Page 61 of Tell Me Again
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. “What are we doing? We can’t go out to dinner like the past isn’t an ocean between us. Talking about the weather was safer than the rest of this.”
“No.” He reached forward and took her hand. “I don’t care about the past.”
“Your nose is growing.”
“It defined both of us,” he continued, ignoring her snarky remark, “for too long. You are here to grieve a huge loss. But that’s tomorrow. Tomorrow can be about reality. Make tonight about us.”
God, she wanted that so badly it was like a hunger gnawing away at her from the inside. “Do you think it’s possible?”
One side of his mouth curved. “Let’s do our own make-believe. We met on Tinder.”
She snorted. “Hell, no. Tinder is for hooking up.”
He lifted a brow. “So we’re not going to Netflix and chill?”
“If this is make-believe, then I’m a nice girl,” she said. She’d meant to make her tone light, but it came out too sincere.
He pretended not to notice. “You’re a nice girl. You probably work in human resources.”
“For a university here in town,” she agreed. “And what do you do?”
“I own a ranch about an hour outside the city.” He smiled. “You’re my first date from an online dating site.”
“Will there be more?”
“With you?” he asked softly. “I hope so, although I’m retiring my profile. When you knock it out of the park on the first try, there’s nothing worth swinging at.”
She knew they were playing a game, but the words still seeped under her skin, lighting tiny sparks of awareness along her nerve endings.
“Are you ready to order?”
Mark had returned, his face flushed and his eyes trained on the pad of paper he held. They gave him their orders and he scribbled everything down, offered to bring another round of drinks, and scurried away.
“You’ve scarred that boy for life,” Trevor said with mild amusement.
“Not me,” Sam answered immediately. “I’m a nice girl.”
He leaned forward again, took her hands, and stared into her eyes, his expression as serious as she’d ever seen. “I like you because you’re the woman you are, Sam. You don’t have to pretend to be anyone else for me.”
She pulled away quickly, rearranged the napkin on her lap. “You don’t mean that,” she said, forcing a laugh. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“Because you want to Netflix and chill?” She gripped the piece of white cloth in her lap for dear life.
“Because it’s the truth.”
Trevor hadn’t realized how true the words were until he said them out loud. Sam’s past and the choices she’d made, the things she was so ready to condemn herself for, didn’t matter.
Who was he to judge anyone? He’d lived his life cut off from emotional attachments. Other than Grace and his nana, he had no one in his life that mattered. He was already damaged from the choices his parents had made, but the pain of losing Sam once, followed by Bryce’s manipulation, had broken something inside him. He’d tried to fix himself by giving Grace the stability he’d craved as a child. He’d made a life for his daughter that was the closest thing to a white picket fence he could create.
He may not have heard of the term “Netflix and chill” before tonight, but he understood the concept. Casual flings were all he ever let himself experience. He told himself it was because he was protecting Grace, but somewhere inside he knew she was an easy excuse.
There was no excuse that would hold up against his feelings for Sam. She had as many broken pieces as he did, yet he had a feeling all of their gaps and holes would come together to make something complete.
“You shouldn’t judge yourself for the things you did,” he said softly.
“You’re kidding, right? I own every one of my bad decisions.”
