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BRAXTON
Maddox: What are you doing today? Would I be considered needy if I asked to see you?
The text messageis the last thing I see before slipping into a cab and rambling off the address to my favourite brunch place in the city to the driver. With a giddy smile, I set my purse on my lap and start to type a reply. Before sending it off, I snap a quick photo of myself wearing one of his jerseys and attach it.
Me: Day 1 of my punishment. And I’m working. But on an extended lunch break right now as I have brunch plans.
Me: And you’re a bit needy . . . but it’s ok. I don’t mind *wink emoji*
Maybe I’m teasing him a little, but what’s the harm? I need the sliver of joy it brings when those said plans include a tense conversation with my family over a plate of strawberries and cream crepes.
The offer—or more like summons—for a brunch meeting came last night, not long after Maddox tucked me back in my car and sent me home, my lips swollen and already missing the feel of his. I fell quick and hard from my high the instant the text came through.
It was Mom who made contact, but I’m not naïve enough to believe it wasn’t ordered by my father. Choosing my favourite spot to eat reeks of one of his plans. A place with nowhere to park on a Wednesday during peak brunch time. If I have to take a cab, I can’t run off as easily as if I had driven myself.
I’m almost offended he thinks I would fall for it. That he could make me feel comfortable and naïve to his plans and then blindside me.
I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. Honestly, it took longer than I thought it would for him to find out about what I’ve done.
My phone vibrates, and one look at the message has butterflies flapping in my stomach.
Maddox: Good jersey choice. And who are you having brunch with?
Me: I’ve been craving crepes for so long. I can almost taste them already.
Maddox: Who?
Me: My stomach is grumbling.
Maddox: Fine. Have it your way.
I nip at the inside of my cheek.
Me: That doesn’t sound comforting. What does that mean?
Three minutes go by without a reply, but as soon as I see the word Read appear with no sign of him typing . . .
Me: Don’t you ghost me right now Maddox Jamieson Hutton.
Read.
Me: This is my least favourite game ever.
Maddox: Have fun at brunch, baby girl.
I blink at the message before tossing my head back and laughing. The cab driver looks at me oddly in the rear-view mirror, but I just keep laughing. As much as I want to be annoyed with Maddox, I can’t. Instead, he’s unknowingly helped me relax.
A handful of minutes later, the driver drops me off outside of Tina’s Brunch and Tea House, and I fiddle with my hair, stalling going inside. I peer inside the big windows, searching for my parents in the midst of all the full, pretty pink tables.
They’re in my favourite booth. The one right beside the long, pastel-clothed pastry table and mimosa fountain. My parents might be sitting with their backs to the window, but I would recognize them anywhere. Front or back.
I grind my teeth. Is it worth it to call in to work for the rest of the day so I can get drunk off champagne and orange juice?
“Are you planning on standing outside or going in to have those crepes you’re so horny for?”
I look for the owner of the voice, feeling more terrified than excited to see him. My eyes are bulging when they land on Maddox. He’s closer than I expected and a total freaking vision in thigh-hugging dark jeans and a thin, deep green T-shirt the exact shade of his eyes in the early afternoon sun. The backward cap on his head has me swallowing a groan. I’m a sucker for the backward hat.
“What are you doing here?” I rush out, anxiously fiddling with the hem of the jersey that lands just above my hips after I tied the front to avoid looking like I’m wearing a potato sack.
