All or Nothing: A Love by Design Novel

Emmy came over a few evenings later to check in on me after my disastrous night with Braydon. We’d just finished giant spinach salads and garlic rolls from the deli downstairs and were sitting cross-legged on my living room floor, casually chatting about life, work, and any other topic that wasn’t my cringe-worthy love life. Thank God.

Never had I felt so out of control, so powerless around a man. Sometimes it infuriated me the way Braydon made me feel. Other times it was so completely blissful that it made my entire life’s outlook brighter. Today was not one of those days. I used to be so fearless giving Emmy advice when it came to Ben. I’d tell her not to take any shit. To not give into his sexual advances—to make him sweat a little. It was so easy from the sidelines. I wasn’t emotionally involved.

Things with Braydon were so much more complicated. I’d inadvertently given him not only my body but also my heart. I knew deep down I was falling for him. I’d fallen for his quick wit and sense of humor, for his sexy confidence, for the way he made me feel about myself. Aside from his commitment issues, he was sweet, a true gentleman. It was dangerous territory, especially because I was damn certain this was all just physical for him. He’d reminded me time and again.

“Sooo,” Emmy began, a hint of concern on her face. “Are we going to talk about it?”

I shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? I caved last weekend—brought him home with me.” It was a low point; that was for certain. It wouldn’t be happening again.

“And what happened? I know you two aren’t back together, so . . . tell me what happened that night. You better spill it, little miss. You know there’s no holding back from me.”

I swallowed my pride. “We started to . . . you know . . .” I wiggled my eyebrows—the universal signal for getting it on. “And then I realized that nothing had changed, I was still nothing more to him than his fuck buddy, and I lost it. I kicked him out of my apartment with a raging erection.” And then cried myself to sleep.

“Wow. You don’t fuck around. I like it, lady.”

I frowned at her. This wasn’t some game—not for me, anyway. I wasn’t trying to whip Braydon into shape. I just couldn’t put myself through the heartache again, so I ended it before it went too far.

“Well, don’t you worry, babe. I know he’s crazy about you. He’s going to come around.”

She sounded so confident, but I was pretty sure there was no chance of that. I’d given him every opportunity in the world.

“Let me ask you something . . .”

I explained about the insight I’d developed while stalking him online—and how I rarely saw him pictured with a girl—except for the one blond-haired girl, Katrina, though I didn’t tell Emmy I knew her. “Did he ever have a serious girlfriend?” I asked.

“I think so. A few years ago. Ben said something about how he’d gotten royally messed up when it ended and he’s really leery about new relationships and letting people in because of a crazy girl he dated a few years ago. That’s all I know.”

“Do you know her name?”

Emmy shook her head. “Let me see the pictures you found.”

I agreed, grabbing my laptop from the counter and logging in. At the first click of my mouse, I knew it was a terrible idea. His face appeared and my heart throbbed painfully in my chest. I missed him. Terribly. That chiseled jawline, his full mouth that used to erupt into a crooked smile with one simple quip. His insanely blue eyes fringed in dark lashes, the rumpled mess of dark hair. Seeing him on my screen wasn’t enough. It didn’t even compare to the real thing. I wanted to press my face into his neck and inhale, wrap my arms around his firm body, feel his gentle caress on my skin, hear the sweet words he would murmur.

Emmy studied each photo along with me, but found nothing even remotely familiar about the girl featured with him.

“So how do you feel?” she asked, nodding once toward my computer screen.

I sighed and thought it over. “I miss him. Too fucking much. And it makes me want to do strange things . . .” I rubbed my temples.

“Like?”

“I want to cook for him, do his laundry, fold his boxers into neat little squares. Something is majorly wrong with me.”

Her expression softened. “Oh honey. You love him.”

“Nooo. That’s not it. I’ve read studies about this. It’s just pheromones. Like some strange chemical reaction that my body has to his. Some people can have this unexplained attraction. Braydon and I obviously have it. That’s all this is. It doesn’t mean we’d even be capable of having a lasting, loving relationship.” I remained objective in my assessment, grasping on to the science of it.

“Really?” She cocked an arched eyebrow. “And wanting to do a man’s laundry doesn’t tip you off that maybe your feelings go a bit deeper than that?”

No, my feelings couldn’t extend beyond the bedroom. I couldn’t love him, that wasn’t part of the arrangement. My heart just needed to get the memo.

• • •

The following day, in a moment of weakness, I texted Katrina again.

Me: Hey! Are you up for meeting for coffee today?

Several minutes later, she replied.

Katrina: I’m busy today, but how about a drink tonight?

Me: Sounds great.

Once we’d set the time and place, I instantly felt calmed. Maybe tonight I’d get some answers about Braydon’s past.

When I arrived, I spotted Katrina right away. Her shiny blond hair was curled in tight ringlets that fell around her shoulders. She was dressed in skinny jeans with a cute top and matching scarf and large dangling earrings. She looked nice, even if she was trying a little too hard. My own hair was in a ponytail and I’d opted for comfort—jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

She hopped down off her barstool as I approached and gave me a hug like she was holding on for dear life. Maybe our shared experiences had bonded us more than I knew. Something told me I was about to find out.

We ordered our cocktails—she a glass of wine and me a Shirley Temple because I had to work in the morning and was tired of feeling like crap when I woke up. Once our beverages arrived, we sipped them in silence for several moments while I figured out what to say.

“So . . . how are you doing?” she asked, concern reflecting from her misty blue eyes.

I shrugged. “Not great. I still miss him.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes, we’ve seen each other, but nothing’s changed since I walked out on him in Hawaii. He’s still the same old Braydon with his issues.”

She nodded, knowingly. “Yeah, he’s tough to pin down. It’s okay to miss him.” The faraway look in her eyes made me wonder if she was talking to me or more to herself with that comment.

“So tell me more about your history with him—if you’re comfortable sharing,” I added.

“Yeah, I’m an open book. We dated for nine months. The best nine months of my life. We traveled abroad, went hiking in Belize, surfing in Thailand, dined in five-star restaurants, attended red carpet events. It was a fairy tale. I thought he was it for me—I’d found my forever. My parents were so happy for me. They wanted to meet him. But they never got that chance.” Katrina clamped her lips shut and the misty look in her eyes made me wonder if I’d hear any more. I wanted to know why they broke up—what had happened to end their fairy-tale romance to make Braydon into the jaded man he was today.

As silly as it was, something else was still bugging me. “Can I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

“When you were together, you went to his apartment, right? I don’t know why it bugs me, but I don’t even know where he lives.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I stayed with him most weekends. But he moved a few months after we broke up and I don’t know where he lives now.”

“Oh.” I guess that would stay a mystery.

Katrina straightened her shoulders and kept the topic light. She told story after story about their dating history—the places they’d been, things they’d done—recalling funny things he’d said, often making herself erupt in laughter. It all struck me as very sad. Their relationship had ended two years ago and she hadn’t moved on. Not one bit. My stomach churned. I couldn’t be like this girl. Realization struck me smack in the face. Maybe I already was.

A short time later, we said our good-byes, Katrina making me promise I’d keep her updated on what happened with Braydon, and I agreed.

If anything, my meeting with her strengthened my resolve about Braydon. I needed all or nothing. Seeing how she was still very much hung up on him was almost too painful to watch. I vowed not to become her.