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Thoughts fly through my mind. The way she looked, the way she laughed, and the way she tasted. I had seen an easy-to-use little girl of the Sorvino family, and I had taken advantage of that. I had taken advantage of her naivety.
I hit the green answer button as I climb into my car and shut the door to block out the noise of the street. “Shirley, this is a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Evgenii. I hope this isn’t a bad time?” she asks, her voice seeming different, almost sultry. I smirk.
“I always have time for you,” I say casually.
I had used her, and I’d fallen for her. Then everything fell apart.
“I’m in New York for business,” she continues, drawing me out of my thoughts. “And I was thinking about you. I thought we could catch up for old times' sake.”
I raise an eyebrow but keep my suspicion out of my voice, “Really? I’m surprised. We didn’t part on good terms.”
“I’m not a child anymore. I’ve matured. There were good times, too,” she responds. “If you’re not interested, that’s fine.”
Before she hangs up, I say. “We can go to that bar, what was it called—O’Malleys.” I wait, drumming my fingers on my steering wheel.
“I’ll leave now to meet you there,” she says before she hangs up.
I pocket my phone and grip my steering wheel for a moment. I think back a few years. She was so beautiful, but she never competed with the Sorvino women. I always wondered why she didn’t consider herself as beautiful as them.
I’m certain Shirley is trying to see what information I’ll let slip about Staten Island, but still, it would be pleasant to see her.
I start my car and drive toward the bar, humming to the rock music playing on my radio. Traffic is pretty bad, so it takes me almost an hour to reach my destination and find parking.
As I walk into the bar, I look around. Shirley is sitting at the end of the bar facing the door. She raises her hand in almost a half wave, and I nod that I see her. I make my way over and sit in the seat next to her. We’re at the corner of the bar, so she’s half-facing me.
She smiles warmly. “Thank you for joining me.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I say, signaling the bartender to come over so I can order. “Vodka, neat. You can leave the bottle.”
The bartender hurries to attend to my order when he sees me put down a hundred-dollar bill on the bar as a down payment. Shirley sips her wine. “I see you still always know exactly what you want.”
“I always get what I want,” I smirk at her before shifting in my seat to get comfortable. “How are you? How is the West Coast treating you?”
As she speaks, I realize she is no longer that awkward girl I had taken advantage of. She’s confident, which surprises me, especially because she has such a strong presence that was absent when I approached her those years ago.
It makes me wonder if we could have been something. Maybe something strong and powerful, a couple not to mess with. I brush the thought away. Admitting something like that would be admitting I regret what I did, and I don’t.
I tell her a few non-work related things about Ivan and Tori, and when I speak about work, I talk about my new role and the deals we work on with her family. I’m careful not to let anything private slip.
We move to a table and place an order for some food as we continue chatting.
“You look far more beautiful than I remember,” I say after a brief silence. “Unless old age is just making my memories foggy.”
She gives a small laugh. “You always were a flirt.”
“Well, I do love to tell women they’re beautiful when they are.”
“I bet you tell every woman you cross that they’re beautiful,” she smiles playfully.
We sit back as the waitress sets our food down.
She keeps brushing off my attempts to flirt, which, combined with the alcohol, stirs a competitive fire inside me.
“You know, I mentioned we ended on bad terms. Despite that, we were still amazing together,” I try and make the comment casual. “I mean, I remember the things we did in bed, and that was amazing.”
It doesn’t even stir a slight blush from her.
