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That sure looks like Taryn. In the shadows of the hallway leading to the restrooms, I have a perfect view of the pair without them being able to see me. I stand here longer than proper and stare at the women. No—I stare at Taryn. She looks absolutely stunning in a short black skirt and a red top.
I can’t hear what they’re saying but the smile on her lips belies the sadness in her eyes. It looks heavy, and I’ve seen it before. First, on the day her brother was sent away to do time. Second, the afternoon she buried her mother.
So what’s got her so sad now? I mean, the funeral was just weeks ago, so I’m sure she’s still grieving, but it seems like there’s something else there. I continue to watch as her tattooed dark-haired friend talks animatedly while Taryn takes bites of cake and sips red wine.
Can I be so bold to sneak around to the other side of the bar so I can hear what they’re saying? Or should I stop being a complete pussy and just walk up and say hi?
No. I’m not ready for that. I stayed away at the funeral so I wouldn’t upset her further, as I know she has to be salty at me for sleeping with her and leaving her. For taking her virginity. Why she never told me she hadn’t ever done it before is beyond me. I’d seen the evidence on my dick when I went to the bathroom. The blood had stunned me. It wasn’t a lot at all, and I thought maybe she’d been on her monthly cycle. But there was none on my hands, fingers, or mouth. I’d been shocked and rendered speechless.
And then I just up and left her sleeping like a beautiful angel and I was the devil who’d taken her innocence. That isn’t something I’d forgive quickly either if I was her. It’s been five years and a selfish part of me is glad Eric is still behind bars or else he’d already mopped the floor with my ass for doing that to her.
I slink back into the shadows when Taryn’s gaze moves around the bar. Almost like she can feel me watching her. I head into the restroom to do what I had intended. Elle is waiting for me at our table, and will be wondering what took me so long.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and pull it out to see Richelle calling. I decline the call and shake my head. What can she possibly want?
After I’m done in the restroom, I go back to find our food waiting and Elle’s face colored with an expression I interpret as annoyance.
“Sorry,” I say, taking my seat and putting the cloth napkin in my lap. “I ran into an old friend.”
It wasn’t a lie, per se.
She quirks an eyebrow at me in question. “Is that so?”
I don’t care for the accusation in her tone, so I simply reply, “Yes.” Then, I pick up my fork and begin to dig into my chicken parm.
The food is delicious as always. I resist rolling my eyes back into my head as I savor all the flavors.
“How are your meals?”
I look up to see the owner looking down at me with a smile on his mature face.
“Amazing as always, Tony,” I reply. “The chicken parm is...” I put my fingers to my mouth in a chef’s kiss.
He chuckles. “Glad to hear it, Carter. How’s business?”
Tony has my app. I’d seen him at one of the many rotating club locations a few months back. His wife left him for a younger guy a couple of years ago, and I guess he’s getting back out there. Good for him.
“It’s downright amazing,” I say with a wink that Elle won’t see. She knows I own an IT company that develops apps and that’s all she needs to know.
He winks back and turns his attention to my date. “And for you,signora?”
She bats her eyelashes at him after wiping her mouth daintily on the white cloth napkin. “Absolutely delicious.”
I look at her plate to see her ravioli seemingly untouched. It’s possible she ate one, but who knows. On the past few dates with her, she’d drink all the booze and barely touch her food, taking it to-go.
“Delighted to hear it,” Tony replies to her. Then, he focuses his attention on me again. “Enjoy your meal. And try the wine special. The Aglianico is new. From Naples.”
“Will do,” I assure him.
I’m not a fan of wine—I prefer the harder spirits—but I wouldn’t mind trying his suggestion. It never fails to deliver. I summon the server over for a bottle.
When she arrives, she pops the cork. “A sample?” she offers.
I nod and hold out my glass.
Elle makes a face. “I only drink white. I’m good.”
I level a look at her. “You should at least try.”It’s five hundred a bottle.
