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“Hi.” I smile bashfully. God, he’s a beautiful man. I glance up to see the rest of the table and the restaurant for that matter, are watching our interaction. I blush, embarrassed. Sebastian reaches over and, in one sharp movement, pulls my chair toward him. He takes my hand and places it over his thick quad.
He picks up a menu. “Just so you all know, I’m eating everything in the house tonight. This is my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
“You haven’t eaten at all today?” Charlotte gasps. “Sebastian, that’s so bad for you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he had a liquid lunch,” Spencer mutters dryly, raising a brow.
They continue talking, and my eyes fall back to Helena. She’s sitting back at the bar now, watching our interaction.
Have his friends seen her? Do they shun her, too?
Once upon a time, this would have been her sitting at this table in my place.
I wonder what it feels like to watch us from the outside.
I can’t imagine.
And for the first time, I get it. I get why she won’t walk away and leave him alone.
I understand why she’s hanging around and trying to cause trouble to gain his attention.
Because any attention from Sebastian Garcia would be worth it.
She’s still in love with him.
It's late, and we are lying in bed. Sebastian is watching the news, and I’m pretending to read. The reporters on the television are speculating about Theodore's death, going on and on and on about the possibilities and who will be voted in as the next Prime Minister.
But my mind is firmly on Helena.
I’m not sure if I should bring this up, but the poison is burning a hole inside of me. I have to say it out loud.
“Why didn't you tell me that Helena is still in love with you?” I ask quietly.
He pauses before answering, his gaze firmly on the television. “Because it doesn't matter.”
“To who?”
“To everyone. Least of all her.” He continues watching the television.
I think for a moment as I watch him. What does that even mean?
“Has she ever asked you to take her back?”
“Every time I speak to her.”
Ouch.
“Is that why she does all these things? Is it some sort of revenge to try and hurt you?”
He shrugs, clearly uninterested.
“Sebastian, I don't understand. Explain this to me. I thought you hated each other.”
“I don't want to talk about this tonight. Seriously? You think I don't have enough on my plate at the moment, April? Now I have to deal with your insecurities.”
“Just forget it.” I exhale heavily and put my book down on the nightstand. I roll over and turn my back to him. Another thought enters my mind. Why haven’t I asked this before? “What did the police say?”
He stays silent.
I roll over to face him. “When she broke into this house, did they charge her for break and entering?”
His jaw clenches, and his tongue glides over his bottom lip. He’s annoyed.
Uneasiness fills me.
“We had no evidence. The cameras weren’t working.”
I frown as I stare at him. “She wasn’t charged?”
“No.”
“But you could have had a restraining order put on her. You did that, though, right?”
He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh. “I've done everything right by you, April,” he says. “You have no reason to doubt me.”
“Answer my question, Sebastian.”
He hesitates, but eventually answers, “No.”
I stare at him for a moment. I open my mouth to say something.
“Don’t,” he warns. “This conversation is over.”
I blink, surprised.
Wow.
I roll over and turn my back to him. I can’t believe him.
I inhale deeply and close my eyes as I try to chase the demons away, because those bitches are scared and reading more into this than they should.
How could they not?
He’s still protecting her.
He switches the television off snuggles in behind me. His body is close to mine. He kisses my shoulder, and I stare into the darkness.
There are secrets between us. I can feel them lurking.
What isn’t he telling me?
We lie in silence for a while, and eventually he says, “Good night, sweetheart. I love you.”
Do you?
“Good night,” I whisper.
But it’s not a good night. It’s a terrible night.
Sebastian’s ex-wife still loves him… and maybe, just maybe, he still loves her.
The alarm goes off.
Sebastian bounces out of bed and walks into the bathroom, leaving me in the darkness, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. I hear the shower running, and I go over what we talked about last night. Although it’s not what we spoke about that has me concerned. It’s what he wouldn’t discuss that’s triggered me.
I get up and walk into the bathroom. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment before he turns away and continues to wash himself.
I sit up on the bathroom vanity. Eventually, he turns off the shower and gets out. He begins to dry himself with a black towel.
“Can we talk about last night?” I ask.
