Page 33 of Love.V2
My nerves, the anticipation, all faded into the background as I made my way across the room. This was Tess. My Tess. It didn’t matterwhat had happened before—ten years ago or ten months ago. All that mattered was now.
She’d said yes. She was giving me a shot.
I was grabbing it with both hands.
Chapter 9
Tess
“You come here often?”
There were a lot of things I’d missed about Dylan, and his voice was easily top three. I’d always loved it. The underlying rumble of laughter, a foundational warmth that drew people to him and made them want to stay awhile.
I probably missed it the most because that’s what I lost first. Sentences trailed off as his eyes darted over his phone screen. Nearly silent dinners when he sat, visibly exhausted, across the table, picking at his food. Early mornings alone in the giant house he’d supposedly bought for us, but spent no time in.
Even as I turned, his corny line making me smile, it was those thoughts that poked a pinprick of worry in the fragile hope I’d beencarrying around all day.
To say Dylan was reluctant to leave my apartment last night was an understatement. He’d made me choose a restaurant right then and there. “Somewhere you’ve wanted to go but haven’t had a chance to yet,” he’d practically begged. After he’d booked a table, he’d forwarded three different calendar invites and email confirmations.
“You’ll be there, right? Tomorrow?” His eyes had pleaded as he’d left, spooked by the awkward moment with the condoms and everything after. His concern was tinged with a wild sort of happiness like he couldn’t believe I’d actually agreed to his crazy “start from scratch” scheme.
I couldn’t believe it, either. Could we really start over? He’d said it wasn’t complicated, but it was. All the memories of our first years together and our bitter ending clashed with the tingling anticipation swirling in my chest.
But one thought of those dark, pleading eyes last night made me want to try.
“First time. How about you?” I spun on the barstool and nearly teetered off of it. He looked good. Deliciously, remarkably good. I had griped at myself all afternoon as I pinned up my hair and tried on three different shades of lipstick until I’d settled on the one I wore now.It’s just Dylan, I’d whispered, adding another layer of blush to my cheeks. But he’d said it was a first date, so I’d prepared accordingly.
He had, too. His crisp white shirt peeked out from the sharp lines of his blazer. His jaw was shaved clean, and I caught a whiff of the light, spicy aftershave I loved. The one he only wore for special occasions.
My teeth dug into my bottom lip.I was a special occasion.
“My first time, too, if you can believe it.”
I drew back in a gasp. “No. What are the odds?”
“Fate.” He was grinning like a lunatic, but then again, so was I. “I’m Dylan.”
My eyebrows raised at his offered hand. When he’d said we were starting from scratch, I’d figured we’d go more for first date territory than a complete do-over. But apparently he’d bought into the “pretend we don’t know each other” angle. His eyes sparkled with mischief andinterest in a way he hadn’t looked at me in so long. I was dying for more of it.
“Tess.” My palm slid into his. An eruption of butterflies in my stomach. He gazed at where our skin touched. Was he thinking about last night, too? Not the condoms, but…before that?
“Would you believe, Tess, that I just happen to have a reservation for two and no one to dine with tonight?”
“Wow, it really must be fate.”
“Must be.” His soft words were still teasing, but they sounded like something else, too. When I looked up to see his gaze roaming my face, the butterflies transformed into flashing drones, sending urgent signals through my veins.
Dylan Morris is looking at you like he wants to eat you.
As he pulled my chair out after the hostess showed us to our table, when his fingers brushed lightly down my arms, I wondered if this starting over business just might work.
***
“Creative director at an advertising agency. Impressive.”
I admired his commitment to the bit, but as our salads were placed in front of us, I had to wonder just how far he’d take it. The whole night? Into next week? What happened when we saw each other at the office on Monday? Did we lead secret double-lives now, pretending to be strangers?
I hummed, scooping a black olive over to the side of my plate. “It’s fulfilling. I never loved a job until this one.”
