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“How about breakfast tomorrow?” he suggests enthusiastically.
I’d rather endure a blizzard in a tank top than eat with you again.
“I don’t think so. Look, I appreciate you coming, but as I told you in my apartment, I don’t want to get back together. I’ve moved on. I forgive you, but I don’t see a future with us anymore.”
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
For an answer, I start walking away. He catches up.
“I’m sorry. I just . . .” He pauses to run his hand through his hair. “Tell you what. Why don’t I give you time to think about it? We had some great times together, right?”
“Which you squandered for a quick fuck.” I bite my tongue, but it’s already out. The color drains from his face.
“I’m sorry. If I have to keep apologizing for the rest of my life, I will. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
I shrug, exasperated. “Why would you? Just find someone else and start fresh.”
“I’ll allow you to think about it for a day. Then I’ll look for you again.”
I frown. “Aren’t you going back to Paris?”
He leans forward to cup my cheek and caress it. “Not until I get what I came for.”
At this point, I want to scream. I want to tell him it will be a total waste of time, but I don’t bother, because he’s not listening anyway. He will get the message that I’m determined not to have him in my life again eventually.
He hails a cab. “Why don’t I see you home safely?”
I release a startled laugh. “Pierre, please. I should be the one offering to see you to your hotel safely. A Frenchman in New York!”
Loud laughter sounds from his throat. “Gosh, I’ve missed you.”
He opens the cab door, and I enter. “See you soon. I’ll spend tomorrow sightseeing.”
“Don’t get lost,” I tell him, and he laughs again.
He shuts the door and hails another taxi. While the driver is waiting for the traffic to reduce, so he can pull away from the curb, the door is suddenly pulled open, and Miles jumps in.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I question in anger.
“Who was that guy?” he answers with a question of his own.
“None of your business!” I retort hotly.
The cabbie turns around and gives me a questioning look. “Everything all right, miss?”
Could this evening get any more ridiculous? I sigh and nod. “All is good, thank you, sir.”
Miles’s face darkens with fury just as the cabbie pulls into the traffic. “I demand to know who he is!”
I scoff. “Demand to know what? Who gives you the right to demand anything from me?”
“We’re . . . lovers and . . .”
“That’s right. We’re friends with benefits, so don’t you try to run my life. If you think we’re more than fuck buddies, then you have a funny way of showing it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have no right to follow me around, and you have no right to demand who I’m seeing when you couldn’t have the decency to at least send me a text since we parted last week, even if you couldn’t call.”
