Page 63 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anthony
A minute or so after I get a table, Iris and Bobbi reach the restaurant. It looks like they’re getting along—no scowling or uncomfortable tension. Iris is radiant, with a small smile on her lips, and I get the urge to lick the mole under her mouth.
I wasn’t planning on having lunch with her today. I had a lunch meeting scheduled, but when her gifts arrived, I had Wei cancel it. My team in Chicago can wait, but Iris can’t. The sweet scent of tiger lilies drove me crazy all morning, making me miss her with an intensity that left me badly distracted.
Iris sits in a chair opposite me. Bobbi takes an empty stool at the bar, one that gives her a view of both us and the door, and orders her lunch.
“She isn’t sitting with us?” Iris asks.
“She probably figured we’ll be more comfortable this way, unless you want her to join us.” But I’d rather she didn’t. Not because I don’t like Bobbi, but because I want to have some private time with my girlfriend.
“No. I mean…is it weird?”
“Let Bobbi do what she wants. She’s the pro.”
Our waiter gives us a wine list and menus.
“Well. I’d believe that if she didn’t bait Tolyan.” Iris tells me what happened. “I was scared they’d start smashing each other’s faces or something.”
I laugh. That man should’ve known better than to comment on Bobbi’s hair. “She’s a little sensitive.”
“Bobbi? Sensitive? Are we talking about the same person?”
“Because she’s a woman, men question her competence. She’s good at her job and doesn’t appreciate it.”
“Tolyan actually looks like a God’s gift to badassery, so if he and Bobbi go at each other, it won’t end well.”
“Probably not.”
“Maybe Bobbi should stay home when I’m at work. I don’t want to upset Elizabeth.”
I think it’s funny that Tolyan and Bobbi were trash-talking, but Iris is too anxious about this. “They’re both professionals. They aren’t going to start breaking furniture and rearranging each other’s faces for nothing. And Bobbi is not staying home while you work. A man’s entitled to worry about his girlfriend.”
“You shouldn’t. Besides, it’s totally safe at the foundation.”
Iris doesn’t get it. And she never will, because I’m never letting her know the kind of horror and despair I felt nearly a decade ago when I thought she died. I can’t go through that again. Not with my sanity intact. “It’s still my job to worry. Wouldn’t you worry if you had a Lamborghini that it might get a scratch or ding?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but I’m not a car.”
“Exactly. I can always buy a new Lamborghini, but there’s only one of you in the world.” I already failed once. This is a miracle second chance, and I’m not screwing it up.
“I’ll be extra careful to keep myself healthy and unhurt. Not even a paper cut.” She raises her hand. “I promise.”
“Fine,” I say, only because this is the most I’m going to get out of her. She doesn’t know I worry about losing her through something out of her control, just like on that stormy night in Tempérane.
“What do you think about splitting a pizza?” she says, closing the menu. “Quick and easy.”
Fuck.I should’ve known she’d want pizza. We’re at an Italian restaurant, after all. I should act like it’s not a big deal. Everyone likes pizza. But I can’t get the memory from Cajun Milan out of my head. It’s painful because that was the last time I saw her face to face before the car accident. Shameful because I let my fear for her drive me to cruelty.
Iris peers at me, her eyebrows slightly pulled together. “Unless you want something else?”
I force myself to smile. “Pizza’s fine. You can get whatever you want, except veggies. I need some meat.”
“Don’t worry. I like pepperoni.”
Of course she does. Her taste hasn’t changed much.
