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Okay. We had lunch, and I took the last of my pills. And you?
Eating a quick lunch. I took your advice and invited Bev to dinner tonight so that we could talk and clear the air.
There was a few moments of silence before Sienna answered.
I hope I didn’t give you the wrong advice.
He chuckled. Was she worried about him?
Not to worry. I’ll see you later.
After lunch, he entered a furniture store where he bought two queen-sized beds and matching night tables, a leather sofa bed and coordinating armchairs, a dining room table and chairs, and a flat screen television set—all the essentials he would need to survive comfortably—and arranged to have them delivered next Saturday. The ultra-modern bedroom closets boasted enough shelves, drawers, and hanging space to accommodate everything he owned.
Next, he visited another store for linens, dishes, and the rest of what he would need. After contacting the manager at his new place, he made arrangements for it to be delivered on Friday.
Tyler checked his watch. It was time to meet Beverly. With a huff, he strode out of the mall and hailed a taxi, wishing he could ask him to take him home to Sienna and Dalia instead. He had to meet Beverly and convince her that their relationship was over—a difficult and frustrating task.
At the French Bistro, he’d reserved a table for two in the center of the room, thus avoiding dark corners with intimate undertones. After asking the manager to keep a parking spot for his guest, he waited inside the foyer.
For once, Beverly was on time. He stepped out and indicated the empty spot. She parked her car and sashayed toward him on her high-heeled boots, a radiant smile on her lips, her luxurious blond curls fluttering against her shoulders.
“Baby Boo, how I’ve missed you.”
The endearment annoyed him. As soon as she opened her arms to throw them around his neck, he cradled her cheeks and firmly pressed his lips to her forehead in a fraternal kiss.
Her eyes widened. “That’s it? After two days of separation?”
“We’re here to talk, not make out.”
“You’re reversing the order now?”
She laughed, the throaty laughter that used to give him goose bumps and make him focus on her luscious mouth. How was it possible that only three days ago he would have plied her with kisses, ready to roll on top of her? He sighed at his own stupidity.
“No need to linger in the cold.”
He held her arm and opened the door, letting her enter first. They took off their coats, and he checked them in the coatroom. Her flowery perfume encircled him, but rather than turn him on, it irritated him. Did she have to wear so much of it?
“We have a reservation for two,” he said to the hostess who led them to the table he’d previously chosen in the center of the crowded room.
Her body outlined by a black short dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck, Beverly frowned.
“Since when do we sit in the middle? I want a corner table with some privacy,” she demanded.
“Sorry, ma’am,” the hostess apologized. “We don’t have any other tables available before six-thirty.”
“Have a seat, Beverly,” he snapped. “We won’t be staying long.”
She narrowed her eyes. Was she trying to guess his intentions? He would make them clear as soon as possible.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked when the waitress approached.
“Have you already forgotten my preference?”
“Lord, give me patience,” he muttered between gritted teeth. “A glass of white wine?”
“Of course. What else would I have with steak?”
To avoid an argument, he ordered the same. “Two glasses of white wine, two steaks—rare—asparagus and potatoes.”
