Holding on to Someday Page 10

  When lunchtime rolls around, I decide I am going to eat outside today. It’s a nice, warm day and after being cooped up in an office all morning thinking about Brady, I need a refresher to clear my head. There is a small park across the street from the café. I order my lunch to go and find an empty bench to sit down and eat.

  As I sit there, eating my lunch, I take in my surroundings. I see moms pushing little kids on the swing set, empty strollers lining the sidewalks, and kids chasing one another through the park. I hear little giggles fill the space, and I smile thinking of what it would feel like to be a mom; to know that someone else is completely dependent on you for everything. I glance across the way and see a mom feeding her baby, cradling the precious child in her arms. I think about her raising this little life, the child trusting her completely, and the unconditional love she must feel for her baby.

  Oh, to be able to have that. I hope these mommas don’t take a single minute for granted. Not everyone gets what they wish for in life. Watching the interactions taking place around me, and thinking about Brady, reminds me of how badly I want that life. I don’t know why he brings out these feelings in me. Maybe it's because I feel different when I'm around him and that ignites a desire in me to want more from my life; to be a wife…a mother.

  I need to push these thoughts out of my mind, so I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I need to be realistic. At this point in my life, I know the chances of that happening grow slimmer by the day. I gather my stuff and walk back to the office while feeling myself slip into that ‘poor-pitiful-me’ mood.

  As I labor through the rest of the day, I struggle to get anything accomplished. All I can think about is the boring life that I lead. Alone.

  ♦♦♦

  The Corner Café has become part of my morning routine for the past few days. I don't know whether these visits are a product of the massive amount of caffeine my body craves or it's the hopes of seeing Brady Reese. However, after the incident yesterday, I'm not sure if I should go back. Deciding that coffee is more important, I make my way inside, immediately scanning the room for the familiar brown hair and brown eyes. No such luck.

  I sigh and order my drink. Once it's ready, I turn to leave, drink in one hand, phone in the other. I'm not paying attention as I walk toward the door. Suddenly an object stops me, and two hands reach out to grab my arms. “Whoa there!" Startled, I look up; realizing I almost doused some poor soul with hot coffee. My cheeks immediately blush as I realize that "poor soul" is a very handsome man.

  “Brady…” I whisper. “Hi.”

  He grins, but it’s not the big smile he's greeted me with before. I sense uncertainty like I did when we left this same spot yesterday.

  “I nearly had an opportunity to go home before I’ve even been to work today,” he says, and the corner of his mouth turns up.

  “I’m so sorry! Did I spill anything on you?” I ask, afraid I’ve ruined his nice suit.

  “No… I think I caught you before you plowed through me.”

  I’m so embarrassed. I know I’m still blushing. I mutter another, “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Clara. I’m just messing with you.”

  He nods toward my cup of coffee and asks, “Getting your morning dose of caffeine too?”

  “Yeah, I think I’m developing an addiction to high doses of this stuff to make it through the day.”

  He laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It was more like an obligatory response.

  Insert awkward pause.

  Sensing the awkwardness of the situation, I decide it’s time to leave. “Well, I should get to work. See ya.” As I move to walk past him, Brady grabs my elbow.

  “Clara,” he says, turning me to face him. The sadness in his eyes has been replaced with a look of apprehension. “Have lunch with me?” he asks.

  Taken aback by the abruptness of his question, I’m a bit speechless. I expected him just to let me walk away, but he didn’t. I see the look in his eyes… it’s almost… longing? I take a step closer as his grip tightens on my elbow, pulling me to him.

  A small, “Yes,” escapes my lips. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes, I would love to have lunch with you.” I didn’t even have to think about the answer. My heart knew I would say yes before he even asked me.

  “Today at noon, our usual spot.” It’s not a question but more of a statement, and I nod my head yes. At that moment, something clicks between the both of us, and I feel the spark of his touch again.

  “Wonderful,” he says with a wink. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  19

  Lunch Dates and Real Dates

  Angie!” I squeal out as I barrel through the door of my office. I nearly collide with her desk as I stumble over my own two feet. She jumps up worried, trying to gather her bearings as I throw myself in the chair in front of her desk.

  “What?… Whaaaat, Clara!?” she yelps at me.

  I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, and the huge grin plastered on my face is a little painful. I have so many thoughts running through my head, but I'm not sure how to get them out coherently and without squealing like a little girl.

  “Ohmagah…” is all I can seem to say.

  “Clara, I’m about to slap you right in the face if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Angie demands.

  I can tell she is both worried and aggravated. I can’t say I blame her, between the crazy currently sitting in front of her, and my wide array of moods over the past week.

  I finally yell, “He asked me to lunch!” and some squealing noise follows. Who in the world have I become? Did I turn into a teenager overnight? I think to myself.

  “What? Who? Are you okay, Clara?” I’m sure Angie is confused by this point. Snap out of it will ya, I tell myself.

  “Angie… oh my gosh! I went to the café to get coffee this morning and you know I've been all sad the past couple days thinking about how much I’m missing out on in life and I was trying to get him out of my mind and it’s been really hard and then I got coffee and about spilled it all over him and it was weird for a few minutes but then he just… just….he grabbed my elbow and then he just asked me.”

  Angie looks like a deer in headlights. Somebody call Guinness. I think I just spewed the longest run-on sentence in the history of spoken language.

  “Okaaaaayyyy. I didn’t understand any of that except a guy asked you something,” she says.

  “Lunch. He asked me to lunch. Today.”

  My response takes her by surprise, and she leans across her desk, saying, “Wait. Is this Brady?”

  “Yes!” I tell her with all smiles.

  “So where was he for a whole week, while you moped around the office?”

  I take offense almost immediately. “I have NOT been moping!”

  She’s looking at me with that yeah right smirk on her face and says, “Mmm hmmm…. whatever. So where has he been?”

  “He was away on business last week, and I’m not sure what was going on this week.”

  Angie narrows her eyes at me. I can tell she still has questions. I tell her about my conversation with Brady, where he works, and why he was gone. I also tell her every minuscule detail from our 20-minute rendezvous yesterday, including the odd way he left the coffee shop. Once she is satisfied with my report, she lets me get to my office.

  I’m chipper all morning, and I get a TON of stuff done, which is surprising. Anticipating my lunch date… err… just lunch… with Brady Reese has me floating on cloud 9, and I find myself watching the clock again.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  At 11:45, I start to feel nervous, and queasy. My stomach is churning, and I wonder if I'll even be able to eat. Think. Positive. Thoughts. I tell myself.

  Walking down the sidewalk, I spot Brady sitting on a bench outside the café. His legs are stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, and he’s reading something… a magazine perhaps. I glance at my watch to see if I’m
late. Nope. It’s 11:52. I’m early, so that means he’s very early. I’d say we both might be a little eager for this lunch date to happen. I smile as he glances down at his watch. A few seconds later, he turns and spots me. Immediately that adorable smile appears, and he stands to greet me.

  “Hey,” he says walking toward me.

  “Hey,” I respond, feeling myself blush. I keep failing at words when I’m around him. I hope I can hold a whole conversation with him over the next hour. I can’t help it.... I’m curious if he really did get here early or if I spaced on the meeting time. “Am I late?” I ask.

  “Nah….” he says. “I just got here a little early. It’s nice out, so I took my time walking and decided to wait on the bench. You ready to go in?”

  I nod, and he opens the door for me and guides me inside doing that hand-on-the-back thing again like he did the other day. I feel a slight tingle where he touches me.

  We walk to the counter and place our orders. I’m not sure if this is a pay-my-own-way-lunch-date or something else, so I assume that I’m paying and start to dig in my purse to grab my wallet. Brady reaches to stop me. “Clara…” he shakes his head no. “I asked you to lunch, remember?”

  “You already paid for my coffee this morning. I can get my lunch,” I tell him. He turns his head to the side and leans in toward me with a mischievous grin, and says, “Absolutely not. This is my treat too.”

  I stop messing in my bag. Wow… maybe this is a date after all.

  When our order is ready, Brady grabs the tray and asks, “Shall we sit at your usual spot?” I smile knowing that he knows where my usual spot is. He places the tray on the table, and before I can grab my seat, he reaches around me to pull the chair out for me. I hop up onto the tall chair, and he pushes me closer to the table. I know I’m grinning all cheesy-like, so when he walks around the table to take his seat, I try to wipe the stupid look off my face. He places my food in front of me and his in front of him.

  A few minutes pass where neither of us talks. I’m not sure what to say, and I guess he’s not sure either. Regardless, every time I look at him he’s looking at me. That electric spark is there. I feel it in his gaze as well as his touch. He finally breaks the silence and asks, “How was your morning at work?”

  “It was surprisingly productive,” I tell him. “How about you?”

  “Conference call. Boring.” He laughs, and I know exactly what he means. “Do you have any plans to be out of town anytime soon?”

  “No, at least not for the next two weeks,” I tell him. “But, that can always change at a moment’s notice,” I shrug.

  “Oh, why so?” he asks.

  “Sometimes businesses call when they are in crisis, and I’m usually the one who goes in those situations. I tend to handle the spur-of-the-moment clients better than some of the other consultants,” I tell him rolling my eyes. “I guess because I’ve been there the longest.”

  Brady gives me a questioning look and says, “You're not old enough to be senior staff in your office.”

  “Ah….flattery. It gets you everywhere,” I say with a smile.

  He laughs, “But seriously, how long have you worked there?”

  “I moved here a little over ten years ago to open the Charlotte office. The main company is in Virginia… that’s where I’m from,” I add.

  “Virginia. I would never have guessed it,” he says.

  “I really like North Carolina. I lived here while I was in college. So, when an opportunity came up to move back, I took it. Even though Virginia is considered the south too, it’s just not the same. Different atmosphere, different people.”

  “Where’d you go to college?” he asks.

  “South Springs University. It’s about an hour west of here.” I’m sure he’s never heard of SSU because it’s a small, private school, so I’m surprised when he says, “Oh yeah… I know that school. I had a friend from high school who went there. Graduated in ’96.” He rattles off a name I don't recognize.

  “Huh… what a small world. Where did you go to school?” I ask in return.

  “UNC… Chapel Hill,” he says shyly, hiding his face behind his hand.

  Curious as to why he lowered his head as his response, I ask, “Why do you say it like that?”

  “Fear. Depending on whether you're a Tar Heel, Duke, or State fan, I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I was going to get from you. College sports fans are...dedicated,” he responds.

  Laughing, I tell him, “Well, no worries here because I’m neutral. I didn't grow up here, remember? Plus, I’m not really into sports, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Whew… that’s reassuring,” he says, pretending to wipe his brow.

  The conversation continues through lunch we talk about college roommates, favorite foods, vacation spots, and plenty of other random things. He’s also very flirty, inserting smiles and winks into the conversation, and every once in a while, his hand brushes mine as I rest it on the table. We end up sitting there for well over an hour without realizing it. A text from Angie, asking when I plan to return to the office, snaps us out of our little world we've placed ourselves in.

  “Oh… it’s almost 2 o’clock!” I exclaim. “I’ve got to get back to the office. That was my assistant.”

  Brady starts gathering our plates. “Here… let me get this,” he says. “I could stay here talking to you all day long, but I probably need to get back to my job too,” he says, giving me a wink.

  Flutter goes my heart.

  Grudgingly, I gather my purse and stand to leave. Brady places his hand on my lower back again as we walk out of the café. I have decided I like it when he does that.

  Once outside, we turn to face each other. Those electric sparks dance between us again, and they speak volumes to me. I can tell from the intensity in his eyes that he feels it too. “I want to spend more time with you, Clara,” he tells me. There is a long pause as he waits for my reaction. I can only smile in relief. I want the same thing, too.

  Bringing the playful mood back, my smile turns into a crooked grin, and I ask him, “So how do we make that happen, Brady?”

  “I want to take you out on a date." He says matter-of-factly. "A real date. Not just coffee or lunch… a date where there are no time restraints.”

  “I’m okay with that,” I respond. “So, when do you think this quote-unquote ‘real date’ should take place?”

  “As soon as humanly possible,” he says, grinning broadly and showing me those adorable dimples.

  I want to say tonight, but I don't want to appear too presumptuous or too eager, so my response is, “You name the day and time, and I’ll be there.”

  “Is Saturday too soon?” he asks with a sheepish grin.

  I smile back at him, excited that we seem to be on the same page. “I think Saturday would be great.”

  “If it’s okay, I would like to come pick you up. Like, at your house. I have someplace I want to take you.”

  Immediately I blush. I don’t know this guy, so I should not say yes, but for some reason, I ignore that thought and respond, “Yes. I would love that.”

  Brady rubs his hands together in front of his face like he's scheming something. “This is great!” he says. “This is so great.” His schoolboy reaction makes me throw my head back and laugh.

  “I probably need to know your number since you have agreed to go out with me, and I also need to know where you live. Please.”

  “Give me your phone,” I tell him, and he places it in my hand. I put my address and phone number into his contacts and text myself from his phone. “Now you have my number, and I have yours. We should be good,” I say, handing the phone back to him. When our hands touch, he holds his there a moment longer than necessary, and our eyes connect. My phone goes off, and it’s a reminder text.

  Angie: HELLOOOOOO??????

  I know I need to get back to the office because she never interrupts me during lunch unless it’s something pressing, especially knowing that I’m out with
Brady. He sees me look down at my phone.

  “I know you need to get back, so I’ll call you later tonight and we can work out details.” The smile in his eyes shows his excitement.

  “Sounds great! I’ll look forward to it, but right now I have to get back,” I tell him as I turn to walk back to the office. Walking away, I glance over my shoulder to see he’s still standing in the same spot. He waves and smiles, and I feel something I haven’t felt in a long, long time. It’s like I’m that same college girl all over again as I enjoy the return of those long-forgotten butterflies.

  Angie meets me as soon as I walk into the office. “I’m so sorry to text you during your lunch, but the main office has called for you three times. You should get back to them ASAP.” She hands me a slip of paper with the messages.

  “So how’d lunch go?” she asks in a whispered hush.

  “It was wonderful. He asked me out on a date,” I whisper back.

  She grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. “Shut. Up! For real? That was quick.”

  “I know. It does seem quick, but as I said before, there is something about him… I don’t know… he’s different. Genuine. Having lunch with him today confirmed that even more,” I tell her.

  “Girl… you’ve got it bad. I can see it in your eyes,” she links her arm through mine as we walk toward my office. “If this is meant to be, it’s going to work itself out. I kinda get this vibe from you… just a different vibe.” Angie knows me better than anyone, and if she can already sense this, I know what I’m feeling is not out in left field.

  “I’ve got to make this call. We’ll catch up after work.” I proceed to my office and dial the number from the message. These impromptu, calls usually mean corporate office needs me right away. Geez. I sure hope this phone call doesn't affect my plans for tomorrow night.

  I try to focus as a man's voice comes on the line. “Hello, Mr. Johnston, this is Clara Willet in the Charlotte office.”