Page 28 of Brambles and Bellflowers
“Don’t want to meet who?” Damen’s hands were warm over my upper arms, and his grip tightened into an almost bruising hold.
“My father…” I bit my lip, focusing on the chain resting over his chest. Today, he wore black slacks and a burgundy shirt, and, like always, he had the top two buttons undone. There, against a black undershirt, rested the now-familiar charm that, once again, stirred something in my consciousness I couldn’t quite place.
But if Damen noticed me looking, he didn’t comment. Instead, he rounded on Dr. Stephens. “We talked about this!”
“I wanted to see if she’d consider it,” Dr. Stephens explained. “He’s quite eager…”
“I don’t care. This is her decision,” Damen rebutted. “He’s been waiting nineteen years already, he can suck it up and wait longer until she’s ready. Right, Bianca?”
His question pulled me from my musings, and I blinked at him. The conversation barely registered—something, just out of reach, was pulling at me. It was the most frustrating thing.
Why was his necklace bothering me now?
“Sure,” I agreed. I wouldneverbe ready, so there was no harm in making this promise.
5
“Isit okay for us to be here?” I asked, glancing around the familiar restaurant. Since it was just Damen and I, it was almost as if we were on a date. I hadn’t thought about that earlier, and now I felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. Still, I couldn’t help worrying about appearances. “Won’t Miles get upset?”
Damen had wrapped his arm over my shoulders and raised a glass of wine to his lips. Looking at me, he paused and asked, “Why would Miles get upset?”
My face heated. “Damen!” I hissed, pushing his fingers. “People are going to see.”
“Who cares?” He set his glass on the table and touched his forehead to mine. “Besides, we’re supposed to be best friends, right?”
His closeness made my heart race. “Are you making fun of me?” I whispered.
“I would never,” he smoothly replied. “Do you want pasta?”
“Don’t bribe me with food.” I was tempted, but still worried. “And there’s Bryce too. Won’t he get upset?”
“Oh.” Damen pouted. “Are you afraid yourhusbandwill get jealous? Or Miles, what was that about Miles? Why do you keep bringing up other people?”
“No…” I pulled back. What was withthisattitude? “I’m just concerned about the longevity of The Plan.”
“Don’t worry about The Plan,” Damen replied, the atmosphere lightening a bit. He brushed his hand down my arm. “Everything will work out in the long run. For what it’s worth, I’d like your sole attention when we’re alone—we don’t need to focus on anyone else. But before that, why are you worried about Miles? Are you thinking about him instead of me?”
Oh my God, he was a child! “I’m asking,” I began, pushing my hand against his nose, “because it’s his sister’s restaurant. Wouldn’t he get upset that we’ve come here without him?”
“Ah.” Damen blinked, and I dropped my hand. “That’s why we’re here. Colette won’t answer her phone, and I want to talk to her. She won’t ignore me being in her space.”
So he hadn’t brought me with him so we could be alone together?
I glared at the table.
“Why areyouangry?” Damen asked.
I pressed my hands to my cheeks. WhywasI angry? I shouldn’t have expected anything more.
Before I could respond, a petite blonde woman appeared beside the table. She wore black slacks and a white shirt and had an apron tied around her waist. Her thick bun bounced on the top of her head as she, with a wooden spoon in hand, shook her finger at Damen.
“You have some nerve,” she began. “I told you never to bring your dates here again.”
A pang of jealousy shot through me. Damen had brought other women here? I tried to hide my hurt as I scooched toward the window, ducking out from under his arm.
I didn’t want him to touch me right now.
“I…” Damen glanced between me and the woman, his eyes widening with panic. The candle in the middle of the tableflickered dangerously. But, in the end, he turned from me, choosing to address the woman instead.
