CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sawyer’s head was in a fog as he and Angela went through the motions. In the elevator and out. He scanned the lobby and assessed potential threats. She’d asked about their rental car. He’d said they could walk.
Outside, hand in hand, they walked down the street. But Sawyer remained underwater even as he scoped out possible danger. He tried to focus on work and volleyed the idea of sharing what Parker might have learned about Mylene Hathaway. He even thought about why he didn’t want to be in a relationship—but cut those thoughts off quickly. That wasn’t where his head needed to be while he walked Angela into a Michelin-star restaurant.
“Reservation?” the hostess asked.
He told the hostess the pseudonym and caught Angela’s wide eye of approval. The sight was almost enough to clear Sawyer’s head.
They were seated at a secluded table. Ensconced candlelight danced across distressed brick walls. He noted details like an analyst would write a report: white tablecloths, crystal glasses, and waitstaff who disappeared until needed.
She ignored the menu. “Sawyer.”
His eyebrows rose. He couldn’t shake the robotic stiffness that had him in a chokehold.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Lying to her wasn’t an option. Neither was telling her what had set him off—mostly because he couldn’t explain why. They had a time-boxed relationship. He didn’t want it to end, but he knew he couldn’t continue outside the parameters they’d set. He couldn’t even explain why.
Funny how he could jump out of planes and climb through destroyed buildings while bombers flew overhead, yet he was physically incapable of opening up.
“We should leave.” She folded her napkin on top of her menu.
He balked. “I don’t want to leave.” Hell, he had committed every second to memory not even an hour ago. Now, he wondered when this feeling would vanish. “Why do you want to leave?”
“Because you’re a zombie.” She analyzed him. “What happened?”
Her anger did a poor job of hiding the hurt in her voice, and he hated himself. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head and glanced around as if the walls might hold a script. “I—” Would he tell her about his past? He wasn’t sure that was a good idea, even if he could.
The waitress appeared. “Good evening. Would you like flat or sparkling water?”
“Could you give us a minute?” Angela asked.
“Of course.” The woman backed away and melted into the shadows.
“Look, Ange… I haven’t shared everything with you.”
Her eyebrows arched.
“And I can’t,” he added, trying to do right by her and his past. “But you need to know that despite this—us—this crazy idea that you need to practice, or however you put it...” He needed to be completely up front with her. She was worth it. “I haven’t been pretending a single damn time.”
Her eyes widened.
“Everything I’ve said. Every kiss and touch. Every single fuckin’ moment with you has been as real as it gets.” He swallowed hard. “And I hate that I can’t be the guy that gets you forever.”
An eternity passed.
The waitress returned with the same question.
“Flat,” Angela answered without emotion, “if that’s all right with you.”
Sawyer didn’t give a single fuck about the water. “Sure.”
The water was poured, and the menu was explained. Sawyer watched Angela, only half hearing the details of the dinner options.
When they were alone again, he offered her a way out. “I ruined the night. We should leave.”
Angela chewed her bottom lip.
“You probably have questions,” he said. “And I can’t answer them. Not now. Later…” He hated how screwed up he was. “Maybe, but I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her sad, dark eyes. “And I don’t want to leave.”
“You’re sure?”
“Fancy dress and amazing restaurant.” She was trying to act like he hadn’t dropped a bomb, but Sawyer knew her too well. “I’d be crazy to leave.”
“Angela—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand. “I created this problem between us, and I can fix it.”
Their waitress arrived again, but it wasn’t hard to read their table. She backed away with a promise to give them more time.
“Everything I’ve said and done has been real, too,” Angela admitted. “But I’m not deaf. I heard you and knew this was temporary. If I didn’t absolutely know that, then I would fall in love with you. So I get it.”
The wave of cold water hit Sawyer again. He couldn’t breathe.
Her brow furrowed. “You can’t be mad at me for how either of us would feel if things were different.”
“I’m not mad.” At least, not at anyone but himself.
“We’re friends. We’re going back to the real world soon enough. Everything between us has to return to how it was before, because if not, if I lose any part of what I had with you, it will kill me.”
Disorientation skewed his vision. Burning confusion rang in his ears. Her declaration was exactly what he needed to hear and what he should’ve known was coming, and yet, all Sawyer could think was how in love he was with Angela.
There was no falling to do. It was done. If only he could put his hands on her. If he could remind himself that they could have a physical relationship separate from their partnership, he could be able to make sense of his world.
“Please.” Desperation in her eyes matched the whisper in her plea. “Tell me you understand.” Angela rolled her lips together. “That we’re okay?”
Words wouldn’t convey what he needed to explain. There were so many other forms of communication he required that were unavailable to him at a restaurant. He needed more than to hold her close and make promises. He needed to be with her, in her , promising more than he had the capacity to say.
The waitress interrupted with an expectant, time-is-ticking expression. “Might I suggest the tasting menu?”
Sawyer wanted to send her away.
Angela tore her glance from his and nodded. “That sounds lovely.”
“Sure,” he agreed. After the waitress had asked about wine pairings and left, Sawyer stood. “Can you please come with me?”
“We’re leaving?”
“No.” He nodded his head out of the dining room. “Come on.”
She clutched his extended hand. It took a mere moment to find a quiet place in a dimly lit hallway catty-corner from the hall for the bathrooms.
“What are we doing, Sawyer?”
He backed into the corner and, with his hands on her hips, possessively pulled her close. “I fucked up your night.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, and he didn’t know if that was a prelude to tears, a threat of anger, or him overreading the moment.
“And I need my hands on you when I apologize.” He squeezed her waist. “I’m the idiot. I fucked up. I need you to forgive me.”
She smiled, and this time, it reached her eyes. “Only because you’re good in bed.”
He laughed. Relief flooded his soul. She wasn’t upset if she could make jokes.
Her head tipped back. “I’m going to need you to kiss me.”
Slowly, a smile curled onto his lips. “And I’ll be forgiven?”
“I don’t know. You haven’t kissed me yet.”
Sawyer nipped on her bottom lip. An instantaneous fire lit between them. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and he held her tight. The kiss promised everything would be as it was earlier in the night. The possibility thrilled him, but he didn’t know what Angela would think. “What’s the verdict?”
Her arms wrapped around his neck. “You definitely have a way with me.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “And we’re going to have a great night.”