Page 40 of Legally Mine

I bit my lip again, this time hard enough to hurt. "I think you know the answer to that."

Brandon watched me for a moment. He glanced down at my wrist, where I was wearing the bracelet he had given me before my graduation. I hadn't been able to take it off.

"I'm glad you kept that, at least," he said quietly, as he reached out to touch the metal.

I followed his fingers. His hand was so much darker than mine, a ruddy bronze against my fair, freckled skin.

"It's...special," I said quietly.

"So were we. At least I thought so."

We were quiet until the waiter returned with my wine and prepared to take our orders.

"Red?" Brandon asked.

There was that nickname again. Its casual use made my stomach flip in a way that was all too familiar.

"I haven't looked at the menu," I said lamely. "Can you order for me?"

Maybe it was just that I actually was going to let him do something for me, but Brandon's stern features softened. I could feel my own resolve weakening too.

"She'll have the scallops," he said with a short smile. "And the beet salad to start. I'll have the steak, rare."

The waiter nodded and left us alone once more. The restaurant was a busy din, but I couldn't hear anything. I took another long sip of wine. I had to admit, it was much, much better than what I'd originally ordered.

"Red?" Brandon interrupted my distraction. "Skylar."

I set my glass down. "Yeah?"

"I miss you too."

The simple admission was enough to undo me. Almost immediately tears welled up, so I drank again, remembering Bubbe's advice that you can't cry when you're drinking something. Considering how this night was already going, I was going to have to switch to water soon.

"I still don't really understand," Brandon continued. "Was it just because of the divorce? I mean, I get it...it's a lot to take, and I should have told you about Miranda from the start. But after that night at your place, I thought things were going to be okay."

I shook my head, toying with my napkin. "It was...ugh...what I saw in your papers. The trust you set up. For...him."

Brandon blinked, his eyebrows furrowing adorably in confusion. "For him...oh." He looked up with sudden clarity. "Oh! For Messina, you mean?"

I nodded.

He ran a hand back through his hair, disturbing its neat coif. "Skylar, I––"

"This is what I mean about the railroading. You promised me you would stay out of it," I said bitterly, all of the anger I had felt bubbling up again. "You promised. And then you went behind my back and did it anyway. Like I said, it wasn't ever going to make them go away. They know they've found a gold mine now."

Brandon looked on sadly. "I was just trying to help. I'd rather be the target than your family. Keeping it from you wasn't my goal."

"Yeah, but now they're even more of a target!" I cried, viciously swiping at the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. "They're targets because you're a target! And because I have to pay them back––"

"You don't have to pay them back, Skylar!" Brandon interrupted. "No matter what happens between you and me, you don't ever have to worry about that!"

"Well, I still have to pay you," I countered.

"Why? You know I would never accept it."

"If I didn't," I insisted, "I wouldn't have taken this job at Kiefer Knightly. I would be able to stay in New York and take care of my family."

"Is that what you want?"