Page 113 of Smash

Rafe froze, leaving me to figure out how to respond.

“No,” I said quickly. “He’s in London on a business trip. Rafe and I ran into each other outside the brownstone. We were both about to head to the supermarket since our fridges were empty, but we decided this was easier.” I shrugged, trying my best to come off casual.

Dean’s girlfriend smiled politely, but his brows pulled together for a second before he recovered. “Ah.” He nodded. “Got it. Well, nice running into you both.”

Of course, the hostess had to lead them to a table only a few feet away. As they sat, Dean glanced back over at us.

Rafe sat back down, but his fun-loving smile from a minute ago was now gone. “It’s a little scary how fast you did that,” he said.

“Did what?”

“Came up with that lie.”

I glanced over at Dean’s table just as his girlfriend turned to look over her shoulder at us. Our eyes met, and she quickly looked away. Then I watched as the two leaned in and whispered to each other.

“They know,” I said.

“That’s your guilt talking, Talia.”

I shook my head and glanced over once again. “They’re talking about us right now.”

Rafe didn’t turn. He just kept looking straight at me. “Who cares? Let ’em talk.”

“But…”

“Talia.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

I met Rafe’s gaze. He took a deep breath and reached across the table.

I looked down at his hand. And back over at Dean’s table yet again.

Rafe’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t pull back his waiting hand. “Talia…”

My heart raced, but when I looked into Rafe’s eyes, I saw nothing but strength. Slowly, I slid my hand into his. His fingers closed around mine, and he smiled.

“Thank you.”

A second later, I felt Dean look over. My entire body went stiff.

“Ignore them,” Rafe said.

“I’m trying.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice wasn’t mean. It was honest. “Tonight is all we have for I don’t know how long. Can we please just try to be in the moment?”

I looked down at our joined hands, took yet another deep breath, and nodded.

Dinner came. We drank wine. Rafe tried. God, he tried. And maybe for a few minutes here and there, I forgot and enjoyed myself. But Calder’s return hovered over us like there was a third person at our table. I couldn’t shake what was coming tomorrow. Or maybe, more importantly—I wasn’t even sure anymore—what could be ending tonight.

Two weeks.

I’d had two weeks of waking up next to Rafe. Of sharing coffee and wine, our dreams and our passions. I’d started this journey by convincing myself it was temporary—that it was the way to get Rafe out of my system, the way I’d know for sure I needed to repair things with Calder. But nothing about the man sitting across from me felt temporary anymore.

Dessert arrived, and the waiter placed a tiramisu between us with two spoons. Rafe thanked him, and as the waiter stepped away, Rafe reached into his pocket.