But my foolish heart refuses to forget how torn he was the night he drove me home. The words he spoke, the way he touched me, he wanted to touch me. He said things to me I could only dream of hearing.
He still loves me, but he refuses to let himself.
Guilt. Guilt separates us, but it was our mistakes that made us.
But he still wants me, despite our mistakes, despite our history.
Even with the gorgeous woman that waits in his bed.
But he is with her.
And he’s with her now as he walks through the door of the restaurant. Stunned by their sudden appearance, I sink in my seat, lifting my book higher, my gaze just over the edge as my waitress approaches with another glass of wine.
I send up a silent prayer, hoping the hostess seats them as far away from me as possible. But I can’t look away as Alicia smiles at him over her shoulder as he slips off her jacket.
It’s hell on Earth watching them function like a couple. I lift my glass, gulping down half the contents to fight the raging jealousy stirring within me.
Though we had played house for nearly a month, we never had the luxury of being in public. Once we let our hostility go and embraced the other, they had been the most fulfilling weeks of my life. But his choice is clear tonight as he wines and dines her, and my appetite disappears.
I thank my waitress when my pasta is set in front of me and curse my fucking luck as they’re seated in a booth adjacent from me.
Tobias is facing away, but Alicia can get a clear view of me where I sit at a two-seater, alone, next to the window facing the street. I flip a page in the book I’m no longer reading and lift my fork, the food flavorless as I force myself to chew and swallow. Alicia beams at Tobias from where she sits while rocks form in my throat.
Fuck this.
Lifting my hand to summon my waitress for a box, I knock my wine over. It spills to the carpet, and I’m thankful for the lack of sound, but it’s too late. Alicia’s eyes find me as I shuffle to stand, pulling my napkin from my lap to blot the carpet. Except it’s not my napkin, it’s the tablecloth I mistake it for, and now my dinner has joined my wine. It’s from the floor that I see a flash of flame as the candle on my table tips before it sets the cloth on fire.
I hear the terrified cry of a woman to my left as I lift my water glass to douse the flames. Thankfully it goes out, but not before setting my book alight. Before I can lift the linen to snuff it out, I’m pushed out of the way, and it’s done for me. Spiced citrus wafts through the air as I curse fate. Curse my inability to make a silent and smooth exit.
I can’t look at him. I refuse to.
“Thank you.”
His dark chuckle rumbles, lifting the air between us with the sweet sound. “You’re far less smooth than you were at eleven.”
“That’s clear.”
He lifts the half charred, half soaked book in his hands.
I glance at it, chest aching, utterly devastated that it’s now just another ruined piece of my history, our history. Tears threaten, and I sniff them back as I gather my purse.
“It’s just a book, Cecelia.”
But it’s not, it’s the last piece of me that clung to hope. It’s more than a simple possession, and he knows it. Finally, I lift my eyes to his, fire and water collide, and in them, I see those days we spent in his enemy’s house. The days and hours we talked, laughed, fought, fucked, and made love while he whispered things to me that made me breathe differently. “Yeah, it’s nothing, right?”
“Oh my God, are you okay?” My waitress intercepts as she dips to gather the dishes from the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I say softly, my eyes fixed on Tobias. My words meant for him. He absorbs them. “J’espère que je pourrais…” I wish I could be…
“Be what?” Tobias asks softly, his words wrapping around my heart, the gentleness in his gaze stealing my breath.
I know Alicia is watching our exchange, but I refuse to look away.
The waitress stands after collecting some of the mess from the floor. “I’ll get you a new cloth, wine, dinner,” she laughs softly, “sorry, I can’t do anything about the book.”
“That’s not necessary. And to be honest, the mini-series was better,” I joke, a shitty attempt at masking my pain, but the shake in my voice makes it clear, “and I was just leaving.”
She looks at Tobias, her eyes widening as she drinks him in.
He’s beautiful, isn’t he? He’s my thorn, and with him, I sang the sweetest song.
“And losing him,” I say aloud finishing the thought, taken fully by the seconds that pass, and he lets me in, truly lets me in, his gaze just as filled with longing, with our shared history. He remembers. He remembers us. He remembers everything.