Page 56 of Almost Perfect
So at least for tonight, Wyatt was getting equal parts Calla and Mayhem.
Though again, based on that conversation in the car, he didn’t want both. No part of me or my life was simple or nice or even steady. He clearly didn’t know what to do with me, but he’d asked me here.
And I’d arrived.
Strangely, getting dressed like this, out of my sweats and chunky sweaters and warm socks, had made me feel powerful. It hadn’t felt like donning a mask exactly, but more like picking up an accessory I loved and hadn’t worn in a while.
Andthatfeeling… not loathing the persona that’d built my career? It felt awesome.
Granted, I wasn’t Mayhem tonight. But it was close. It was a decent mix, the look and the mindset. The anticipation for how he’d react, how he’d handle this version of me, practically burned through me. I had to know if he would do what he’d said in that promising, whiskey-rich voice of his.“You bring yourself, and I’ll be ready for you.”
Oh, honey, I did.
“Hey, Wyatt, good to see you. And—Oh.” The hostess blanched as soon as she looked at my face. “Uh, um, wow, so. Welcome to Basta. It’s, um… wow.”
Busted.
Not that a little makeup or lack thereof made me obviously not Mayhem, but I always liked to hope that maybe being out of LA or out of music industry and Hollywood context would help, but no such luck.
“We have a table in the back, Lizzy. Can you lead the way?” Wyatt’s hand pressed into the back of my coat and silk lining of my jacket and guided me forward after a wobbly Lizzy.
“Wyatt Saint, out on a weeknight! What’s the world coming to?” A pretty blonde slipped from her seat and smiled widely as her eyes skated over Wyatt’s form.
He did look good tonight. I hadn’t seen the shirt, but he wore dark jeans and black leather boots of some kind—couldn’t see for sure since I hadn’t been able to really study him yet. Not that it mattered—the man would draw eyes in a burlap sack. He was just that genuinely handsome. Plus that serious, steady vibe about him just made me want to lean into him—he was the kind of man you looked at and you just knew he’d catch you if you fell.
This woman, whoever she was, clearly thought so. The hand on his wrist, stopping his progress, said maybe she wanted to be the one taking him out tonight.
“Hey, Samantha. Nice to see you.” He looked at the table, and heat jumped to his cheeks. “Hey, Quinn. Chase. Dahlia. Sarah.”
Samantha.Could it be his ex, Samantha? He’d mentioned her in passing once or twice. Was Silverton big enough to have more than one gorgeous blonde who knew Wyatt well enough to joke about him being out of the house? Unlikely. This had to be her.
And wow… no smolder between them at all. Maybe I shouldn’t have felt such satisfaction, but I did.
“Yeah, does anyone else see his date, or is that my imagination?” The only man at the table, presumably Chase, had that hazy, stricken look people sometimes got when they saw me in person.
I stifled a laugh and smiled. “Hello.”
Chase swallowed with effort. “Hi. Big fan.”
“You’re—youare. Holy crap, what are you doing here?” one of the women said as she stood and shot out a hand. “I’m Dahlia. So nice to meet you.”
At this, everyone else stood, and I shook their hands. Only Quinn didn’t seem completely enthralled, but of course, we’d met.
“Good to see you,” I said to her, and she gave me one of what I suspected must be her signature chin nods in response.
“I knew I recognized you,” Sarah said when I greeted her.
I smiled, hoping she didn’t feel bad about not placing me right away last time we’d met after her pseudo-date with Wyatt. “You did say I looked familiar.”
She shook her head but didn’t seem all that surprised or even thrown. Not like Chase, whose cheeks had lit on fire and couldn’t stop staring. Instead, she just said, “Well, now I know.”
I nodded, that matter-of-fact statement warming me. Now she knew. Nothing earth-shattering, just… simple. Real.
I’d been searching for that when I’d run away and tucked myself into the little cottage. And so far, everyone I’d met here had been just that—not fawning and crazed, but kind. Warm. Maybe a little enamored, like Chase, but still genuine. Notaftersomething.
The realization wrapped around me like a fuzzy blanket, and I mentally nestled into it because here it was. Yet again, the confirmation that Silverton was home. However long I’d been away, my roots were here, and my tree grew happy when I let it.
Wyatt’s hand pressed into me, almost like he wanted to apologize for this run-in. “Well, guys, we’re eating in the back, so don’t mention this to anyone.”
