Natalie’s POV
That smell of garlic-laden roast chicken filled the air of the dimly lit dining room and was reassuring. I sat just across the table; Brandon was deep into food. All his attention was on the plate as he put labor into cutting the steak. Weak candlelight fell luxuriously on his face, and shadows leaped at his face, making him sadder than usual.
I spun my fork around absentmindedly. I wasn’t all that hungry for the really good dinner we were having. It had turned into one of those very long days with all the ordinary stress of operating a restaurant, and now, sitting here with Brandon, I can’t help but reflect upon how everything had shifted so dramatically in what has to count as hardly any time at all.
We had been getting into some kind of rhythm, but so much was still unsaid between us-especially with everything that happened with Arlys.
Brandon’s cell phone. He looked at the screen to see who it was calling from before answering. “Anthony,” he said into his phone, leaning back in his chair. It was pretty obvious how tense the place was, just from how he responded.
He listened to his friend on the other line, and I watched his face, knowing by the way Brandon was clenching his jaw and how tightly he held that phone-squeezing it as if it was part of his problem-that things that Anthony was saying were not good.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally logged off. He took a deep breath and began massaging the back of his neck, almost as if he really were trying to scrub out the stress.
“What’s wrong?” Setting my fork down, I turned my attention to him.
He gave her a look of worry and frustration, a look that never seemed to leave Anthony’s face. “Something is happening at the London branch, and he feels I need to fly out there to sort it out now.”
Oh yes, my heart sank at the fact that he would have to depart. With Arlys’ old threats like a sword of Damocles hanging over my head, everything that happened, and Brandon so far away, I just couldn’t find it good. Really felt like I shouldn’t be selfish so he’d stop staying away from his responsibilities for so long.
“You’ve got to go,” I bade on, trying to make myself sound firm and steady in the face of the bubbling anxiety building inside of me. “If it’s something important, you need to be there.”
Brandon had practically shaken his head before I managed to silence him. “I’m not going to leave you here all by yourself, Natalie. Not with Arlys still running loose, threatening to come back. Way too much of a risk for that.”
I reached across the table, laying one of my hands over one of his. “Brandon, I’ll be alright. You have guards there to watch over me, and I’m promising you, I’m not going to do anything stupid. But because that’s the case, you can’t ignore your work. You have to go.”
His eyes flashed down to our now interlocked hands on my lap, his thumb lightly stroking across the top of my knuckles. “I don’t like this,” he growled low and tight, his voice brackish with apprehension. “I don’t want to leave you unprotected.”
I squeezed his hand in mine to pacify him a bit. ‘You are not going to leave me alone. Guards are following me everywhere, and I shall be careful. You just have to trust that we’re going to be okay.’ “.
His gaze washed into mine, searching for reassurance in my words. Again, he let out a very torn sigh. “I will go, but only if you agree to something.”
“Like what?” I could finally say I was ready to agree with any damn fitting condition he was actually talking about.
“You’re not going to leave the guard’s side at all. I need to know you are safe, Natalie. I can’t get anything done, looking over my shoulder every five seconds for you.”
Threading my head and neck up and down, I knew that would be the only way he would let me out. ‘Gosh, I swear. I won’t move without them.'”
Brandon barely relaxed the pressure but held himself tense for a moment longer, before freezing himself into the released stricture of my arm, walking a circle around the table, and tugging me against him. Pressing my head against his chest, I listened to the even thudding of his heart.
“I hate this,” he muttered. “I hate that I have to choose between my work or your safety.”
“I know,” I whispered back. “But we will manage. You’re going to go to London, take care of what you have to do, and then you’ll come back to me. Nothing’s going to happen.”
He held me closer, his grip showing he wished more than anything that this was real. “Just be careful, ok? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”
“Me too,” I said again. “And you be careful too. Make sure to get back all in one piece.”
Brandon chuckled softly; his amusement was mingled with nerves. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
I tipped back slightly, enough that I could regard his face and give him a little smile. “I’ll be waiting.”
He kissed my forehead, and I relented with reluctance. “I guess I would have to start packing.”
“I would be tidying over here.” I pointed to the living room.
He nodded, then squeezed my hand once more before trotting up the stairs. He really must go to London. With immense swirling emotions of pride and anxiety reverberating in my chest, I watched him just go-that nice idea but one that felt really terrible in actuality.
Well, now let me clear this table, while my mind goes back to what we have just discussed. That he had cared too much had been written all over his eyes: the realization of it was comforting, terrifying; that we hadn’t started this marriage out of love but somewhere along, sometimes, feelings had begun building-at least on his part.
Inside, I knew I would be doomed to buttonholing right along with something else, a realization that bordered on horrifying: that is one of the very last things I would have ever expected.
For the first minute or so, I did stand, glancing back through the locked door. My heart was somewhat going up and down, feeling alarmed and hopeful together. I have to trust that everything is going to be alright.
I took a deep breath and, paying attention to nothing, headed back into the kitchen to clean up. My frail chest ached with all of the anxiety of it; my fretting really turned out to be for nothing. At this point, there really wasn’t anything I could do now but hang around and pray that Brandon would come back to me in one piece, just like he said he did.