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“No need, Alexander,” Walt says.
“Right, sir.”
Walt steps out onto the sidewalk, stands to his full height, and straightens the lapel of his tuxedo jacket as I watch in slack-jawed wonder.
He’s so imposing I freeze, unwilling to step any closer to him. Call it survival instincts or maybe masochism, but I want to get a good long look—just to know what I’m up against tonight.
His inky black tuxedo jacket slopes over his broad shoulders and then tapers in at his waist. The soft edges of his bow tie seem to only force my gaze back up to his sharp jawline, the contrast impossible to ignore. My chest tightens with longing. I want to draw him, sculpt him, trace the lines of his face and try to recreate him on canvas so I can go back and reference this moment any ol’ time I want.
Then he has to open his mouth and ruin it.
“Get in out of the cold,” he says, motioning for the door of the limo with a touch of impatience.
I roll my eyes and move quickly, ducking past him and sliding across the back seat, as far from him as I possibly can get without moving to another bench altogether.
Walt follows, sticking to his side, not that it matters. The moment the door closes behind him, he seems to be everywhere in that limo, stealing all the oxygen.
Alexander looks back at us in the rearview mirror.
“All set?”
Walt nods then glances over at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Sorry I was late,” I say, rushing the words out before he can speak in case he was about to chastise me.
“I’d only just pulled up.”
My shoulders sag in relief and I glance out the window, giving myself a break. Looking away from him feels like I’m coming up for air. It’s a nice little reprieve from an overwhelming man I can’t quite figure out.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and starts to type.
At first, I don’t mind, but when we drive down another city block and continue on in stop-and-go traffic, I find myself getting annoyed with him.
“Is this what it would be like?” I taunt. “Are you the type of man who’s always on his phone even when he’s on a date?”
“I didn’t realize this was a date.”
“It’s not,” I say quickly, embarrassed.
He sets his phone on his thigh and hangs his arm across the back seat of the limo in an act of sheer dominance.
“Just to be clear, I work every chance I can get because I have to, but if I were with someone who wanted to spend time with me, I’d get off my phone.”
His eyes implore me to challenge him on that, but I’m suddenly too nervous. God, I hate that he does that—strips me of my power with one cocky glance.
“Good to know.”
I rearrange my purse on my lap and look back out into traffic.
“Thank you for attending this fundraiser with me,” he says after a long silence.
It’s the sincerity in his voice that persuades me to glance back at him. To my surprise, I find him studying me.
I reply with a small smile. “I’m happy to do it. I can’t really complain about getting all dolled up. It was a fun afternoon.”
“I’m glad.”
I nibble on my bottom lip before continuing. “And you don’t have to worry. I haven’t forgotten the arrangement. I know I’m only here because my name was on that envelope. This isn’t like…some…”
He leaves me hanging, trying to come up with a way to articulate what I’m hinting at.
Finally, I groan in agony, rushing to continue, “That’s just to say, I know you would have wanted to invite Camila tonight, and I’m sorry you can’t spend the evening with her.”
“Your apology isn’t necessary. Camila and I aren’t together anymore.”
“Oh.”
Hope blooms in my chest until reality comes into sharp focus. Hello! What does it matter if he’s dating Camila or not? Why do I even care?! Our relationship won’t change. He’ll just start dating someone else.
Then a horrible thought occurs to me.
“You two didn’t break up because of our kiss, did you?”
Oh god, I’ll feel horrible.
He actually chuckles at my question as if it’s utterly preposterous, and immediately, my hackles go up.
“No. We broke up the night of the dinner party.”
“Really?” I’m confused. “But then she came over to the apartment after that and you guys hugged.”
“Did we hug?”
“Yes. I saw it.”
Realizing what I’ve just revealed, I backtrack.
“I happened to be walking by. Anyway, yes, you guys definitely hugged.”
“Right. Well, we aren’t together. That day we were tying up loose ends. I haven’t seen her since then.”
“Oh.”
He goes back to looking at his phone, and a moment later, I add, “You don’t really sound that sad about it.”
“I guess I’m not.”
“Weren’t you two together for a while?”
“I suppose.”
“And you aren’t sad?”
