I smirk at that little piece of flattery. “How would you know? You haven’t been around in years.”
She laughs. “Touché.”
Yesterday afternoon, while Molly was meeting with clients, I finally texted Sara and told her we could meet. The longer I thought about it, the more I realized I truly have already moved on, and if she needs to give me her explanation to move on with her life, I want to give her that. She hurt me, but for two years before that, she was everything. It’s a gift to the Sara from those years that I agreed to this. It’s a gift to myself that I chose breakfast and to get it over with as soon as possible.
The server leads us to our table and gives us menus. I already know my order, so I use the opportunity to study the woman I once believed I’d grow old with.
Sara Jeffers hasn’t changed. It’s been ten years since she tore my life apart, but she’s the same bright-eyed, beautiful woman. She still wears her blond hair long and swept over her shoulder in a braid, still toys with the end when she’s nervous. We’re even meeting at our favorite breakfast place—just like we did every Friday morning while she was in law school.
Everything is the same. Except me. I don’t feel the same at all. Thank God. When she left, I had to live with wreckage in my chest. I could hardly breathe through it, and I only survived by throwing myself even more into my work. Nine years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to have this meeting in public. Hell, for a few months after she left, I couldn’t even say her name without feeling like I was being ripped in two.
Sara puts down her menu and beams at me. “Tell me everything I’ve missed.”
I arch a brow. “You’ve been gone nearly a decade. You’ve missed . . . ” Everything. “A lot of things have changed.” Except you, apparently. But I’m not sure I want to go there.
Something flashes over her face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was regret. She unfolds her napkin and places it in her lap before toying with her silverware. “I wanted to call so many times, but I knew you wouldn’t want to talk to me.” When I don’t answer, she meets my gaze again. “I’m so sorry, Brayden. You have no idea how many things I regret.”
I swallow hard. She seems so sincere, but it’s too late. “At least you had the choice to call, the choice to reach out. You disappeared and took that choice from me.”
The server appears with coffee and saves me from having to immediately say more. She fills our mugs and takes our orders before walking away. A bowl of oatmeal and a side of egg whites for Sara, and the California omelet for me. “Would either of you care for the mimosa bar?” the server asks. “Or a bellini?”
“Not for me, thank you,” I say, then look to Sara, who I’ve never known to skip an opportunity for champagne.
“Coffee is fine,” she says with a smile. When the server walks away, she tugs on a lock of hair and says, “I’m twelve months sober.”
I blink. Sober. “I didn’t know . . .” I swallow back the rest of that ridiculous sentence and shake my head. “Congratulations.”
“No one knew. Not back then, at least. Even when I checked myself in for treatment, only a couple of close friends knew.” She drops her gaze to her silverware. “I didn’t even tell my family.”
I didn’t know. But hell, in retrospect, I should have. “I’m sorry.”
“What on earth do you think you need to apologize for?” she asks softly.
“Brayden!”
My attention is pulled away to the blonde strolling toward us. Molly. I blink at her.
“Hey, bossman!” She grins at me and teeters slightly, pink-cheeked and grinning. Tipsy Molly. “You can’t seem to escape me no matter where you go, can you?”
“What are you doing here?” I scan the room and get my answer when I spot Shay and Teagan in a booth against the wall. Carter, Jake, and Levi all knew I’d be here this morning. I told them at the gym. I’d bet good money they shared that information with our sister.
Sara looks back and forth between me and Molly, who goes still when she realizes who I’m with.
I clear my throat. “Molly, this is my friend Sara. Sara, this is Molly, my—”
“Roommate,” Molly blurts, jabbing her hand in Sara’s direction. “Just roommate, nothing more. Well, I guess more, because he’s also my boss. My boss and roommate, but we’re totally platonic. No worries there. Sorry about the other night.”
Totally platonic. Is she lying because she doesn’t want anyone to know about us or because she thinks that’s what I want? I grimace and watch as Sara takes Molly’s hand and gives it a tentative shake. “Nice to meet you, Molly.”