Kissing Mr. Bradley

Chapter 31

I didn't expect a late night phone call from Ethan.

He chose to meet at a bar that was miles away from Bradley & Sons. It could've been located in an entirely different state.

The bar was vacant except for the bartender and someone working the jukebox. The lights were warm, the music was slow and the evening itself was nice despite the events from earlier that day.

I spotted Ethan sitting at the bar, his head hanging low as he quietly sipped his beer.

He didn't look up when I sat on the stool beside him. He continued drinking, his tie loose around his suit collar like he was either roughed up a bit or exhausted from being interrogated all night.

"I have so many questions," he said. "Right now, I'm going to get completely drunk."

I ordered a drink myself and sulked with him.

"I'll join you," I responded.

"You made it," he said. "I didn't think you'd come."

Ethan believed I would've declined his invitation while I was stuck on believing to the fullest that he wouldn't want anything to do with me after the altercation we had in his office.

"I'm not a threat," I said suddenly, trying to clear any doubt he may have of me. "Then again, I can't say I'm surprised you don't believe me. Your mother has a tight hold on you."

He put his hand on my leg and I quickly moved it away.

"You want to know something?" he asked. "I do believe you, Saffron."

"Really?"

"I do believe you," he said again. "But I could never call my mother a liar. Not to her face, at least."

"You've known her longer than I," I reminded him.

He closed his eyes. "I don't understand her sometimes," he said angrily. "It's like she lives to make others miserable."

"Why don't you stop her?" I asked. "She will listen to you."

"It's complicated," he said. "It's really not that simple to make Donna Bradley change her ways."

"Now that you believe me," I started, preparing myself for his reaction. "Do you think your mother is behind the hit on your business?"

He turned away with the look of guilt on his face.

"I can't answer that," he finally said.

"What about the Humphrey's?" I asked, choosing my words wisely.

"Saffron."

"And Bronwyn?" I asked more quietly, her name bringing a painful memory back to Ethan as he winced.

"Stop," he said. "Just stop."

"She's breaking you down," I told him. "That's what she wants."

"Andrew Cunningham," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

He said the name more clearly.

"Andrew Cunningham."

A strange feeling deep within the pit of my stomach occurred at the sound of his name. Then, the image of Andrew holding up a drunken Bronwyn at the Black Tie Gala re entered my mind.

"You don't think," I started.

Ethan shrugged, sliding his empty glass away.

"I don't know," he whispered. "They questioned him but he was in the clear. They didn't see him as a potential suspect so they let him go."