I Want Your Heaven and Your Oceans Too

Hello (1/2)

It was ridiculous, she thought, peering at her reflection in the gleaming vanity mirror, how nervous she was. Sweaty palms, a pounding heart, butterflies in the stomach...the whole (sadly cliché) nine yards. It made her feel slightly off-kilter and the very notion made her frown. Spiraling even the tiniest bit out of control was no good and she didn't like it.

She especially didn't like it because he would immediately pick up that something was amiss...he had a knack for it and while when they were together, she'd considered it an asset, now it drove her crazy.

Fuck him, she inwardly told her mirror self. He doesn't get to know shit about you anymore. He had given up that privilege years before. Her eyes, however, told a different story and as she watched them begin to fill, she swore under her breath, taking a series of deep breaths while she braced her hands against the cold marble.

It's fine. You're fine. He can't get to you anymore, remember? What was it her therapist had tried to reinforce as of late?

Positive self-talk, she recalled, patting her cheek comfortingly. Okay, c'mon Stefani, you can do this. Look at you, you look good and You. Are. Good. You're good.

Smoothing down a few errant hairs and re-applying a fresh coat of lipstick, she took one last look in the mirror and reassured she appeared put-together and confident ( though she wasn't so sure about the latter), she stepped out of the restroom and into the private dining area of the restaurant.

And there he was, sitting at the table waiting, his hands folded. And goddamn if her knees didn't buckle.

Just being in his immediate physical proximity had always elicited a reaction...her body seemed to sense whenever he was even a foot away. Ignoring her shaking knees, she solidified her footing and walked over.

"Hey," she heard herself say in a voice that was not her own. "How are you, Bradley?"

She made the mistake of meeting his eyes as he looked up and just like that, they managed to bore into her very soul.

Bradley stood, poised to hug her but seeing the expression on her face, jammed his hands into his pockets. "Hi, Stefani. You look great."

He looked exactly the same, albeit a few more lines around his eyes, but emanating a peace that hadn't been evident since she'd last seen him.

"Thank you for meeting me," He pulled out her chair for her before going to his side of the table and sitting.

"I almost didn't," she admitted tightly. "It's been a few years."

Five, if she was being exact. Sixty months, two-hundred and sixty weeks, but who was counting?

"I know it has," he kept his tone soft, even, but he didn't have to lift his head for her to detect the regret. "I tried to—uh, I tried to call, text...many times. I didn't think you wanted to speak to me if I'm being honest."

Oh, you're being honest now? That's a first. Taking a measured breath, she traced her fingers over the condensation on her water glass. "If we're setting a precedent with being truthful, I didn't."

Her coolness seemed to strike him because he said his next words to the tabletop. "And I understand why."

"Look, I'm not trying to be rude here, Bradley, but I'm sure we both have places to be, right? Why don't you cut to the chase and tell me the reason for asking me here, now."