Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
I can’t…He can’t…
“Here we are!” Marissa announces cheerfully, striding up to the table with a tray full of fragrant food. The appetizers have arrived, and I’m too stunned by his declaration to remember that I was supposed to flip her tray and spill them before she could set them on the table. I sit perfectly still, paralyzed by fear as I wait for him to shoot to his feet and leave. Instead, he closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, seemingly exhausted.
Marissa is completely oblivious to the scene she’s witnessing. She arranges four different appetizers on our table with careful dexterity, all the while explaining each one in excruciating detail. James opens his eyes and meets my gaze, and I’m surprised to find his expression has softened to one of what I’m really hoping is forgiveness. My heart leaps in my chest.
“So you’re going to want to dip those in the spicy mango salsa,” Marissa explains. “It has a kick to it thanks to the jalapeños, but it is literally to die for.”
“Marissa,” I say, cutting her off while maintaining eye contact with James.
“Yes?”
“We got it, thanks.”
She beams. “Sure thing. Let me know if you need anything else.”
She waltzes away with a pep in her step, probably aware that her work here is done. When she’s out of earshot, I lean forward.
“Love?” I ask, my voice shaky and fragile.
His warm brown eyes scan my face before a slow-spreading smile overtakes his handsome features.
“Love,” he agrees.
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding for the past 10 minutes and then sag back against my chair. The range of emotions I’ve felt in the last few days is enough to send anyone over the edge, but now I sit here across from James, contemplating love—LOVE, of all things! I thought I’d be leaving the club in a body bag, stricken dead from a broken heart.
He’s studying me thoughtfully, probably wondering the same thing I am: what happens next?
I reach my hand out for his, face up across the table. It’s a vulnerable act, especially in the middle of the club’s dining room, but James doesn’t hesitate before he takes it. His hand envelops mine, and somehow it’s the most intimate way we’ve ever touched, palm to palm, heart to heart. I want more—a passionate kiss, a long embrace. Hell, I’d shove the appetizers to the floor and crawl across the tablecloth to get to him, but I’m not trying to send any of these old fogies around us to the hospital.
“I missed you,” he admits, stroking his thumb across my knuckles.
I still don’t trust my voice, so I squeeze my lips together and nod.
“I want to hear about your travels.”
There’s so much to catch him up on, and I do, over dinner. We start with the appetizers, and yes, the spicy mango salsa does strike me dead. I tell him about Diego and Nicolás and the girls. I scroll through my iPhone camera roll to show him the highlights of my time abroad and am embarrassed by the utter lack of photos of architecture or landscape. Surely I visited something that makes me look worldly? A cathedral? A statue? Instead, my phone is jam-packed with photos of Luciana making faces, Luciana waving to me on a playground, Luciana posing in front of an ice cream shop with a massive melting cone, Luciana and me with our cheeks smashed together as we test out various Snapchat filters. My heart aches knowing she’s still upset with me.
“She’ll come around,” James promises once I fill him in on the situation, and I hope he’s right.
After five courses and a delicious fruit tart, we walk out of the club hand in hand. He hasn’t invited me back to his house yet, but I’m hopeful that he will. I’m hesitant to leave him. It took so long for us to get to this moment, and we still have so much to clear up. I fear if we leave separately, he’ll go home and think over what I’ve told him then change his mind about us.
We’re standing beneath the porte cochère when he brings the back of my hands to his lips for a kiss.
“That’s all I get?” I tease.
He smirks before he tugs me closer and grips my chin between his fingers. With a subtle tilt, he tips my head back and kisses me gently. My eyes flutter closed as I wrap my arms around his neck and press up onto my toes. A groan ripples through me as he tightens his possessive hold, gathering me close. Our chests brush and he urges my mouth open so his tongue can skim across mine. A shudder runs down my spine as the kiss turns urgent, hungry. His hand fists my dress at the base of my back and my nails dig into his shoulders.