“I’m a surgeon.” I feel the heaviness of the lie as soon as it falls from my lips. “My mom is my biggest supporter.”
Her eyes go wide. “That’s super impressive. What’s your specialty?”
“General. I couldn’t settle on anything specific, and this one seemed to cover all the bases.”
It gets easier every time I tell it.
“I bet your work hours are just as crazy as mine.” She laughs, and I nod, wishing for a quick change of topic. “Do you get to talk to your mom often?”
I nod again. “I actually was facetiming her as I got ready to meet you for dinner.” I lower my chin as I stare into my glass of wine.
“Everything okay?”
I force a smile as I meet her gaze. “Yeah. Sort of. I don’t know.” I sigh, hating that I’m stumbling over my words.
Skye saw the messy part of me the first night we met when I was unloading onto the bartender. I don’t want to add more onto that heap of crazy, but she's making it so easy to open up.
“She still doesn’t know what my ex, Theo, did, and I don’t know how to tell her. So I keep saying that he’s good when she asks about him, and then I change the subject.”
She stares at me, and I can practically see her reliving the memory of me pouring my feelings into a glass of straight vodka.
Skye grabs the bottle of wine that Cupid left on our table and pours the last bit into my glass.
I lift it in a silent thank you, telling myself I don’t need to chug it. “So, any topics that don’t leave a dark cloud hanging over the two of us?”
She raises her brows in agreement and chuckles.
Thankfully, a new server with a normal name comes to take our orders, and I realize neither of us has even looked at a menu. We give him an apologetic smile and quickly glance over the options.
“Feeling adventurous?”
Skye looks at me and lowers her menu enough that she can see over the top of it. “You want to try ordering your meal in Italian?”
I cackle and shake my head. “Not thatadventurous.”
Tossing my hair over my shoulders, I lean into the table so I’m not yelling across the restaurant when I suggest a fun little game to lighten the mood.
“The suspense is killing me.” Her playful smile has heat rising in my cheeks.
“You order for me, and I’ll order for you?” The vibe in the room goes from tense to playful, and I almost feel giddy as her eyes dance at my suggestion.
Competition is in an athlete's blood.
She leans back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as though I’ve just started a dangerous game. “Do you have any food allergies?”
I shake my head. “Nope. You?”
“Nope.”
“Game on.”
I don’t even make it to the light switch before the emotions take over.
The hotel door clicks shut behind me, and I just stand for a second. Staring at nothing. Processing. Rebooting.
Then, I kick off my heels mid-stride. RIP my ankles. I drop my clutch on the small table that falls to the floor and becomes future Violet’s problem, and dramatically flop onto the bed.
“Heels were invented by a man,” I groan as I stretch my toes.
