Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
I can barely look David in the eyes when he picks up the kids on Friday. He tries to make polite chit-chat, but I have zero interest in participating.
“Having a bad day?” he dares to ask.
Luckily, my glare is enough to make him back off. Seeing him now, I can’t remember the reasons I fell in love with him.
I know they existed, but they’re dead to me now.
I press a kiss to both Asher’s and Olivia’s cheeks and wave at them as they drive off.
They looked forward to being with him this weekend, I tell myself to keep from bursting into a fit of female rage.
Rather, I grab my to-do list and check if I did everything I needed to do today.
Even though I have a to-do list and calendar set up on my computer (and handled by my PA), I prefer them on paper.
There’s something about crossing off an item with a pen that clicking a computer mouse doesn’t provide.
So each evening, I copy the list from the screen to my little blue planner.
I did quite a lot today. My upcoming date with the Viking mechanic brought me plenty of inspiration for the spicy scenes, and though I’m still stuck on the emotional part, the plot has finally been moving along .
By original plan, the book was supposed to be finished by now. But I was also supposed to be happily married, so I guess I can forgive myself for it. I’m close to finishing the draft, but there will be so much to edit, I don’t think I’ll even feel the success of finishing draft number one.
Finishing the to-do list for tomorrow, I underline ‘date with the Viking’ three times. I feel like a teenage girl writing in her secret journal, but I love it.
I need the excitement of flirting, of falling in love, of feeling another’s weight on top of me. It’s not enough to write and read about it anymore. Pretty soon, I’ll start sounding like AI, robotically describing the actions I have no recollection of.
Next morning, my mood is back to shit. I just got my period. The stress from the car troubles and David’s betrayal are probably the reason it’s early, but it ruins my plans.
I never had sex on the first date before but tonight was supposed to be the night. That was the whole point.
What will I even talk about with the morally gray grump? Are we going to grunt and growl our way through dinner?
I pop two Ibuprofen in my mouth, hoping to prevent the upcoming cramps because the last thing I need tonight to be is a competition in who can out-grump who.
By the evening, I’m fairly certain that the cramps have been successfully prevented.
I’m also certain I shouldn’t be drinking alcohol tonight.
Maybe I shouldn’t be operating heavy machinery, either, judging by the sheer number of pills I had today.
Just the thing to make this sexless, talkless date better. Now it’s also sober!
Fuck, I’m already giving Jaxon a run for his money in grumpiness.
I push my feet into low, open-toed heels and squeeze my bloated belly into black high-waisted jeans. Skinny jeans, of course, I’m too old for the wide-legged shit .
Pasta will do wonders for these pants!
My brain comes up with another sarcastic remark, obviously on a roll. He’s taking me to an Italian restaurant, and though my stomach aches to stuff itself with carby deliciousness, my brain has a need to shit all over my mood.
I should’ve canceled tonight.
But as the sound of the doorbell echoes in my entryway, I realize it’s too late to do that.
Luckily, the sight of the long-haired Alexander Skarsg?rd at my doorstep is enough to snap me out of my funk.
“Hi.” I shoot him a hopefully cute smile.
He dips his head in a greeting.
Oookay. We’re off to a great start.
I spend the drive to the restaurant, which is somewhere on the way from Ocean’s Harbor to Seattle, pumping myself up for this.
I had two horrible dates, but third time’s the charm, right?
He fills the space of the car with his massive presence, his shoulders covered in a leather jacket, although there’s no actual need for it tonight. That’s the only thing he fills, though, because you can hear crickets with the loud silence.
“So,” I attempt a conversation. “Had a lot of work today?”
“Always do.”
“It must be an interesting job.”
“Hummpft.”
There he is.
I embrace the silence rather than trying to push this awkward conversation, and soon, he’s shifting the truck in park. He doesn’t open the door, but he comes around to my side to help me get out of it. The truck is so tall I practically jump into his arms, but he doesn’t even flinch.
The restaurant is a cute place with a large flashing pizza sign and red and white checkered tablecloths. The scent of garlic and herbs invades my nostrils and suddenly, my mood is better. Jaxon greets the host with a serious nod and heads right inside .
The server brings us menus and I feel myself salivating in anticipation of the delicious food.
“Sorry, I’m not much of a talker,” he says. “Your car ok?”
“Yes. It works great. I also feel much safer now that I know everything works properly.”
“Hmmpft. You should really have it checked regularly.”
“Oh, I will.”
“What do you do?” He takes a sip of his scotch after a skittish server brings us the drinks.
“I’m a writer. I write books.”
His eyes widen in awe. “What kind of books?”
Here we go. While I’m massively proud of what I accomplished, people often play it off like a joke because it’s romance.
Like that makes it a childish hobby instead of a serious career.
It used to bother me in the early days, but now I shrug it off.
It’s their own prejudices toward women and things we like that bother them. My success has nothing to do with it.
“Romance.”
Instead of chuckling or checking to see if I’m joking, he nods at me seriously, as if impressed. I don’t need to impress this man that I barely know, but it’s definitely a plus in his column.
My lips pull up into a smile, probably the first real one today. Just as they do, my eye catches on a figure passing near our table.
Logan.
In a dark blue polo, he’s the most put together I have ever seen him. But his eyes don’t scream put together. No, they are narrowed in anger as they focus on my left. What is he looking at?
I bring my gaze to the same side only to discover he’s zeroed in on Jaxon. Do they know each other?
Wanting to interrupt this awkward, silent face-off, I say the first thing that pops into my mind. “Logan.” Great thinking, Einstein.
“Sadie. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Oh, you know. I’m not just trapped in that house you typically see me in. ”
“I guess not.” His gaze lands back on my date. Someone calls him from the corner booth, and he waves back.
“Seems like you’re needed.” I smile. “Have a nice evening.”
“Yeah, you too,” he mumbles before shooting Jaxon another glare and leaving for the corner booth where two guys around his age await him.
This was weird. It was weird, right? It’s probably because I’m not used to seeing him out of his work environment. Also, this weird mood he’s in.
I turn back to Jaxon only to notice his eyebrow raised up.
“Oh, that was Logan.” I let out a nervous giggle. “He’s building me a deck.”
He shoots me a knowing smirk, though I have no idea what it’s about. Our food arrives and the server almost drops Jaxon’s plate, his hands shaking.
It’s a skinny kid in his early twenties, so I shoot him a warm smile, but Jaxon’s glare overpowers it.
“Watch it,” Jaxon says through gritted teeth.
The kid nods profusely before making himself scarce.
I focus on my plate, which is a delicious pasta carbonara, but only a minute after, another server approaches us, tattoos peeking out of his white shirt.
He gives me a polite nod and leans down to whisper something in Jaxon’s ear.
His brows furrow as his jaw locks, and I have a feeling I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to be.
The server leaves, and I pick the food on my plate, trying to calm my nerves. I don’t know what’s going on, but by the hairs standing up on my neck, I’d say nothing good.
Soon, another man approaches our table, a short and chubby older gentleman. “I hope you’re enjoying your meal, Mr. Larsen. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.” He hesitates, so Jaxon intervenes.
“Spit it out.”
He glances at me with apology in his eyes before turning back to Jaxon.
“The shipment. It’s arrived.” His voice is low and tempered .
Jaxon grits his teeth. “Now? It’s supposed to come tomorrow.”
“Yes, now. I’m not sure what happened.”
Rage drips from Jaxon’s expression, and my heart is pounding in my chest. Sandy was right the first time. I’m an idiot for thinking that I could have sex with a fucking gangster.
Maybe I know too much now? Oh God, I’m getting lightheaded.
Jaxon finally looks at me and forces an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about this, Sadie. But looks like I need to leave.”
“Oh, ok.”
“Come, I’ll drive you home.” He gets up, reaching his hand out to me.
“N-no. That’s ok. I’m really enjoying this pasta, so I’d like to finish it.” I force a smile. “I can easily Uber home later.”
“You sure?”
Yes, I’m pretty sure that I’d rather stay here in a public, lighted space than be alone in the car with you, after hearing too much. “Yes.” Another smile crosses my face, and I wonder if I was supposed to pursue acting rather than writing.
He nods in response. “Joe here will take care of you.” He gestures to the older gentleman wearing a creepy smile. What does it mean? Take care of me mafia-style? “I guess I’ll talk to you later.” Please, don’t.
Finally, he leaves, and though I feel a sliver lighter, Joe is still standing there, looking at me.
“Let me know if you need anything. And when you’re ready to leave, let me know. Mr. Larsen will cover your ride home.” He does something akin to a curtsy and leaves the table.
I down my glass of water, trying to calm my heartbeat. A figure appears in front of me, making me spit out some of my water.
“Shit, sorry,” Logan says, handing me a napkin. “Are you ok?”