Maybe Never by Nia Forrester Page B

instant.
    “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go sit down.”
    In the living room, when he sat on the sofa, she chose the armchair opposite instead of sitting next to him. Brendan sat with his hands clasped between his knees, struggling for words to begin.
    “I want to tell you about Janice,” he said.
    Across from him, Tracy swallowed.
    “We used to date,” he said. “A really long time ago. And I ran into her again recently when I was downtown.”
    Tracy was listening, and her expression was neutral but Brendan could see her throat working as she swallowed.
    “The day I first ran into her was the morning after you told me . . . about the baby. And I went with her back to her apartment,” he continued. “And while we were there, we started talking about old times, she took me back to show me some pictures she’d kept of back when we were dating.
    “We were sitting on her bed, and there was a moment. But nothing happened,” he finished hastily. “I wound up talking to her though, telling her things about us that I had no business sharing. I talked about you and about us, and  . . .”
    At that Tracy stood and pursed her lips, and Brendan could see her agitation increase. “What did you tell her about me?”
    “That our relationship is complicated, that sometimes I’m not . . . But I didn’t sleep with her, Tracy. I barely even touched her . . .”
    “I know you didn’t sleep with her,” Tracy said almost impatiently.
    Brendan paused, surprised. “You know I . . .”
    “That’s not the kind of thing you would do,” Tracy said, but her voice was bitter. “You’re not the liar, the cheat, the asshole that women fear. You’re a different kind altogether.”
    He waited, puzzled by her tone, confused by her words.
    “You’re Mr. Perfection. The one who slowly, and probably even unintentionally, chips away at a woman’s self-esteem by convincing her that if anything is wrong with the relationship, it’s her fault.”
    Brendan blinked. “Wait a second . . .”
    “You wouldn’t sleep with Janice. Not because you didn’t want to . . .”
    “I didn’t want to, as a matter of fact,” Brendan said, his voice rising.
    “So why was she with you today? After that near-miss in her apartment, why were you still seeing her?”
    At that, he was caught. He didn’t know why. Nostalgia, boredom . . .
    “You were still seeing her because you’re shopping around. Even now, you’re shopping around,” Tracy said. And for the first time, she looked hurt.
    “What’re you . . ?”
    “I’m getting tired of waiting, Brendan . . .”
    “What’re you talking ab . . ?”
    “. . . for you to decide that it’s okay for you to be in love with me. That I’m good enough . . .”
    “Hold up, that’s your fucking issue, not mine.”
    “. . . or kind enough, or sweet enough or friendly enough to be the woman you fell in love with. I might be  . . . cute, but I don’t live up to some ideal in your head, do I? Maybe if I was more like Riley . . .”
    “Oh here we go . . .”
    “Yes! Here we go! I’m not even sure you like me sometimes. Since we’re talking God’s honest truths, that’s the God’s honest truth. You like how I look. You like fucking me. But me? As a person? Maybe not so much.”
    “Because I insist you act like a decent human being when you come into contact with other human beings?”
    “It’s more than that. I feel like I’ve been interviewing for this role of Brendan Cole’s Woman for two years. And every time I do or say something that’s not perfectly sweet, not in keeping with your image as the guy everybody just loves, I feel like I’m one day further away from being given the job on a permanent basis.”
    “That’s your internal bullshit, Tracy. Being interviewed to be my woman? What the fuck have you been these last two years?”
    “That’s what I want to know . . .”
    “So what? You got pregnant to force the issue?”
    “ Yes! Maybe I did! ” Tracy screamed at