The car ride was suffocating. Brandon gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He kept checking his phone, glancing at the rearview mirror, his leg bouncing nervously.
“If you don’t want to go,” I said quietly, looking out the window, “we can just go back.”
He exhaled sharply. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m worried about Denise. If something happens to her, Kyle would kill me. I promised him I’d look out for her.”
“Is that the only reason?” I asked, turning to look at his profile.
He glanced at me, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Of course. What else would it be?”
I just smiled. A small, sad smile. “Okay.”
The restaurant was beautiful. Candlelight, soft violin music, the scent of expensive wine. It was the place where he had proposed to me. But Brandon wasn't there. His body was in the chair opposite me, but his mind was chasing a girl in a red dress.
He checked his phone every thirty seconds. He barely touched his appetizer. When I tried to talk about the weather, about a book I read, he gave one-word answers. “Mmhmm. Yeah. Nice.”