Chapter 13
13
Elle
V ivace, the restaurant Preston picked tonight, is one that Audrey and I have walked past plenty of times and looked at with longing. Despite how good the ratings are, neither of us can afford to pay hundreds of dollars for a meal while running our own business.
It’s the type of place men save up for to bring their wives on Valentine’s Day or take their sweetheart to propose. A night, a meal to remember. Not the kind of place a guy wastes money on for a fake girlfriend he just met.
Even though I feel completely out of place, I leave the restroom to make my way back to the table.
My phone is sitting innocently beside the silverware on my side when I take a seat.
I guess Preston made quick work of deleting messages, and hopefully didn’t respond to any of the trolls.
I’m about to ask him when he blurts out, “I fucked up again.”
“Oh?” I ask in confusion, glancing around to see several patrons now watching us, but thankfully not snapping photos.
“I read your DMs.”
“There were some mean messages, but it’s fine,” I assure him.
“No, Elle, I mean, I read the ones between you and Riley.”
“Oh.” I try to recall what we may have said to each other. I think I only teased him about actually being the pro hockey star he claimed to be when I cut his hair the first time. Then I asked if he would tag the salon for free promotion.
“He, uh, did a decent thing, tagging you and encouraging the teammates to become clients.”
Preston looks like he would rather have all his teeth knocked out than admit something decent about Christian.
The waiter comes over before I can respond, placing menus in front of each of us.
“Good evening. Would you like to hear today’s specials or sample our featured wine?”
Preston doesn’t look at the man in his fancy server tux. He just stares at me. “If you want to leave, I won’t blame you.”
“I’m not going to leave,” I assure him, then give the waiter a smile. “Could we have a moment?”
“Of course,” he says before bowing and turning away.
“You’re not going to leave?” Preston asks as soon as he’s gone.
“No. I gave you my phone voluntarily. It’s not like you peeked at it without my permission. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Okay. Good,” he says, exhaling a relieved breath.
“I went through Christian’s phone a few times without him knowing,” I confess softly.
“You did?”
“Didn’t find anything except messages from his teammates. I think he deletes chat logs he has with women after he dumps them and blocks them, or when he decides he doesn’t want to see them anymore.”
“Fucking asshole,” Preston grits out.
As if on cue, my phone lights up with a new text alert. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” I remark.
“What do you mean? Riley just texted you? Like just now?”
I nod, then pick up my phone to toss it back into my purse before placing it on the hook on the side of the table. My bag may not be an expensive designer, but I don’t want it getting dirty on the floor.
“What did he say?” Preston asks.
“I don’t know. Don’t care either,” I tell him as I pick up the menu. “Let’s not talk about him anymore tonight.”
“Deal. I wish I didn’t have to think about him for the rest of my life.”
I glance up at the angry man across the table, wanting to ask yet again what caused him to hate Christian so much. But I remember Preston’s response last night that it’s “complicated.” Meaning, it’s none of my business.
So, I drop it, and instead focus on choosing which item on the menu to eat tonight while enjoying the company of my fake date.
I’ve just finished my salad when the buzzing starts up from my purse. Preston eyes it, then me. “The suspense is killing me.”
“But I thought we were going to avoid talking about him for the rest of the night,” I remind him.
“Like usual, the self-centered asshole refuses to let that happen.”
“He’ll stop eventually.”
Preston gives me a look that says he knows an easy way to stop it. I know I could easily block Christian’s phone number and that would be it. Why haven’t I done that yet? I have no freaking clue.
“Just read them, Elle. We don’t have anything else to do while we wait for our entrees.”
“Fine,” I mutter before retrieving my phone from my purse. Opening up the message log, I read them aloud for Preston without even knowing what they say. “ Why are you avoiding me? Then, he says I know you want to talk to me, or you would’ve blocked me already .”
Preston grunts his agreement with that statement.
“I have a reason,” I assure him. “And it’s not because I want him back.”
Preston arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to give him the explanation.
“Is it wrong that I like seeing him squirm? After months when I could barely get a text response from him after waiting hours, it feels good to have our roles reversed.”
“What does he want, Elle?”
“Ah, well, he says, I’ll just come over if you’re not going to respond to my messages .”
“Asshole can’t take a hint.”
“ I haven’t …” I pause, unable to help reading ahead.
“He hasn’t what?” Preston asks.
“He says he hasn’t been with anyone since he saw me in the arena wearing your jersey.”
“You know he’s lying, right? The prick can’t go an hour without finding someone to inflate his ego a little more.”
Before I can respond, the phone begins buzzing in my hand. Then it keeps buzzing. It’s not incoming text messages, it’s an actual phone call with Christian’s name flashing on the screen.
“I don’t think he’s ever called me before,” I remark in shock.
“May I?” Preston asks.
He wants to answer my phone? That would really tick Christian off. And since I don’t have anything to say to him, I gladly hand it over to the grumpy man.
He answers with, “What do you want?” Preston’s dark eyes hold mine through the long silence before I hear Christian’s voice. It sounds like he asks, “ Who is this? ”
“Who do you think it is, genius?”
“ Preston? You have got to be fucking kidding me .” That response is shouted loud enough for me to hear it clearly.
“Stop bothering Elle. We’re trying to have a nice dinner.”
“ Bullshit !” he grits out.
“See you on the ice tomorrow,” Preston responds before ending the call and offering the phone back to me.
“Thanks. And nice job. Not a single curse word. Well, at least on your part. I could hear what he said since he was shouting. I’m surprised he took time out of his busy schedule of dicking around to actually call me.”
“He obviously misses you and wants you back.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I assure him. “And he can’t want me back when he never had me. Not really.”
Neither of us say much through the rest of dinner. Thankfully, my phone remains silent in my purse.
Preston pays the check and then we walk outside into the mild May night.
“Thank you for a delicious dinner,” I tell him.
“You’re welcome, but I wish you didn’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you can’t wait to get home and be rid of me.”
“That’s not…I didn’t mean it that way. I like hanging out with you, more so when we’re not talking about Christian the whole time. Besides, you have a big game tomorrow. I don’t want to be a distraction.”
“If I promise not to speak of the devil, could we keep hanging out?”
“I don’t know. What did you have in mind?” I ask him curiously.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Preston says while running his fingers over his newly trimmed beard. “We could go back to my hotel room.”
I’m so stunned at his suggestion that it takes me a moment to recover. “I-I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not?” he asks. “Think about how furious Riley would be if he sees a photo of you coming back to my hotel room or hears about it.”
“That’s…he would assume that we…you know.”
“Yes, he would,” Preston quickly responds.
Going back to Preston’s hotel room would be foolish. I know that. But at the same time, it would feel so great to let Christian assume we slept together — a feat that the arrogant bastard was certain would never happen. He was so sure that Preston wouldn’t want a nobody like me.
“Let’s do it!” I blurt out, then immediately slap my palm over my mouth. “I mean, let’s go back to your hotel room.”
“Elle, you know I don’t expect anything, right? That’s not why I asked,” Preston rushes to add.
He just wants to get under Christian’s skin a little before tomorrow’s game. I shouldn’t be hurt that he doesn’t want to have sex with me. It’s ridiculous. I don’t want to have sex with him, either.
Not now, at least.
“Good, because I’m still angry at you for storming into the salon earlier.”
“I don’t blame you for that, either,” he agrees, giving me a half grin. “But seriously, we could just hang out and watch a movie, or do whatever you would do if you were at home.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Lead the way.” I wave my arm in the direction I assume is his hotel, and Preston grabs my hand when it flies past him.
“This way,” he says, pulling me in the other direction.
“Oh.”
His hand is strong and warm, and he doesn’t release mine as we begin the walk across the street.
“So, cupcake, what would you be doing at home tonight if you were all alone?”
I glance up at his face, wondering if he intentionally made that sound dirty or not. And while I have plenty of toys, it’s not like I use them every night I’m without male company.
In fact, I rarely used them while Christian and I were dating. He may have been a huge player, but he knew all the best positions to get me off.
Shaking my head to clear those thoughts, and assuring myself that Preston’s question wasn’t about that sort of thing, I tell him, “Ah, I would usually grab takeout on the way home from the salon. Eat, then have a nice, long bath before throwing on my comfiest pajamas to curl up on the sofa and watch those cooking competition shows. Which is ironic since I can barely boil an egg, but I just like watching others create magic in the kitchen.”
“I’ve watched some of those shows too, but I’m always appalled by how small their pretty little finished dishes are, no more than two or three bites for me. Let’s watch and order dessert from room service.”
“Sounds good to me,” I agree with a smile.