Page 16 of Crocodile Tears
That piqued my interest. What else could Deacon possibly want from me? “Could I get a clue?”
Luca had a cute, boyish smile when he deigned to show it. “Nope.”
“Can I buy a vowel?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Ugh, you're seriously not going to tell me, are you?” I pouted my bottom lip.
“Oh honey, that doesnotwork on me,” he said with a laugh. “Do you know how many pouting divas I have to deal with on a day-to-day basis?”
“Fine,” I gritted out, catching up to him. I eyed him up and down. “You know, I think you might be the only person on Deacon’s team that isn’t a total douche nozzle.”
Luca nodded as we reached the front door of Seafarer’s Table. “I completely agree.”
Chapter Ten
Deacon
Cody had put us at a table right by the bay windows, perfectly framed for him to take a photo through. I spied him sitting in his car, busy typing on his phone while we waited for Dove to arrive.
Uncharacteristic nerves coiled in my stomach as I wondered if she’d stand me up. Even with Evelyn’s help convincing her to come, I wouldn’t put it past the purple-haired storm cloud. She thought I was a womanizing millionaire content to sell my soul to the highest bidder and leave a path of ecosystem destruction in my wake like some villain off ofCaptain Planet. But I wasn’t really that guy, was I?
It hit me like a punch to the gut:maybe I was.I hadn’t done anything to make myself worthy of her forgiveness . . . not yet at least. I hoped this lunch would change things.
Looking anxiously out the window, I prayed no paparazzi would show up. I hoped we'd make it through lunch with just thenot-so-subtle photos the other diners were taking. One woman to my left tried to prop her phone in her bag and point it at me. I gave her a friendly but curt wave and she put it away.
I normally didn’t like dining on display like this, but Cody wanted to snap a pic through the windows to make it look less staged.Et voilà,we would have the photo that would save my ass.
Luca walked in, flashing an apologetic look at me that told me enough about the state of mind that Dove was in. She blustered in after him, hands balled at her sides, her purple-dipped hair swinging adorably around her shoulders as she stomped over to me.
I stood, placing my linen napkin on the table and adjusting my skinny tie. “Dressed up just for me?” I taunted.
“Argh!” She scrunched her face in frustration. Something about me always seemed to have Dove’s temper on a hair trigger. “You know what? I've changed my mind.”
She was about to turn away when I caught her by the elbow. “Wait,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice low and not make a scene. “I've already ordered the Lobster Thermidor and the saffron risotto, and if you don't sit and eat with me, they'll throw it all away.”
Her eyes widened through her wire-rim glasses in momentary surprise before she scowled at me again. “Curse you for using my hatred of food waste against me.”
“They also have a salted caramel cheesecake on the menu,” I added, knowing that would seal the deal.
“Fine,” she bit out. “One meal. And just because I really want that cheesecake.”
I smiled and pulled her chair out for her. “I know you.”
She grumpily sat and strangled her napkin like it was the current substitute for my neck. “You don’t know anything about me.”
I let out a contemplative hum. “We both know that’s not true.”
“You knew a nerdy, little twelve-year-old,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Now I’m a nerdy, larger twenty-seven-year-old who has no time for celebrity bullshit.”
“I was there when you and I were awkward tweens trying to figure out who we wanted to be in the world,” I said. “Maybe I don’t know you now. But I know who you wanted to be once.”
Dove grabbed the already poured glass of wine on the table and drank the whole thing back in one giantglug. But when she lowered her glass from her lips, she found I was already holding the bottle, ready to refill it again. If she was trying to prove I didn’t know her at all, she was failing. We’d once shared everything with each other—our dreams, our fears. She’d been there at the inception of Deacon Harrow, and I’d been there at the dawn of the curmudgeon who sat before me now.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” I said, nodding to Luca. He wandered off to tell the servers we were ready for our first course. Still within range if I needed him, he perched at the bar, waiting for his own lunch.
“I didn't really have a choice,” Dove replied tightly, staring daggers around the room at anyone who dared to look at us. She was certainly more effective at making people put their phones away than I was. “But my mother seemed convinced that this was a good idea. I still have no ideawhybecause she said it was for you to tell me, whatever the hell that means. Great job scheming with my mom behind my back by the way.”
