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“Last night was a mistake, Alex.”
I stood still, and felt my heart pound a little faster.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I mean, we shouldn’t have done what we did. It wasn’t right.”
“But that’s not…I mean, how can you say that?”
Lola shrugged. “It’s the way I feel.”
“Look, if this is about the job, or anything, I get that. I understand. And I know we’re on thin ice. But I want you to know—”
“Alex,” said Lola. Her shoulders had straightened. She was still smiling—Lola was always smiling. But this time, the smile was hollow. It felt like an act she was putting on for me.
Not like last night, where her joy and her happiness had been plain to see, where I could feel the pleasure I’d given her. Last night she’d been an open book but the woman in front of me today was a stranger. And her face was closed to me.
“Can’t we even talk about it?”
“What is there to talk about,” she said, sighing and standing up. “It was a mistake. I have a daughter at home, Alex. Please don’t come near me again.”
She stood up and walked past me, and as she did, I smelled her perfume, the heady, lingering scent that left me breathless.
“If that’s the way it’s going to be,” I growled.
I turned my head to follow her. Lola stopped.
“It is,” she said, and then I saw her marching up the stairs.
Out of my grasp once again.
Chapter 7
Lola
Animpossiblesituationhadarisen. Alex knew now. Knew that I found him attractive, knew that I still wanted him. And yet, we both knew that what we’d done was wrong. Somehow, without meaning to, we’d crossed a line.
I wanted to blame him: wanted to accuse him of taking advantage of me, at a weak moment. But the truth was I’d never have slept with him again unless I felt something for him.
But what did I really feel? Alex and I couldn’t stand one another. We bickered and argued. My smiling annoyed him—his scowling annoyed me.
Like I said. Impossible.
I hated Alex. Hated him for what he’d done, hated him for abandoning me. During my pregnancy, I’d pictured him countless times, the cruel thing he’d done by leaving me alone to raise his child. Alex didn’t know that Macy was his daughter and I was happy with him not knowing. I’d decided I’d take the secret of Macy’s dad’s identity to my grave. When my parents asked me who the father of my child was, I spoke in vague terms, suggesting that it was a love affair gone awry. I never lied. But I’m not sure I told the truth, either.
But if I hated him so much, why was the next week so awkward? Why were we exchanging glances so frequently? Before that night, that night when I’d given myself up to him, surrendered myself to the intense and wonderful lust I felt for him, it was easy to ignore Alex. He wasn’t especially likable, even if he was still handsome. Even if he looked just the same as he had six years ago.
But now it was like we were avoiding one another. Alex didn’t even subject me to the usual list of petty grievances and pointless criticism. He stayed away from me, keeping his distance, sulky and jealous. Like a caged animal patrolling his cage.
That Friday, I had another evening shift to work, and as usual, Luca was in with his cronies. He’d always been a regular guest at the restaurant—the perks of being the owner, I guessed. But even I was shocked when Andy flounced upstairs from the bar with a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket. He came over to me while I was mixing a few drinks for another table, and whispered in my ear.
“Luca,” he said, “just asked for my last bottle of 2015 Moët.”
“Holy cow,” I said. “How much does that stuff cost, anyhow?”
“Five hundred dollars,” he groaned. “Alex is gonnaflipwhen he hears about it.”
I shrugged. “What can we do? He’s an owner.”
