Then there was Rosie. It was completely unexpected. She was wearing a white T-shirt the same as me the night I stayed over. I was unprepared for how deeply it hurt to see her there. Had they slept together? Was that why there was something odd about Todd's expression? He knew. Why would he let me go back there like that? I ran like a deer in headlights, without thought or reason. My brain sent a signal to my feet to flee and off I went. Brando chased me, but there was no way I would have let him catch me. I didn't know what would happen next. I didn't think it was possible for my chest to ache any worse than it already had for the past year. I guess we learned something new every day.
****
Later that night I went in for my shift at Catch. It had gotten slow after the dinner rush, so I slipped into the back office to research immigration law on the computer. It was almost impossible to get a straight answer. Most of the results were about people being deported from the U.S. back to Mexico. I must have been the only idiot who had managed to do the opposite. Most of my time was spent reading articles on child immigration and deportation. The stories were so heartbreaking that I found myself wiping away tears with the collar of my T-shirt.
"Are you okay?" Jonna, the restaurant owner's daughter, asked from the doorway.
"Yeah, erm." I swiped a hand over my eyes, probably smearing across my face what was left of my mascara. "Just one of those, erm, cute puppy videos." Jonna cocked her head to the side, her curly ash blond ponytail swishing along with her.
"I never took you for a softy, Carina." She smirked, then narrowed her ice blue eyes. "Don't tell me you're pregnant, too?" She chuckled, then patted her tiny belly bump. "These hormones are a killer. I swear, as soon as Mama and Daddy return from their cruise, I'm quitting this job."
"Jonna, you quit almost every time you work, then you still show up for your next shift," I said, closing down windows on the computer then clearing my search history.
"Well, this place would probably fall apart without me." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Oh, I almost forgot the reason I came to find you. Brando is here. He asked for you."
"No," I replied. Jonna cocked her head to the side, about to speak. I answered the question before she could ask it. "You know why." She was the only person I'd told.
"Yes, I get it. Some random chick coming out of Brando's bathroom—"
"Wearing his shirt," I cut in.
"Wearing his shirt," Jonna repeated. "You also said he looked just as surprised as you, right?"
"Yes, but—"
"And you didn't even give him a chance to explain. Even if he'd given you a bullshit story, at least you would have had a story. Right now, you've got nothing." She had a point. "Did I ever tell you about the time I found the glove box in Mack's car full of panties?" We scrunched up our faces at the same time.
"Ew." I shivered at the image in my head.
"Right? One thing I learned from that was not to immediately assume the worst. If I had, I would have missed out on being with the love of my life. Have a little faith in Brando. He and his brother are a lot alike. Things aren't always as they appear with them." She looked down, her face going soft with emotion, then she turned her attention back to me. "Besides, it's your turn to take a table." Then she twirled away.
Could I go out there? Was I ready to face him? It had only been eleven hours since I'd last seen him. Not that I was counting.
I went to the tiny employee bathroom and checked my reflection. My red hair was pulled into a messy bun and could use a wash. My nose was red from crying and the bags under my eyes were large enough to use as luggage for my next trip. Just as I suspected, I looked like shit. I couldn't remember the last time I was able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. Nico still hadn't been able to reach that Tennessee lawyer. I didn't know when I would see Bash next since Jamie's passport connection seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth, and I couldn't ignore the overwhelming feeling that my luck had run out. On top of it all, the man I tried to let in had almost made me regret that decision.
I fixed myself as best as I could, took a deep breath, and pushed through the kitchen double doors. Fox was popping the top on two beers and serving them to patrons at the bar counter. Jonna was wiping down an empty table and Brando was sitting in his usual booth in the far corner staring at me.
Just get it over with.
I straightened my spine and counted my steps as I moved forward. One, two, three...
"Coffee?" My tone was flat as I stared right into his face, though I'd felt a little out of breath as my heart pounded out of control. Brando didn't speak. He only stared back. His dark brown eyes were almost black. His jaw ticked and his nostrils flared. The longer we stayed that way, the more irritated I became. "Well, are you going to order something or are you just going to stare?"
"Where were you?" Brando’s soft tone was contradicted by his angry glare. I didn't feel like answering, so I shrugged. His face went hard as stone. "Were you in Mexico?"
My head snapped up, taken aback.
"Who told you that?" I hissed, but he ignored my question, replacing it with another one of his own.
"Is that scar on your thigh from a gunshot?"
I hadn't expected any of that. To be ambushed with facts. There was only one way he could have gotten that information.
"Madelyn." I spun around and walked off. "That bitch."
"So it's true?" He got up and followed me.
"That's none of your business," I called over my shoulder as I stormed through the dining room. Brando grabbed my wrist before I could push the kitchen doors open.