiously, I asked, "So, what exactly did he tell you?"
"Does it matter?"
At his tone, I almost flinched. "Well, yeah. It does, actually." I stared up into Brody's eyes, willing him to understand. "Did he tell you everything he did with the house? I mean, how he practically forced Jason to sell?"
"Yeah, so?"
Now I was frowning. "So, you seriously don't think there's anything wrong with that?"
At this, Brody's expression only darkened. "If you think I've changed my mind about selling, forget it."
"But that's not what this is about," I protested. "Did Mason also tell you that I thought it was you who did all those things?"
"Yeah. He told me."
"So you see why I was angry, right?"
"Why?" Brody scoffed. "Because you thought I'd do things differently?"
I hesitated. "Well, wouldn't you?"
"I guess you'll never know."
Obviously, Brody still wasn't getting it. "But just listen," I said. "I thought you were lying, telling me that you didn't know anything about my connection to the place when you really did."
"So?" he said again.
"So don't you think that's kind of a big deal? Lying, I mean?"
"Except I didn't."
Well, there was that. Still, I felt compelled to try again. "But can't you see why I was upset? The way it looked, I thought you'd purchased the house for some sort of revenge – and then, lied to me about it, even after we'd gotten so close. That's all."
That's all?
Wasn't that enough?
And yet Brody remained silent.
Desperate to keep the conversation going, I switched gears. "So…do you think that's why Mason bought it? Because he wanted to get back at me for torching your truck?"
Brody's jaw clenched. "He didn't buy it. I did. So if you want to be pissed at somebody, you're looking at him."
Yes. I was looking at him. He looked as amazing as ever – maybe a little leaner than he'd been a few weeks ago, but amazing none the less.
If only he weren't eyeing me with such coldness, I might've melted into his arms right then and there. And maybe, if he weren't so angry, he might've gathered me close like he used to.
And maybe together, we'd look at making a fresh start.
With that in mind, I tried again. "Yeah, but you're still not getting it. This isn't about the house. It's about us. And honesty. And integrity. And all that other stuff."
The amazing sex.
The fun we'd had, even while working.
The look he used to give me whenever we crossed paths, before all of the misunderstandings had torn us apart.
I was still holding up the
