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She kept it.
Wears it.
Right against her heart.
If that doesn’t scream, her heart beats for me, nothing else will. So her going on this date is another attempt to draw the line, to balance the power in her favor, but it’s too late. She should know better than to let another man think he stands a chance.
She thought I wouldn’t find her but she forgot that I maintain her calendar now, where she puts everything. Even her weekend plans. It simply said… Dinner with S. The second I read it, my already thin patience snapped. I’m done with these games.
It’s time to make her mine once and for all. She wants to punish me a little more, she can do so from my goddamn side while sleeping in our bed and living in our house.
Tonight, I’m going to win back my wife.
I slam the door to my car when I arrive at the restaurant and stalk inside. It’s a small place, buzzing with laughs, the clattering of spoons, and the staff rushing between tables when I enter. Since my body and soul are connected to hers, I find her in a second, sitting in the corner in the back. All my laser focus is on my kitten, so when I get closer and catch her swiping away tears, her beautiful face red, my vision blurs.
ThatSbetter not be the reason behind those tears.
I twist between tables and cross the distance to theirs before coming to a standstill when I see the old man sitting across from her. Wait, where have I seen him?
And did he make her cry?
“Kitten.”
She jumps at the sound of my voice and her head snaps toward mine. Shock renders her mute for the first few seconds while the old man smiles knowingly. He is awfully happy for someone who has my woman crying across from him. It pisses me off but my priority is her.
“How did you find me?” she blurts out, a hiccup lacing her voice.
I rush to her side and bend to cup her face, worried she’s hurt somewhere. I turn to the man and growl, “Did he hurt you?”
“Shammi? No.”
The name rings a bell and I remember him as our security guard. Her dinner plan was with him. It makes sense. Another fact hits. My fiery Bianca bluffed me into believing she was going on a date. Twice now, I’ve been fooled by her.
Still, my worry doesn’t vanish at her answer. “Then why are you crying?”
“Take her home, boy,” the old man orders me, and I instantly recognize from his posture and the air around him that he was in the army. It’s all in the subtle way he holds himself and the unwavering glare. However, his eyes swim with a warmth my father never possessed.
“Kitten, you wanna go home?”
“Yes.”
I take her hand as I help her up. As she grabs her purse, a look passes between them that I can’t decipher but I let it go. For now. I hate the sadness shadowing her brown eyes. When I keep holding her hand, she doesn’t attempt to pull away and the small gesture fills my heart with so much hope and happiness, I could burst.
I dare to hope she is letting me in.
“Please tell me you’re okay, kitten?” I softly ask, grazing her wet cheek with my knuckle once we sit in my car.
“I am,” she whispers before gracing me with a tentative smile. “It’s time we have a talk, Dash.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I declare. I’ll give her anything but that.
“Okay.”
Again that flicker of hope lights up inside me and with a deep breath, I focus on driving back to the apartment. We arrive twenty minutes later and no words are spoken as the elevator climbs to our floor. I’m still cupping her hand, running my thumb back and forth across the back of it when the elevator pings. The feel of her skin, soothing me while my heart is racing like a damn roller coaster.
“Do you want to come to my apartment?” she offers as we reach her door.
I nod.
