things differently?"
I hesitated. "Well, wouldn't you?"
"I guess you'll never know."
Obviously, Brody still wasn't getting it. "But just listen," I said. "I thought you were lying, telling me that you didn't know anything about my connection to the place when you really did."
"So?" he said again.
"So don't you think that's kind of a big deal? Lying, I mean?"
"Except I didn't."
Well, there was that. Still, I felt compelled to try again. "But can't you see why I was upset? The way it looked, I thought you'd purchased the house for some sort of revenge – and then, lied to me about it, even after we'd gotten so close. That's all."
That's all?
Wasn't that enough?
And yet Brody remained silent.
Desperate to keep the conversation going, I switched gears. "So…do you think that's why Mason bought it? Because he wanted to get back at me for torching your truck?"
Brody's jaw clenched. "He didn't buy it. I did. So if you want to be pissed at somebody, you're looking at him."
Yes. I was looking at him. He looked as amazing as ever – maybe a little leaner than he'd been a few weeks ago, but amazing none the less.
If only he weren't eyeing me with such coldness, I might've melted into his arms right then and there. And maybe, if he weren't so angry, he might've gathered me close like he used to.
And maybe together, we'd look at making a fresh start.
With that in mind, I tried again. "Yeah, but you're still not getting it. This isn't about the house. It's about us. And honesty. And integrity. And all that other stuff."
The amazing sex.
The fun we'd had, even while working.
The look he used to give me whenever we crossed paths, before all of the misunderstandings had torn us apart.
I was still holding up the cookies, and the longer this went on without Brody actually taking them, the more stupid I felt about such a small, useless gesture.
As if cookies would make any difference at all.
Recalling my other peace offering, I adjusted the plate of cookies in my grip so I was holding it with only my left hand. With my right hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out Brody's old cell phone.
I held it up between us. "Oh, and I brought you this, too."
He spared the phone half a glance. "Keep it."
I did a double-take. "I can't. I mean, it's not mine. It's yours. It's the one you lost." I nudged it closer. "See?"
"So toss it," he said.
I shook my head. "But it's still got service."
Brody still made no move to take it. "It's just a phone."
No. It wasn't just a phone. Not to me. After I'd snagged it from Waverly, I'd finally figured out why she'd called me from that phone in the first place. Not only was I the very first contact in Brody's list of favorites, I was listed under some initials that I didn't recognize.
And now, I couldn’t stop myself from saying to Brody, "And speaking of your phone, why was I listed under 'L.O.L.'?" I tried for another smile. "Was it because we liked to joke with each other or something?"
He stiffened. "You went through my phone?"
If I weren't trying so hard to be civil, I might've pointed out that he'd just offered me this very same phone, which made his reaction now just a little bit ridiculous.
Still, I saw what he meant, so all I said was, "No. I didn't. Waverly did. And she was the one who pointed it out."
It was true. Just before I'd slammed my bedroom door in Waverly's face, she'd demanded to know what exactly I'd done to deserve the top spot in Brody's contact list. And then, she'd made some snide comment about Brody listing me as "L.O.L." because I must've been one big joke to him all along.
This posed a distressing question. Was I?
But then I remembered something. With renewed hope, I looked to Brody and said, "When Mason and I were talking, he also mentioned how you stuck up for me."
Looking almost bored now, Brody said, "How so?"
"You know. How you told him that if he fired me, you'd walk off the show." I searched Brody's face for any sign of warmth. "Is that true?"
Sounding colder than ever, he replied, "It is."
Something in my shoulders eased. "Thanks. I mean, that was really nice– "
"It wasn't."
"Sure it was."
"Forget it," he said. "I wasn't doing it for you."
"Oh." Again, I hesitated. "So, if you weren't doing it for me, who were you doing it