Page 53 of Shattered Dreams
“No,” I reply, pulling on my coat. “I want to feel like a woman again. Like me. Like I’m more than just the scorned woman who wasn’t good enough for her husband.”
He swallows hard. “Don’t do this, Ava.”
I pause at the door and glance back at him. “I’m not doing anythingyoudidn’t do first.”
Then I leave, letting the door slam behind me, leaving him in the hallway, no doubt breathing like an angry lion, fists clenched, the red of my dress probably burned into his memory.
The restaurant is cozy,all soft jazz and flickering candle lights. It’s intimate and romantic. Exactly the kind of place someone would bring a woman they wanted to impress—like Roman used to. Maybe like he did with Annie.
Fucking Annie.
My heels click loudly against the marble floor as I follow the host to the table. It feels strange entering a restaurant by myself after years of having my husband by my side. But hey, this is a new me. I lift my chin and fix a smile on my face as I approach Adam.
Adam isn’t as tall as Roman, but he stands when he sees me which is nice. He’s a gentleman. He’s handsome in a clean-cut, safe kind of way—light brown hair, sharp jaw, that confident, polite smile I’ve only ever seen on men who aren’t cheaters. He’s the opposite of Roman. And maybethat’swhy I agreed to this.
“You look…” His gaze moves over me, slow and appreciative. “Wow.”
A shiver runs through me at the desire hanging in his words. He looks like he wants to bend me over the table.
So much for being a gentleman.
“Thanks,” I say, tucking a curl behind my ear. “You clean up well, too.”
He pulls out my chair, and I sit, crossing my legs slowly, trying to act like I do this all the time. Like I haven’t been married for almost a decade. Like I didn’t just cry into my pillow three nights ago.
Remember Annie.
My back stiffens, and I imagine stabbing her in the eye before my face relaxes into a genuine smile.
The server brings menus, and Adam asks about my day. I answer, but I’m not sure what I’m saying. I can feel the neckline of my dress a little too sharply against my collarbone, feel the weight of his eyes as I shift in my seat.
I want to relax.
I want to be someone else for the night.
I want to want this.
But every time he smiles, every time he says something sweet, I feel the ghost of Roman’s voice in my ear. The wayheused to make me laugh. The way he used to look at me like I was the only woman in the world.
I shove the memory away.
Fuck Roman.
Adam orders a bottle of wine. I admire his confidence, and soon I’m leaning forward, gazing at him, trying to act like I belong here. When the server leaves, he leans closer.
“You okay?”
I blink. “What?”
“You seem a little tense.”
Shit.
I force a smile. “Just…out of practice.”
He grins. “We’ll go slow.”
God, he’s nice. He’s polite and charming and easy to talk to, and every time his hand brushes the table close to mine, I feel a tiny flutter in my tummy.
