Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
If Walker was a man that pounced on an excuse to leave a situation, I think he would have. Instead, he nodded casually and stood slowly, stepping back to allow Sloane past him.
“Sloane—” I gave her a pleading look.
She smiled apologetically. “We’ll catch up later. I’ll call you.”
I nodded, trying to not be sullen about her departure.
“Walk.” Brodan said his friend’s name as a goodbye.
“Brodan.” Walker smacked him so hard on the shoulder, Brodan flinched. I decided I really liked Walker Ironside. “Monroe.”
“Bye.” I gave him a weary wave.
Then they were gone.
And everyone in the café was trying not to look at us … and failing.
“You can go too,” I said under my breath to Brodan.
But Flora approached with a tray of food. “I take it this is for you two now?”
“We can’t waste Flora’s efforts,” Brodan answered with faux innocence.
I smiled sweetly. “I hope you choke on a sandwich.”
Flora choked on a snort as she laid the plates out. She winked at me. “Enjoy.”
Staring at Brodan, I huffed, “If you’re staying to eat, you can move.”
He smirked. “Is my proximity too much of a temptation?”
“To stick this butter knife in your thigh? Aye. Far too tempting.”
“I walked into that one,” he murmured congenially, but he got up to take Sloane’s empty chair.
I could breathe a little now that I wasn’t enveloped in his heat and aftershave. “What are you really doing here, Brodan?”
His expression turned serious. “I wanted to spend time with you, and I knew that you wouldn’t agree to it.”
“So, you forced it?”
“I … I’m … fuck.” He sank back in his chair, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.” He pushed up from the table. “I’ll leave.”
“Sit down.” I sighed in exasperation. I shouldn’t have capitulated, but he looked so much like that lost wee boy I still held in my affections.
He sat down so quickly it was almost comical. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Brodan Adair.”
“I love when you second name me,” he teased. “It does things to me.”
“Don’t flirt with me either.” I pointed my fork at him in warning.
Brodan shook his head. “No, can’t promise that.”
I rolled my eyes and dug into a sandwich so I didn’t have to deal with him for a few seconds. Then, still feeling as if we had an audience, it reminded me to ask, “No calls from Hollywood, then? No film sets awaiting your arrival?”
He swallowed his bite of pastry. “I think I’m done with acting.”
My breath caught, but I didn’t let him see this news affected me. “Think?”
He shrugged. “I used to see this therapist.”
“You mentioned that.” It still shocked me, but I admired him for it. “I’m glad.”
“Aye, well, we talked about how acting was my escape. I wanted to get lost in other people’s lives because it was easier to deal with than my own. Especially after my dad died.”
I’d heard from my mum about Stuart Adair’s death. At the time, I grieved him, and I grieved for his children, for Brodan. I’d wanted to go to Brodan. To stand at his side for the funeral, but I’d believed then that I wouldn’t be welcome. Now I knew differently.
“I’m so sorry about your dad, Brodan. I’m sorry I didn’t come to his funeral. I regret it.”
Brodan reached across the table and curled his hand over mine. “I understand. And thank you.” He released me and sat back in his chair. “I was so angry when he died because I felt like I hadn’t gotten a chance to really know him. That I’d pushed him away as much as he’d pushed us away. We had a complicated relationship, and it left me with lots of regrets. So I buried myself in acting. I realize how true that is now. How empty I was in between takes. I don’t want that to be my life, Roe. To turn into my father and be so crippled by fear and grief that he held the people who loved him at arm’s length. I want to come home. I want to see my nieces and nephews grow up. Maybe,” he paused for a second, “maybe have kids of my own.”
My gut twisted at that. “Oh.”
“So, no, I’m not going back to acting. But I still like the world of storytelling, you know. I’ve, uh, I’ve been working on a script.”
Surprise suffused me. “Really?”
Brodan nodded, seeming almost shy. “I don’t know if it’s any good. I actually … I wondered if you might read it.”
“Me?” I pressed a hand to my chest. Surely, he was mistaken. “Brodan, what do I know about scriptwriting?”
“You read more books than anyone I know and I come from a family of readers. But I don’t want their opinion as much as I want yours. You know a good story. That’s all I want to know. I want your honest opinion, if you think it’s a good story. I trust you.”