He drew in a deep breath. “We just grew apart.”
“That’s . . . that’s all?” I blinked. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Brock was and had been unreachable and untouchable for the last six years. I had long since accepted that he was going to marry the beautiful, shiny Kristen. They would have kids, a whole cargo van full of kids. They’d practically grow up at the Academy. My parents would dote on them, because Brock was like a son to them, so their kids would be like grandbabies, and I would be okay with it. I had been okay with it, because there wasn’t a choice to not be.
I sat back, utterly shocked. “You were together for—”
“Almost six years. I know,” he said, fingers tapping on the arm of the chair. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
And that’s all he said.
Realizing that he obviously didn’t want to talk about it, I let it drop. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He studied me a moment. “That’s nothing to be sorry about, Jillian.”
My breath caught a little, and his large office suddenly felt entirely too small, so I started to rise. “Thank you for hearing me out about the potential for expansion. I’ll call them and see when they have some time available.”
Brock waited until I reached the door and said, “Don’t forget to tell them to bring their husbands and to plan to grab dinner afterward.”
Slowly, I faced him.
He smiled at me as he picked up the remote. “One big, happy date, Jillian.”
* * *
“I’m just a girl, standing in front of an oven, asking it to hurry up and bake my pizza.”
Sighing, I all but planted my forehead on the oven door. There were still twenty-some minutes left. That meant forever. Turning away from the oven, I watched Rhage chow down, his tail sliding across the floor like he was angry-eating. I glanced at my phone as I nibbled on my lower lip. The desire to call Abby and talk to her about Brock was burning through me.
Brock wasn’t engaged.
Was this common knowledge back home?
And even if my mom thought knowing Brock was now single would somehow send me down a path to heartbreak number five hundred, how could she or my father not say anything?
My heart started jumping all over the place as I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the counter. Brock was a flirt, teasing and playful. He’d always been. He was the kind of guy you shouldn’t take seriously when he showered you with attention. I had done so foolishly before and I wouldn’t make that same mistake. Not when it was so easy to blur the lines of friendship with him, but him being engaged had helped keep my head on my shoulders and my heart firmly secured far, far out of his hands.
Not that I was trying to give my heart to him.
So really, him not being engaged meant absolutely nothing.
Nothing at all.
Brock was actually single again.
That barbed-wire wall was gone, as was that mile-deep line in the sand. I wanted to pretend they were still there, but that required a whole lot of lying to myself. Too much effort right there. Brock was available. He could still be dating Kristen. He’d gone back to Philly over the weekend and she was here on Monday. Though he hadn’t seemed exactly thrilled to see her, but I hadn’t poked around with questions, so—
“Oh my God,” I muttered, unfolding my arms and rubbing my hands down my face. Thank the Lord I’d washed the makeup off first or I’d look like that dude with the melted face at the end of one of the Indiana Jones movies.
I could call Abby, but it was close to dinnertime, and talking about Brock to her, to anyone, would make them think—
My phone rang from where it sat on the counter, startling me. I walked over to it, seeing an unfamiliar Pennsylvania number. I almost didn’t answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Brock.”
My eyes widened as my heart did a dumb, stupid jump in my chest. Thinking about him and having him call out of the blue made me want to look around to see if there were hidden cameras in my apartment.
“Heeey.” I drew the word out.
There was a deep chuckle on the other end of the phone. “I realized something. Since we have the dinner tomorrow night, it would make sense that I pick you up in the morning.”
“What?” I so did not see how that made sense.
“There’s no point for both of us to drive to work and then to the restaurant. Parking in town is terrible. So I can pick you up.”
My thoughts raced to catch up with what he was saying. “But you’d have to drive past the Academy, come clear out here to pick me up.”
“It’s not clear out there. It doesn’t take that long and I like driving,” he replied. “I’ll be there at eight-thirty. Be ready.”
“But—”
“See you in the morning, Jillian,”
And then he hung up and I was left staring at my phone like an idiot. I could call him back, but once Brock had his mind made up about something, there was no talking him out of it.
“Why?” I said out loud.
Rhage meowed in response.
I looked over at the striped cat. He was sitting in front of his empty bowl, staring up at me like he actually thought he was going to get more food. “Not happening,” I told the little devil.
Glancing at the time left on the pizza, I then saved Brock’s number in my phone. I stood in the center of the small kitchen for several moments, unsure of what I was supposed to do now. Call him back and tell him no? And would that be me making too big of a deal out of him giving me a ride? Should I just leave before he got here and pretend I forgot? That would probably make me an ass. Or should I just go with the flow and stop stressing over it, because stressing led to reading between the lines?