Invisible String

Chapter Four- Time, Mystical Time

"You're a real comedian. Okay...before I let you go...something else is up. I can tell. You can say now or wait in until I'm in full Bridezilla mode later in the week. Up to you."

There's a thirty seconds internal debate whether or not he wants to bring up the Starbucks encounter, knowing fully well Jen will take out a fucking Times ad to find out who the mystery woman is and as much as he loves her, he just doesn't have the strength to get into it.

"Everything's fine," Bradley settles for. "I'm just exhausted."

"Okay," he can tell she knows he's bull shitting her, but she doesn't press, "go to sleep. I'll see you in a few days."

"See you then."

When they disconnect, there's no choice but to admit defeat and dig out the laptop. Maybe some work would be precisely the distraction he needs, though he'd promised himself to chill. Still, he doesn't see himself sleeping anytime soon and there was nothing else much to do, maybe there was no harm.

As he opens the cover of the Mac and brings up the script, the image of her comes to mind, the visual so clear that he's forced to stop what he's doing and draw in a sharp breath from underneath the bottom of his ribcage. Those eyes. The way they met his. The strange pull right before it happened.

Heart racing, he scrolls back to the beginning, to Jackson and Ally's first time meeting and that's when the type begins to blur. His throat goes white hot and then subsequently feels like it's going to close.

The exact feeling he'd wanted to conjure up with the moment he saw her had played out in front of him. Right there, in the middle of Starbucks, instead of a bar, but there it was.

What does he do with it, though, this revelation? Try to find her, go back there, hope he runs into her again? And if he did, what would he say? Babbling about the movie seemed like a surefire method of freaking her out as did asking if she felt the same, out of body sensation as he had. There didn't seem to be a great way to approach this, especially given he can't quite understand the why of it all.

Jen was right; he needed to get away, get the hell out of his own head.

Easier said than done.

***

Miracle of miracles, Bradley somehow manages to sleep a good portion of the nearly 14 hour flight and he supposes it's mainly because his body just surrended after the stress he'd been putting it under.

It's not without dreams and unsurprisingly, they're all of her. Nothing concrete, no words between them are exchanged, he doesn't even quite see her clearly. He knows she's there, he can feel her presence, sense her warmth.

It's feels like home. No other way to describe it and when he wakes up, a good portion of the awful weight of recent has been lifted, a contentness taking its place.

How a complete stranger has turned his mood completely around is inexplicable and he knows that logically, it should be intimidating. At the very least, confusing.

Somehow, it's not either one and as the plane touches down and he's greeted by the gorgeous sight of the city, a sense of calm washes over him.

It's all going to work out, just the way it's supposed to be.

The thought enters his mind at that exact moment unconsciously, unfiltered and without judgement.

The choice was his to listen to.

Jennifer had set up a car to take him to the hotel where everyone invited or involved would be staying and he answers her texts, telling her he's arrived and subsequently checking in on Griffin, despite the time difference.

"He misses you, but he's thrilled your mom's here. They're out right now, but I'll have him call you when they come back."

A slight pang that sits in the center of his chest, familiar by now.

"Tell him I love him, please," Bradley requests, shifting his carry on to sit squarely on his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Ab."

He can sense what she's going to bring up and his throat constricts at the idea.

"When you get back, we need to figure this out, Bradley. If you can't talk to someone, we can arrange something with my lawyer, but I'd rather you have representation."

"Do we have to do this now?"

He's stalling; avoidance at its finest, and he hears Abby suck in a breath, unwilling to delve into an almost inevitable argument.

"No. Go--enjoy Italy. Give Jen my best."

Her well wishes are not without resentment, but he certainly doesn't feel like a fight, either.

"Talk to you soon."

It's not the best beginning to what is supposed to be a vacation and the tightness in his chest is back with a vengeance, lingering the entire way to the hotel and into the space of the room.

Venice is magical. He'd spent a lot of time there in the past and fallen completely in love with the people, the food, the culture. Inspiration was abound and he's determined to soak up as much of it as he's able without anything extraneous getting in the way.

It isn't long before the walls feel like they're closing in and he decides to bite the bullet and explore the grounds of the hotel. Jen's being the social butterfly she is and although she's asked him to join the group of people already assembled for drinks, he's decidedly not feeling very outgoing.

The night is cool and quiet and as he strolls, he takes in deep, full breaths of the crisp air, filling his lungs to the brim.

Jennifer certainly knew how to pick a perfect place; even in relative darkness, the beauty of his surroundings is evident...ivy wrapped trellises, olive trees, a topiary garden,  one area more beautiful than the next.

As he turns the corner, he spies an area that overlooks a small Koi fish pond and enchanted, he stops to sit on the carved stone bench, to marvel at the simple miracle before him.

"It's perfect, isn't it."

The voice comes from his left and makes him raise his head, searching it out in the dim light.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I didn't know anyone else was out here."

The person stands to stretch and he stands, too, and he's met with the same eyes that haven't left his mind for a good week.

He's completely struck dumb and he sees how she tenses up, too, only for a brief moment, before her shoulders sink into a relaxed position and she smiles. It travels all the way up to her eyes, sending a sparkle to them that makes him swallow hard.

"Nice to see you again," she says and it's so warm that it breaks him out of the weird spell he's been put under.

She doesn't sound surprised that he's there and he can only gape.

"Who are you?"

It's out of his mouth before he can stop it and immediately, he tries to cover, to phrase the question in a way that doesn't make him sound like a complete dick, but she sticks her hand out, as if to let him know it's perfectly fine.

"Stefani," she reaches out again and mechanically, Bradley takes her hand.

Stefani, her name enters his brain, reconciling this new information as he finally allows himself to meet her gaze directly.

And just like that, her hand in his, he knows nothing from now on, will ever be the same.