Page 61 of Heart on Ice

Pierre shrugs. “You’ve been looking out for me this week, I just wanted to do the same.” He disappears back into the kitchen to grab the cheese before taking a seat. “Dig in,” he tells me. And I do, I don’t realize how starving I am until I heap my plate full of deliciousness.

I wait for him to serve himself before holding up my glass to him. “Thank you for dinner,” I say, clinking our glasses together. We both take a sip and look over the rim at each other before we silently dig in. We are quiet after the first couple of mouthfuls, which are amazing, it’s like eating at my favorite Italian restaurant down the block. It is so good. I could get used to coming home to this.

“Good?” he asks. I moan. Which makes him fidget in his seat. “So, you um, didn’t answer my question earlier.” I nervously take a sip of my wine. “If you’re into half the stuff on Sam’s kink sheet.”

“Most on there don’t do it for me,” I answer, and he looks a little relieved. “You don’t have to join if you don’t feel comfortable. If you’re not ready to move on from Kitty. Don’t let Sam pressure you.”

“I’m ready to move on from Kitty,” he answers quickly. Oh. “And I, um.” He rubs the back on his neck exposing his muscular bicep. Arm porn at its finest.

My eyes widen as I realize what he is getting at. “You want to get laid.” The words are out of my mouth before I register what I’ve said.

“I just … you know …” He stumbles over his words.

“Have urges,” I answer for him.

“Don’t you? I mean, you went there the other night to destress, and I’m really stressed right now. I know you’renot interested because, you know … anyway, I respect your boundaries …” he rushes out to say. “Unless you …?” He looks up at me.

“Unless you what?” I question him.

“Unless you want to destress together,” he states. I stare at him shock. “Fuck, see I knew I would mess this up.”

“Is that what this dinner is about? You were trying to butter me up thinking this will change my mind, and I’ll sleep with you?” I question him, abruptly standing and throwing my napkin on the table. See, men are liars. My stomach turns, just when I thought about letting my guard down, he proves to me I can’t.

“Issy, no, that wasn’t it at all. I got Sam’s email after I started cooking this meal. Please, don’t leave,” he asks.

“I don’t trust you,” I tell him, which makes his face fall.

“That wasn’t my intention tonight. I was trying to thank you for being there for me during all this. I know it’s hard. I know I am asking a lot from you. I see it on your face every day, you look at me like that night at the frat house. I can’t get rid of the look of your broken face from my memory, it haunts me still. I just wanted to show my appreciation, but stupid me starts the conversation off about the fucking sex club instead of how was your day? Or did you hear how well the meeting with The Mavericks went or that Team PSP is trending. Instead, I’ve been here all afternoon drinking wine. That is the second bottle I popped, I drank the other one while I was cooking,” my eyes widen at that confession, “because Sam sent me that kink list, and all I could think about was you at that club doing all these things with other men. I shouldn’t feel jealous because I don’t get to be jealous, but I was, and I am, and …” he confesses.

“You’re jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I question him.

“Why?” He stares at me as if that is an absurd question.

“That’s what I’m asking, why?”

“Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the last fifteen years. Like I’ve said before, you are the biggest regret in my life. I wish I wasn’t so weak in trying to fit in with everyone at college because if I hadn’t done what I did, you and I would have gotten married, maybe we would have kids by now. That’s what haunts me, the life I so desperately want I threw away.”

“We were kids.”

“I was old enough to know what was right and what was wrong,” he tells me.

“I think you and I need to talk, and I think we need another bottle of wine,” I say, cracking a smile at him. The tension that was there eases as he rushes into the kitchen, grabs another bottle, and meets me back at the table. “Can we talk honestly and openly tonight, no judgment, I promise,” I say, holding up my hands.

“I’d like that.”

“I have a wall up when it comes to you,” I tell him.

“Understandably,” he adds.

“Not really. You messed up fifteen years ago. That is a long time to still be angry with someone.”

“I hurt you.”

“And I hurt you by ghosting you all that time,” I say, which surprises him. “I should have come back and dealt with you. Told you all the things I should have and then maybe it wouldn’t have festered inside me for so long.”

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