My eyes widen. One mention of the word marriage four years ago, and Brandon was across the room and out the door before whoever was speaking could even finish their sentence. He could hardly stomach the idea of committing to one woman, let alone the concept ofmarriage.
Just ask Cora.
But hedidsay that if we ever did make love again, his ring would be on my finger . . .
Francine tilts her head. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Brandon with another woman in a very long time. An odd thing for him.”
I frown. I saw him with another woman at McDonald’s just last week.
“And it sounds like he’s made his intentions with you quite clear.” She grins triumphantly and squares her shoulders. “I think Brandon is courting you.”
My nose wrinkles. The wordcourtingcouldn’t sound more . . . archaic. It’s certainly not a term that would be in Brandon’s vocabulary, that’s for sure.
Yeah, talking to Francine was a bad idea.
“So, in conclusion, no. You wouldn’t be stupid to give Brandon a second chance. Not even close.”
I nod, but if anything, she’s convinced me of the opposite.
I startle when someone’s hands grab my shoulders. Glancing up, I find Jamie towering over me. “So, you and B-dawg, huh?”
“What?”
He grins, pulling the seat out next to me before dropping into it. “Don’t ‘what’ me, sis. I caught you guys snuggling on Grandma’s couch last night.”
My ears burn. “It doesn’t matter,” I say, rising from my seat. I go to the sink and turn the faucet on to wash my tea cup. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Good.”
My head whips in Jamie’s direction. “Good?”
“Well, no offense, sis, but Brandon, he’s . . .” He shrugs. “You know.”
“No. He’s what?”
He sighs. “I love him to pieces, but once a womanizer, always a womanizer.”
Francine grimaces. “That’s hardly fair. What about the redeeming work of Christ?”
Jamie shrugs, unrepentant. “You guys don’t know him like I do.”
My stomach twists. I trust Jamie’s judgment on this particular issue. Mostly because I’ve always been blind when it comes to the subject of Brandon.
“Besides,” he continues, spinning a salt shaker around on the table. “Look what happened to Cora. He had a ring and everything, but he backed out at the last second. He can’t be trusted—not when it comes to serious, committed relationships.”
My eyes water. He had a ring? He was going toproposeto Cora? He told me that he never loved her, that their relationship had always been casual. He said that was why he couldn’t force himself to marry her like all of his friends and family members insisted he should. He got so much flack for that.
Rightly so.
But I was there for him through that, when he was at his lowest. When it seemed like the whole world was disappointed in him for his decision.
It turns out he waslyingto me.
I don’t know why the realization steals my breath and makes the room tilt on its axis, as if I’ve never found out that he’s lied to me before. Still, I allowed myself to hope . . . to believe—
Rebecka waddles into the room, her pregnant stomach bulging beneath her red tunic. She’s ready to burst any day now, and I hate the jealousy that eats at my heart, chipping away at it like a termite. It’s wrong. I should be over the moon for her. AndI am.But there’s also a part of me that wonders why I never got to bethatpregnant. Why I never got to meet my baby face-to-face and rock him or her in my arms.
I was so ready to become the kind of mother I needed growing up.
