Page 159 of Reckless
His hands tightened on the wheel.
“That was a joke,” I said quickly.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“No,” I agreed.“It wasn’t.But I’m here anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And that matters.”
“Yes.”
“I’m taking you somewhere you’ll like.”
“That is the vaguest possible thing you could say.”
“It’s also true.”
I crossed one leg under me a little and leaned back into the seat, watching the last of the light move over his face as we drove.“You know this is already better.”
He was quiet for one beat.I laughed softly under my breath and looked out the window.
That was the whole volatile truth of the night.I was happy before we’d even arrived.
Happy that he’d come to my door as himself.Happy that I had kissed him first and he’d looked pleased instead of smug.
I had loved him longer than I’d admitted to anyone including myself.
That thought sat beside me in the car as steadily as he did.
We’d met in a bar but when Charlie and Hope fake dated and introduced us, I’d known my fate was with him.
Built a whole little private crush around him and then laughed at myself for it because what else was I supposed to do with wanting a man like Xerses Norouzi when he had a past full of women that he apparently didn’t know their names.
I had thought my crush on him was something small and impossible.
He turned onto a quieter road and parked in front of a little place near the water that I had driven past a hundred times and never once entered because it looked too simple for a man like him to ever notice.
A tiny Italian restaurant.White-painted brick.String lights over the patio.The kind of place with handwritten specials and real candles and mismatched chairs that had probably been there for twenty years.
I turned to him as he killed the engine.“This is not where I expected you to take me.”
“That’s why I did.”I stared at the building.Then at him.Then back again.
“It’s cute.”
I laughed.“You told me last year you wanted to try this place sometime.”
I don’t remember that conversation.He got out, came around, and opened my door again.
I let him.
I was still independent.I could let him do things for me and still stay fully myself.
Inside, the place smelled like garlic, wine and summer.There were maybe ten tables, most of them occupied by locals in that easy, familiar way that told me this wasn’t a restaurant trying to impress tourists.It was good.
A hostess greeted Xerses by name.I looked at him.
