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I shook my head.
I’ll be in therapy for the rest of my life,I’d told Ty earlier this year, when I’d helped him, and Lia move to LA.As much as I want there to be a finish line, I know that’s not possible. It’s going to be constant work.
I’d made great strides, but I still had bad days. Days where I lost time or forgot things or got into stupid arguments with Sara. And then pulled in on myself, thinking that she’d leave, that I wasn’t worth all of this—
It had taken a lot of time, almost a half a year, to realize that I was doing her a disservice, gravely insulting her heart and intelligence, when I pulled that shit.
And after realizing that, after letting it go, things had been so much better that I’d let myself start hoping, planning, and all that sappy shit.
My hand slid into my pocket and clenched around the box there. I’d had it hidden in my office for weeks, because Sara was too smart and nosy for her own good. She would’ve found it in our apartment.
“We’re here,” my driver Terry announced. He swung the car smoothly into park and lifted a crinkling bouquet from the front seat. “And here are your flowers.”
“Thank you, Ter,” I said. “I owe you—thank you again for picking them up.”
“No trouble,” Terry said easily and winked at me. “Good luck.”
I breathed in deep, inhaling the soft peonies, and then climbed out. I smoothed my jacket and buttoned it, nodding at the hostess, who smothered a smile as I approached the woman sitting on a chair as though it was a throne. She had ankle-breaking silver high heels on, a dress that pooled around her like liquid night, and dramatic makeup that made more than one passerby do a double take.
I raised an eyebrow at those heels, recalling that the last time she’d worn them—that had been all she’d worn. I could still recall the way that spike had felt digging into my lower spine as I held her against a wall and made slow, sweet love to her.
Because as wild as Sara and I could be, we’d been working on intimacy like this. Dinners, flowers, and making love.
But we also couldn’t help torturing each other a bit.
“About time,” Sara said as I held out my hand and she took it, tugging on me to help her up. I pulled her hand up to my mouth and brushed a kiss there, taking a second to savor her perfume, her soft skin, and her warm presence. She was there, I was there, and we were together. Standing together on a foggy street in San Francisco, outside our favorite restaurant. There was a clamor and laughter from down the street, a noise of diners inside, the lilt of music from the speakers, and the glow of sparkling strings of lights around the trees that shielded the entrance.
“Hey,” Sara said softly, and her other hand brushed along my cheek. “I didn’t lose you, did I?”
I glanced up then and gazed at her, letting her see the full weight of me being here with her, and she smiled, her cheeks growing rosy. I loved that was still all it took.
“Never,” I said and leaned in, brushing a kiss on her mouth. She smiled at me, and I offered her the flowers, causing her to laugh, and shake back her dark hair. “You knew you were going to be late.”
“Contingency flowers,” I said. “Terry’s idea.”
“Of course,” Sara said and took my arm, as I led her inside and up to the hostess.
The hostess smiled as I winked at her, and then feigned a concerned look. “Oh, Mr. Michaels. You’re so late—I’m afraid your usual table is taken.”
Next to me, Sara gasped and gave me a stricken look, then hastily tried to smile at the hostess as though she wasn’t crushed that our anniversary dinner was ruined. “Oh, well, we can wait.”
“It’s two hours at least,” the hostess said, and Sara shot me a look, while I gave her an apologetic look.
“Is there anything—?”
“Let me see.” She flipped through the book. “Well, there’s a special event happening on the roof, but it’s not the whole area. As long as you don’t mind a bit of music…”
“Not at all,” I said as Sara gave me a look. “Let’s go.”
“Do you not remember the last time we sat in an area having a special event with music?” Sara hissed at me in an undertone.
I smothered a laugh and shrugged, “I’m sure that won’t happen again. Come on.” I towed Sara along as the hostess wove through the dining room and toward the elevator. She unlocked it by punching in a code and gestured us in.
“Have so much fun,” she said. “It’s a really lively band.”
“Danny,” Sara snapped and whirled on me when the doors shut. “Did we not agree that never again would we sit in aspecial eventssection after last time? Do you not remember how horrible the music was? We couldn’t even enjoy our food.”
“That wasn’t here, though, this is a nice place,” I said, fighting to keep my poker face in place.
