Dr. D Spills the Tea

Brunch

It hadn't been a typical brunch.

In fact, we hadn't gone to a restaurant at all.

Brent had been doing something on his phone distractedly for much of the ride, waving away my questions, not giving even a single hint about where we were going. It was a bit frustrating not knowing what the hell was going on, but as if he could sense I needed him, Phil had shot me a text. The conversation I had with him about George's questionable behavior kept me preoccupied until we had reached our destination.

When I saw that we had pulled up to the theater, I must have been very visibly confused because Brent had laughed. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Just trust me, okay?"

The show that for that evening was sold out. It said so on the sign out front.

But apparently, we weren't going in the front entrance at all.

Moving around the back of the building, through what was a dinky alley I'd be nervous to wander into alone at night, I watched as the back door opened. It was a woman of sorts and she smiled widely at the sight of us, waving wildly. "Oh darling, it's been too long!" Brent grinned, ushering me into the back door after the woman who was quick to take my hand in hers, placing a kiss on my knuckles. "My chosen name is Charlene," she said, her voice soprano voice dropping to a deeper timber as he said, "but I wouldn't mind if you called me Carlos." She had made sure to emphasize the word "you" in that sentence. Straightening, the woman's eyes moved to Brent, giving him a friendly cheek kiss. "She is gorgeous."

He just gave an amused smile. "Smart as hell, too."

They both turned to look pointedly at me.

"My name is Diana," I offered, trying not to feel flustered.

Clearing his throat, Carlos or Charlene had gone back to his original octave. "This way. You must have had a bit of traffic, your Uber driver arrived before you." She was being led backstage, noticing that actors were busting about, some half-dressed, anxious backstage hands rushing here and there. It looked like organized chaos. Charlene opened a door that led to stairs and turned to Brent, muttering something low that I didn't quite catch. When she noticed my curious gaze, she winked at me.

Oh.

Embarassed, I felt my cheeks get hot.

Brent thanked her warmly, leading me up the flights of stairs, opening a door that, to my surprise, led to a room with large windows and a clear view of the stage where the play was already in motion, a guy with a headset on glanced back in our direction, giving Brent a thumbs up before going back to handling the lighting of the production.

There were two chairs off to the side of the room, a small stool containing two containers of food with plastic silver wear on top of them. "What is this?" I whispered to Brent as he ushered me toward them.

He just shrugged, nonchalant. "Brunch."

. . .

It had been a full dress rehearsal for the show "Bye Bye Birdie".

There were probably ten people in the audience and Brent had told me those were the creative team and producer, enjoying their creativity come to life. It was insane that we were privy to this showing which was closed to the general public and the food he'd bought for us was amazing. I hadn't noticed it before but there had been coffees beside the chairs, sweet and hot.

I'd asked him how he pulled it off and he'd just smiled, shushing me.

I would've held it against him, were the show not completely captivating.

Singing, dancing, drama--I loved every moment of it.

Afterwards, he'd let me meet the staff, all of which were incredibly friendly. Brent seemed to know everybody, laughing with the stage hands like they were old buddies and it had occurred to me that their break involved similar-looking containers to the ones we'd eaten from. Lunch must be on Brent Holdings today.

When we'd nabbed a cab, he'd given the driver my address and when I got out, turning to wave goodbye, I watched him slip the driver some money before stepping out onto the curb after me. "I'll walk you in, Sweets."

I went to tell him he didn't have to but thought better of it, recalling the idling red Tesla. It wasn't here now, not that I could see, but he may have parked, might even be waiting to ambush me once I was inside of my own apartment complex. It felt safer to have Brent at my side and, when he'd walked me all the way to my front door, I'd thanked him. Almost thoughtlessly, I'd moved to kiss him on the cheek but hesitated, realizing he might not be okay with that.

We were colleagues.

And, I thought hopefully, friends.

But we weren't close friends and I didn't want him to get any ideas about trying to come inside.

Offering a smile, he'd taken my hand in his and, for a moment, I'd thought he was trying for a handshake. Instead, he lifted my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to my knuckles, just as Charlene had done earlier. Glancing up at me, he gave me a cheesy smile. "That was fun, Sweets. We should do it again sometime."

I tried to ignore how hot my face had gotten. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

"I'm glad you feel the same way."

Brent Holdings was proving to be a charismatic, charming, and genuinely interesting person. Chewing on my cheek, I wondered if a guy like him could really be single. The thought was jarring enough that I took a pointed step backwards, away from him.

He was a future colleague.

We would work together closely moving forward.

Turning, I unlocked my apartment door, half stepping backwards into it. "Have a good night," I said with a careful smile, giving a small wave.

He nodded, rocking back on his heels. "Goodnight, Sweets."

When I shut the door between us, locking it, I stared at it for a long moment.

Did we just . . . go on a date? When I leaned forward, resting my head against the door, I pressed my face into my hands, muffling a horrified groan. That wasn't actually a date, right? Brunch. We'd said brunch but that . . . God, if it wasn't a date, why was it the best one I'd ever been on? Is that pathetic? Seriously, how lame were my past relationships? That thought just led to another groan. I thought about the kiss he'd left on my hand, the come-get-me smile he'd given me. Could that really have just been brunch?

The sound of a light knock knocked me back into reality.

Straightening from where I'd been leaning against my door, I felt a rush of anxiety at who might be knocking. Looking in the peep hole, it was both a relief and shock to find Theo standing in my hallway. Dressed in black, hands in his pockets, he was the sight of ease even if he was oddly misplaced in my apartment building.

When I opened the door, his green eyes roved over me. "You look well."

"Phillip," was all I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Theo gave a slight nod. "I just saw George in the parking garage next door."

My sense of betrayal waned, arms falling limp to my sides. "What?"

"Don't worry, he knows I'm here." His smirk was telling and I got the gist he hadn't hesitated to introduce himself in his typical Theodore style. Quirking a brow, he took a pointed step forward. "May I come in?" It was a formality at best, he knew I'd never turn him away. Stepping out of the doorway, he sauntered in, looking about curiously. I shut and locked the door after him, leaning back against it. "Nice place. Like the windows."

"Where is Phil?" I wondered with a frown.

"His work schedule isn't as flexible as mine." Walking around the couch, he had gone straight to the window, giving a low whistle. Glancing back at me over his shoulder, he smirked. "I see why you weren't sure about moving."

"T," I said carefully, shifting my weight. "Are you planning on staying here?"

Theo was clearly focused on the view. "Either that or put you up in one of my hotels."

Blancing at that, take a few steps closer to see his expression. "You own one here? Since when?"

"It's a somewhat recent venture," he shrugged.

Stepping beside him, I watched his eyes move to me. "Is that why you're here?" I asked hopefully. "The new business venture."

"No," he said with a frown. "I could have handled that remotely."

Oh. Glancing up at his sharp gaze, I frowned. Oh. "Then . . ."

He nodded.

Bristling a bit, I muttered, "That's ridiculous, Theodore. I'm perfectly capable of handling--"

"Diana," he said, tone drawl, "nobody doubts your capabilities. I chose you to be the mother of our children because I know that you're capable. That being said, there are unnecessary risks being taken leaving you here in this low-security apartment alone with some deranged ex scoping out the place." He pursed his lips. "If he came in here and hurt you, I'd have to kill him." Leaning closer, his expression was completely unamused now. "Are you trying to land me in jail, D?"

Parting my lips, I stared up at him dumbly, trying to formulate a word.

"You're our family," he went on, narrowing his eyes. "I'll go out of my way to protect you whether you like it or not."

Baffled, I just gawped at him. Was that some kind of backwards threat?

Theodore was both intense and endearing, a mixture that was hard for me to digest. Now that I was signing up to be the mother of their children, would this version of him be the new norm?

Managing somehow to pick my jaw up off the floor, I cleared my throat, turning toward the window. I wasn't sure whether to feel imposed upon or incredibly grateful that he'd gone out of his way to show up. "Perhaps we should just catch a flight home."

Theo tossed his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side. The jerky motion was startling and warm and oddly comforting. When he ruffled my hair, I glared up at him. He was smiling triumphantly, already pulling his phone from his pocket. "Home sounds nice."