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I cringe at how old that makes me feel before taking a moment to look around the room at the people in suits and fancy clothes; I definitely don’t fit in here.
When Nate still isn’t here ten minutes later, I pull out my cellphone from my purse, about to send him a message when I hear my name being said by a voice that has shivers fluttering up my spine.
My head snaps up, my gaze colliding with Tristan’s and then Nate’s beside him who is looking extremely guilty. My gaze bats back to Tristan and I frown when I notice he’s sporting a black eye.
He looks between me and Nate before he settles his gaze on me. “What are you doing here?”
“I, erm…” I focus my gaze on Nate, a question in my expression as I raise a brow. “Would you like to answer that one? Or shall I?”
Tristan’s eyes narrow before his head snaps toward Nate, gritting out, “You called her?”
He shrugs, acting indifferent and like this is a normal everyday thing for us all to be in a room together. “Messaged her on Facebook actually.” He looks at me. “Hey, Harm.”
“Hi?” It comes out as a question as I look between them both, my muscles tense as I realize we’re garnering the attention of everyone in the restaurant. “I think you need to sit down before we get thrown out.”
My joke is met with a blank stare from Tristan but he slowly sits as Nate walks over and pulls out a chair before he puts up a finger, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cellphone.
“Cole,” he says in an unnecessarily loud voice, even though I didn’t hear it ring at all.
Tristan’s body is practically vibrating with anger but I can’t tell who it’s aimed toward: me or Nate.
“You’re sure? Now? Fine.” Nate pockets his cellphone and looks between us both. “Sorry, Tris, Harm, duty calls. Another time?”
“You—”
Nate’s eyes widen, a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips as he interrupts Tristan. “Hey, considering you’re both here, you should stay and have lunch instead.” He winks as he starts to walk away. “Catch you later.”
I look down at Tristan’s hands that are clenched into fists and swallow before I stammer, “I… I should go.”
I lift out of my chair but stop when his gruff voice grinds out, “Stay.”
Closing my eyes, I lower back down before crossing my arms over my chest and opening them back up, my gaze clashing with his. “Why?”
He looks around the room, his brows pulled down into a frown as his gaze pings off several things before he finally looks back at me. “I… We’re both here anyway so we may as well eat. The food here’s good and I’m starving.”
He signals to the waitress to gain her attention and I snort. “Yeah, being a douche must work up quite the appetite, but I’m not hungry so if you don’t mind.” I lift out of my chair again, picking my purse up off the floor.
“I took a hit for you, the least you could do is have lunch with me,” he snaps.
My head swivels toward him, my gaze flitting over the purple bruise under his eye before sitting back down and leaning across the table. “Don’t try and guilt trip me, I didn’t hit you.”
He watches me intently, his eyes narrowing and his nost
rils flaring. “No, but your ex-husband did.” He raises a brow. “Nice choice in men, by the way.”
Tilting my head, I stare at the bruise, surprised that Gerry hit him. I knew he was angry, but I’d never seen him be violent before. “I…” I pull my shoulders back, determined not to let him affect me. “It was nothing you didn’t deserve, I’m sure.”
The waitress walks over to us with a glass bottle of something in her hand and places it on the table, unscrewing the top and turning two glasses over. She pours the clear liquid into them, much like they would do with a bottle of wine—only this is the water that I ordered earlier.
I cringe as I watch her pouring my money out into the glasses before looking up at her.
“Are you ready to order?” she asks, standing back and pulling a small notepad out.
“Yes, I’ll have the steak, medium,” Tristan says, motioning for me to order next.
I shake my head at her. “Nothing for me, thank you. I’m not staying.”
Tristan rolls his eyes, looking back down at the menu and scanning it before closing it. “She’ll have the same as me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument as he hands the menu back to the waitress.
