Page 16 of Winging it with My Ex
jett
With the way Hadley looks,the Table and Vine Bistro—the nicest restaurant in Briarwood—isn’t nice enough. That black dress fits every curve, and man, does she have amazing curves. I don’t know what those types of almost-not-there sleeves are called, but they show off her soft shoulders. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I have to keep my fingers to myself. Well, that and a healthy dose of self-preservation. If I tried, I do believe this date would quickly end with me sporting a black eye.
I cut the car’s engine. “Wait right there.” I climb out of the car and walk around the front to open her door.
It’s like something out of one of those chick flicks when her hand slips into mine. Every nerve, every molecule in my body is twitching with the jolt that goes through me.
When she stands, she’s inches from me. Her makeup is perfect. And those lips. I’ve never seen a more kissable pair, but I’ve thought that forever.
“You really are beautiful, you know that?” I say.
She swipes a hand down the front of her dress. “It’s been fifteen years. I’m sure you’ve?—”
“No. There has never been a more beautiful woman than you. Ever.”
Her eyes lift to mine. They’re so dark and chocolate. I’ve always loved her eyes. Most men want blue or green, but when I look in Hadley’s eyes, I see warmth and comfort. And before I stupidly ended things, I saw my future. The love of my life. My forever partner. The mother of my children.
I’ll admit it. I lean in because I can’t stop myself. It’s been years since I tasted her lips, and I’m old enough now to appreciate who she is, what she means to me, and all the time I wasted being away from her.
My lips are hovering just millimeters from hers when she leans back. “I think we should go inside.”
If my eyes weren’t open, I’d swear I was transported to the Arctic with as frigid as I feel.
I’m not upset. Don’t have the right to be disappointed.
I lost the right to kiss her when I broke her heart.
“Yeah.”
As much as I don’t want to tick her off, I also know the only way to make people believe we’re dating is to act like it.
I rest my hand on the small of her back as we cross the parking lot. She literally jumps like I’ve hit her with jumper cables.
“Don’t do that,” she says.
“We’re dating.”
She gives a low groan. “Fine.”
It’s the kind of fine that usually means the guy is sleeping on the couch. In my case, I might be sleeping with the fishes.
***
Six hundred bucks later, and I’m taking her home. It’s not the price tag of the dinner that’s making me laugh—it’s the fact that she’s got enough take-out boxes to make a replica of the leaning tower of Pisa.
I can’t help but smile. This ridiculous, expensive dinner tantrum is so Hadley. She always did get even in the most creative ways. My first coach used to say, “How you lose shows more about your character than how you win.”
I’ve been losing at life for a while now, but tonight, even with my wallet significantly lighter, it feels like I might finally be playing the right game again.
I turn into her driveway, put the car in park, and cut the engine. As I reach for the door handle, her fingers wrap around my wrist.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay. I deserve whatever you throw at me.” I do. I own it. I’ll own that until I die. “At least this way, you don’t have to cook dinner when you get home from work this week.”
“I still feel bad.”
I turn my wrist until we’re sort of holding hands. “Don’t. I had fun tonight.”
