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I could see the moon in his eyes, and some part of me wanted to see the whole world in him too. I was my own world, and the sooner I acknowledged that, the faster I’d be able to move on—not just from Adrian, but also from everyone else who held my heart hostage.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m starving. Can we go back inside?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.
“I hate you,” I said, following him.
“Liar,” he whispered.
Why was he so good at this? It was impossible to hate him.
Tristan was gone when we got to the dining table. His side of the table was clean. Morris took our food for heating.
Adrian lightly conversed with me. After a while, we were laughing and talking like nothing had happened between us. Like water under a bridge. Now, if only I could explain that to my invisible tears.
Maybe we were better off as friends. I didn’t want to ruin that. He was still worth having around.
Adrianand I were cool now. Friday afternoon, I was informed Adrian would be treating us to dinner in a classic restaurant.
I went online shopping for a dress and a pair of heels with Tristan’s card. Morris brought it to my room when it arrived. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d visited a classy restaurant or gone out. My mom didn’t like Ciara and me staying out late with friends, and it still saddened me that if I hadn’t gone the route I wanted, I would have missed out on the teenage thrills and fun. I knew I had gone too far, and it’d gotten me into a big mess, but I had moved on from it even if I had a big scar on my back, reminding me of my foolishness.
I had a good feeling about tonight’s dinner. I knew Karen would be there, but I didn’t care. I would try to be friends with her. She was a sweet soul.
At seven twenty p.m., I was running around, trying to put on my earring. Tristan had sent Morris, like, three times to come up and call me.
I had everything under control until I decided to do a neat bun. I sucked at styling my hair, but in the end, I got it. All this planning reminded me of the incident. I still wanted to know why Tristan destroyed his wedding and picked me, but would I be okay if I never knew?
My makeup was already done, and the dress looked good on me, I must admit. It was a black satin evening dress that stopped above my knees; it was sleeveless with a deep V-neck showing small cleavage since I hadn’t been blessed in the boob department. I grabbed my purse and left the room. I ran into Morris on my way downstairs.
“Mr. Sanchester is—”
“I’m ready,” I cut him off with a smile.
“He is in the living room.”
“Thanks.”
Tristan was staring at a new painting on the wall. He was wearing black sweatpants and a white T-shirt with black Nike shoes.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting.”
He turned around to face me; his eyes scanned what I was wearing. His eyes lingered longer on my chest before he met my eyes.
“Do you have somewhere else to be after dinner?”
What a way to compliment someone.
“No.”
He stared at my strappy heels and then looked away. He was making me feel like I had done too much. I mean, it was a dinner in a fancy place. Why wasn’t he more dressed up?
“Is that what you’re wearing?” I asked.
“Yeah, we are going to eat and chat, not have tea with the Queen of England.”
He is really going to wear sweats and a T-shirt?
“Shall we?”
I nodded.
