Page 43 of Waiting for You

"I can't believe it's been three hours," I gasped, grabbing my bag.

He pulled his own phone, his eyebrows shooting up. "Neither can I. That flew by."

"It was a great conversation," I admitted.

"It really was." He leaned back, unhurried, resting his hands flat on the table. "We need to do this again."

I watched him. My traitor brain flashed to Xavier at the estate breakfast table, to the velvet ring box burning a hole in his pocket, and then I forced myself back to Andrew's vivid blue eyes across from me.

"Yes," I agreed. "We should."

He settled the check before I could unzip my wallet. We walked out onto the busy pavement, traded pressure-free goodbyes, and he climbed into a waiting black car. I flagged a yellow taxi, slid into the backseat, and dialed Violet.

"Are you still trapped at the estate?" I asked the second she picked up.

"We just walked into the apartment," she answered. "Get over here right now."

When I let myself into their penthouse, Simon was sprawled across the deep sofa with Violet's bare feet in his lap, his thumb tracing slow arcs along the arch of her foot.

"Just signed the marriage license," I announced, collapsing into an oversized armchair, "and the indentured servitude's already begun."

"There's no slavery in this household," Simon defended mildly, not stopping the massage. "I'm doing this of my own free will."

"Is that the script she made you memorize?" I teased.

All three of us laughed. Simon set her feet back on the rug and stood.

"I'll head to the kitchen and give you two privacy," he offered.

"You can stay," I countered. "I need all available male input to decode this."

He glanced between Violet and me, shrugged, and dropped back onto the sofa. "Okay. Lay it on me."

I unloaded the whole saga. My father had ambushed me with Andrew's number and committed the home-address violation. I'd made the phone call and analyzed the depth of his voice. Then came the easy café date and the three hours I hadn't noticed evaporating.

"Three full hours," Violet repeated, her eyes wide.

"Three full hours," I confirmed.

"Give me the entire profile."

"He's tall," I listed. "Blond. Vivid blue eyes. Conventionally handsome. Kind. He listened to my answers, asked smart follow-ups, offered up personal details without me having to interrogate him. The conversation flowed without any friction." I took a breath. "He's a legitimately good guy."

"But?" Simon prompted.

I dropped my gaze to the cushion, picking at the threading. "But he isn't Xavier. And I know I'm not supposed to say that. I know I'm supposed to stop hunting for Xavier's ghost in every man I meet. But I sat across from him for three hours and couldn't stop doing the math. I kept running comparisons. I knew I was doing it, and I couldn't stop."

Violet stayed silent, weighing the damage.

"Violet gave Xavier my new number," I confessed, ignoring her wince.

Violet's jaw clenched, her eyes darting to the middle distance to dodge my glare.

"Then he called me," I went on, my voice rising. "Demanded to know exactly who I was meeting. Claimed he was checking in as a concerned friend, making sure I was safe." I yanked a loose thread from the chair. "And then he had the audacity to ask how I felt about him having a serious girlfriend."

"And what'd you say?" Simon asked, leaning forward.

"I lied and said I didn't care. Told him he'd built a life, and of course he should move on." My eyes hadn't left the cushion. "Then he asked if I'd moved on too. I lied again and said yes."