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It burns.
It’s good.
Ana sulks in the seat across from me, but I barely see her. My eyes are trained on Kaelyn. I’m waiting for that moment.
Waiting.
Waiting.
There.
As the meal slides in front of her and the sommelier pours the drink, her eyes shoot up. I love that expression. The anger. The shock. The flared nose. The sharpening eyes. The way her fingers tremble when she sips her wine.
I accept her glare and revel in it.
I pay attention to the way she watches me as she drinks and then glances away quickly as if she doesn’t want me to know how aware she is of me. How aware we are of each other.
She eats her meal and pleasure skitters over her face. It pulls her eyebrows tight. It loosens her mouth. And I get angry because I wasn’t there to hear that satisfied moan. Someone else is sitting across from her.
In that moment, I tire of the game. I’ve made my move and now it’s her turn.
“I’m leaving now,” I inform Ana, wiping my mouth with a napkin and tossing it on the counter.
She grabs her purse. “Well, I’m not staying here by myself.”
I scoot out of the booth and bristle in surprise when Ana wraps her fingers around my elbow.
I yank my arm out of her grip.
She frowns. “I’m helping you.”
“And I’m warning you.” I stare at her. “Whatever you want with me, it won’t happen. Cut your losses.” I shake my head. “You’re a pretty girl with a long life ahead of you. You can find someone better.”
I stride away from her and almost laugh when I hear her heels skittering behind me.
She grabs me again and holds me tight. “At least let me pretend until we get to the door.”
I let Ana be.
When I pass Kaelyn’s table, she glares at me and Ana. Her eyes remain on my back when we leave. I can almost hear her cursing me out inside.
My lips inch up in a smile.
Because I know now.
I know that Kaelyn and I are fractured but not broken beyond repair.
Twenty-Nine
Kaelyn
Only half my attention is on the suit in front of me. I don’t know his name—though I’m sure he’s told me many times. I don’t know his hair color or the shape of his eyes or what he’s been talking about for the past fifteen minutes while I’ve grunted out acknowledgements like I care.
Maybe I might have liked him.
Maybe I might have discovered that we have a lot in common and that he’s actually a decent guy who was so moved by my beauty he had to shoot his shot.
Maybe this suit and I were meant to meet tonight, and this was supposed to be the start of our happily-ever-after. The story we tell our grandkids while we’re rocking on the porch.
