41. Cole
COLE
Shirley had done what I asked. She’d picked out the sexiest dress atSaksfor Jenny. It was tiny and white, showing off her gorgeous skin and curves.
I fucking hated that dress.
I hated it, and I hated the sparkly shoes that made Jenny’s long, toned legs appear even longer and more toned. She was so pretty that I refused to look at her.
“Cole. Why do you wanna go to dinner, huh?” She’d had the audacity to sound hurt.
I’d told her the truth—we were going to dinner because I was hungry. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and I knew it. We were going to dinner because I wanted to torture her.
Misery loves company.
I’d thought about it all afternoon while I’d tried to work. No one had ever hurt me like Jenny had. I felt like I was mourning our relationship, but she was standing beside me.
I’d let my guard down with Jenny.
I’d let myself get close to her.
And now, I was paying for it.
I’d lost our easy camaraderie and my best friend. I felt like Jenny had pulled the rug out from underneath me, and I was fucking pissed about it. And now I was taking it out on her.
Amari greeted us in the lobby. He took one look at our body language and kept it short and sweet. “Your car’s out front. The driver’s ready to go. Have…” Amari hesitated as if he didn’t know what to say. “A nice dinner,” he finished lamely.
I grunted in response. Jenny nodded.
He awkwardly held the door open for us, and we awkwardly walked through.
After we climbed into the back of the Escalade, Jenny’s coconut-y scent engulfed me. I ignored it. I ignored the fact that she was shivering beside me. I didn’t ask the driver to turn the air conditioning down; I didn’t say a fucking word.
We navigated the waterfront traffic to the Financial District and pulled up in front of the Prudential building. The skyscraper stretched up before us, lights twinkling in the windows.Viva Luxewas located on the top floor. Boston Magazine voted it the most romantic restaurant; it apparently had the best views, ambiance, and drinks.
The driver opened my door. I got out and waited on the sidewalk, but Jenny didn’t follow me. “What’re you doing?” I peered inside.
She sat in the corner with her arms wrapped against her chest, staring up at the moon roof. “Just give me a sec.” She was either studying the darkening night sky or praying; I wasn’t sure which.
After a full minute, Jenny climbed down from the SUV. She let the driver help her; her metallic spiked heels wavered on the Escalade’s running board, but she landed steady on her feet. Jenny wouldn’t look at me. The driver bowed to us and hustled back behind the wheel, speeding away. We had palpably lousy energy. No one wanted to be around us for long.
“Shall we?” I kept my hands in my pockets.
Jenny still had her arms wrapped around herself. She stayed rooted to her spot on the sidewalk.
The bellhop waited at the door, holding it open. He made a point of not looking in our direction.
“Aren’t you coming?” A note of exasperation crept into my voice, even though I knew that wasn’t fair.
“I’m not sure.” She shivered again. “I don’t want to do this.”
“It’s a job, remember?” My voice was cold, cutting. She might not know it, but it was cutting me, too.
“Oh, I remember.” She snorted. “It’s not like I’d be back for any reason other than the money.”
We stared at each other for a beat. Jenny was the first to look away. Then she fluffed her hair, straightened her shoulders, and, without another word, marched past me through the Prudential’s doors.
Another bellhop held the elevator for us, and Jenny sashayed by him and headed directly into the back left-hand corner. I made a beeline for the right. I wanted to be as far apart as possible in the too-small space.
The doors closed, and another icy silence descended over us. Jenny wouldn’t look at me. I wondered if maybe buying her a sexy dress and taking her to a romantic restaurant were two of the dumbest ideas I’d ever had. Not to mention hiring her back.
Who was winning here? It certainly didn’t seem like it was me.
TheViva Luxe hostess greeted us. She smiled, chatting as she brought us to our table by the floor-to-ceiling windows. We stared at her blankly, even though she was friendly and the view was gorgeous. Boston stretched beneath us, its lights twinkling as evening crept over the city. Old Jenny would’ve loved this view—she would’ve beenoohingandaahing. New Jenny was sitting stiffly, careful to keep her distance from me.
“Mr. Bryson? The wine list…?” The hostess was standing there, holding the menu for me.
I snapped back to attention. “We’d like theMarcassinPinot, please. Bring two bottles while you’re at it.”
“And I’d like a rum punch,” Jenny chimed in. “Make that a double. And can I have two, please? Two doubles.”
“Yeah, I’ll have two of those, too. Two doubles,” I added. “And the lady would like a straw.”
The hostess blinked at us, then hurried away.
“Thanks for remembering my straw,” Jenny said. She sounded like a robot.
I shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”
“We gotta drink the rum punches first,” Jenny instructed. “Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.”
“Beer before liquor, never sicker,” I added.
She nodded. “I don’t know if that applies to wine, but I’m not willin’ to find out.”
Our server arrived. He served us our four double rum punches, complete with straws, and then opened both bottles of wine without batting an eye. He silently handed us our menus and then left us to peruse them. I decided that I would tip him generously.
“Mmm, this is good.” Jenny sucked down her first rum punch in a nanosecond. “I needed that.” She started on her second.
“Me too.” I downed my drink in one gulp. It tasted like coconuts and the Caribbean and made me nostalgic for our recent trip to the islands.
We both finished our second drinks just as fast.
Jenny stared at the menu, her brow furrowed. Usually, she would crack a joke about some silly ingredient, but she didn’t say a word.
“I’m getting the sirloin,” I said. The rum was loosening my tongue.
She scrunched her nose up. “With the ‘root vegetable hash?’” she asked. “Why do they have to make it weird? What’s everybody got against a baked potato?”
I resisted the urge to laugh and to relax a little. “I don’t know. What are you going to get? They have grilled pizzas?—”
“They have a grilled pizza with beef tenderloin andmashed potatoon it.” Jenny grimaced. “Excuse you me, but that isdisgusting. I’m just going to have the carpaccio. I had that before at the resort. It was good.” She closed her menu and grabbed a glass of wine, guzzling it.
I followed suit. Maybe if we both got drunk, we’d be okay. I was loathe to let my guard down, but feeling buzzed was better than feeling this . I would pay for it tomorrow, but that was tomorrow’s problem. Not tonight’s.
I had another sip of wine and sat back. I didn’t like to lose control. But since I didn’t seem to be running the show anyway…
Fuck it.