piece and popping it in my mouth. I wasn't hungry but it was probably a good idea to get something in my stomach besides alcohol.
Brandon pushed the plate closer to me, silently encouraging me to eat more. I took another bite to placate him then sat back and sighed again. "I really didn't mean to cause so much trouble."
"Morgan, nothing that happened is your fault."
"But it is. If I hadn't run away—"
"You did us both a favor, love."
"Yeah, sure I did."
"You did. You made me realize what I really wanted—"
"You already knew what you wanted."
"True. But you made me realize that it was worth going after, in spite of Mother. And from what you've told me, you managed to meet someone as well. I'd say that makes us both winners."
"The situation's a little different for me. No happy-ever-after."
"Because you're insisting on running away again?"
I shrugged but didn't defend myself. How could I, when that was exactly what I was doing?
"I still think you should stay."
"I can't. I've already stayed too long."
"So you keep saying but you don't really know that for fact, do you?"
"I do." I looked up, my eyes widening at the words. Our gazes met and we both started laughing.
"About a month late with that, aren't you, love?"
"Yes, I suppose so." I sighed and rested my arms on the table. "Do you think we would have been happy if we'd gone through with it?"
Brandon leaned back in his chair, deep in thought for a few moments. His gaze finally met mine with a self-awareness that I hadn't seen there before.
"I think our marriage would have been an amicable one. Friendly, even. But happy? No, Morgan, I don't think so. You'd be saddled with a man who worked too long just so he could forget he was in love with someone else. I think, at the end, you would have resented me for that."
"I couldn't resent you, Brandon."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"What about now? Are you happy now?"
His blue eyes shone from the power of his smile. "I am, and I owe it all to you."
"I told you I didn't do anything—"
"But you did and this is one argument I'll win. Cut your losses, love, and concede the argument."
"Fine, I concede. I don't believe you but—"
"I think you need to reacquaint yourself with the definition of 'concede'."
"Maybe."
Brandon reached for his own drink, something clear with lots of crushed mint in it, then settled back in his seat and watched me for a few long moments. His gaze was intense enough that I shifted and glanced around under the pretense of taking in our surroundings.
We were at a little cafe on Bourbon Street, tucked behind what was supposed to be a small park. The park was mostly a patio, complete with bronze statues of music legends and even a small fountain, all behind a heavy black iron gate. Brandon had chosen the location after picking me up earlier, insisting on treating me to a late lunch even though I'd told him I wasn't hungry. I would have probably been able to eat more than I had if Dylan's apartment wasn't right around the corner. I couldn't shake the feeling that he might show up at any minute, even though I knew that had more to do with guilt than reality.
"So tell me more about this guy you've been shacking up with."
I turned back to Brandon and lifted both eyebrows. "Shacking up? Not exactly words I'd expect to hear from you."
"Living with, then."
"We weren't living together. I was just staying with him."
"From the moment you left me at the altar."
"A slight exaggeration. And there's nothing to tell."
"You can't blame me for being curious. You said he was a hockey player?"
"Yes, for the Bourdons."
"Gerard's team?"
"Who?"
"Gerard Landry, the owner."
"Oh. You mean Addy's father. Yeah, that's the one."
"You know Addy?"
"A little." Enough to call her a friend. At least, she would be if I wasn't leaving.
"What are you hiding from, love?"
"Me? Hiding? I'm not hiding—"
"Not literally, no. But I don't think you're being completely honest with yourself, either."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Did I sound defensive? Probably. Judging from Brandon's smile, he didn't take it personally.
"It means I see something in your eyes when you think I'm not looking. You care for him—more than I think you want to admit."
I forced a smile I didn't feel. "If that's what you want to think, I can't stop you. Doesn't make it true."
"Ah, denial. That's even more convincing."
"I'm not in denial—"
"Tell me why you're leaving."
The sudden change in