Brooke

I walk in Tuesday morning with two caramel macchiatos and a straight black coffee, looking as Normal Brooke as ever, and Ms. Marks greets me with a slight frown.

"Oh, Brooke, I forgot to tell you...Nathaniel's working from home this week to wrap up the photo session for the Tahoe wedding." She eyes the three cups of coffee, and I bury the kick to my gut and put on a smile.

"No worries, Ms. Marks." I hand her one of the macchiatos then settle in one of the leather chairs. "I take it you'll be running the 11:00 with future Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton?" That was supposed to be me and Nate taking the lead on that one. I was hoping that would help jolt us back to the normal we had before our weekend.

She shakes her head, tipping her cup back. After a dainty sip, she licks her bright red lips and taps the edge of the table. "Actually, I think you're ready to take care of that by yourself." She smiles when my eyebrows go sky high. "Nathaniel thinks so as well."

I should be elated. I should be yanking out my phone to type in Rock first independent meeting! Instead I squeak a small, "Thank you." And as soon as she's in her office, I take the black coffee, march outside, and dump it all over the stupid perfect flowers out front.

***

Joshua kissed me right at 10:15. I led him into it when the alarm went off, and he took his cue. It was soft, nice, fingers on my cheeks and our stomachs pressed together. It was the perfect lead in to date three. But instead of scheduling that, I booked us another date two. Something fun and far away from my apartment or his place.

That date went the same. Everything on time, in place, we had fun...but...but...it felt so...forced. I don't know how to fix it, so I continue to go with my comfort zone dating habits, and I've scheduled our date number three-technically four-not leveling up at all. Just... stuck.

I feel like I'm running through pudding. Work seems weird without Nate there, and Ms. Marks says Nate gets this way when he's deeply involved in his photo-editing. I should relax and take her word for it, since she's known him his entire life, but whenever I think about him-which is every forty-six seconds...or less-I picture his beanie covering his dark unruly hair and a cigarette near his lips. Even in my mind I want to yell at him for pulling that stick of death up to his perfect mouth.

I've tried talking to my friends about it. Tasha came over yesterday and helped me pick outfits to wear to get out of my dating slump. Morgan wants to take me clubbing this weekend. All I want to do is sit in my pajamas and show them pictures of Nate so they understand just how hunky this guy is, and it's perfectly okay for me to be a little off my game.

Or maybe it isn't okay, but as my friends they should tell me it is.

I pull out my phone as Snickers hops in my lap, and I try not to think about how Nate hasn't been to work for four days now. After double-checking the schedule for tomorrow, I go to my goals and add in what I hope gets me through the rest of the week. I've been fumbling left and right because while Nate has been physically absent, he's taken up a lot of head space.

This guy should not have messed up my plan. He wasn't even on it.