Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
A urora
The light turns green, and I press on the accelerator so slowly that the car behind me honks.
I flip my visor down and squint into the low-hanging sun. The warmth feels good on my face and casts a positive glow around me. Too bad it doesn’t work to rid me of the negative thoughts rolling through my mind.
Mostly … guilt.
I press my lips together as I make a right-hand turn.
I don’t owe Tate anything, and I’ve also been clear about not wanting anything. But that’s the problem. I’m not certain that’s wholly true anymore.
“You mean, aren’t you more trouble than you’re worth?”
My palm smacks against the steering wheel.
How can he see right through me? And how much longer can I pretend he doesn’t have a key that unlocks the box where I hold my deepest fears—a key he seems to want to use?
He’s wrinkled my plans and made me question everything I thought was true. It’s uncomfortable. It’s concerning. But it’s also impossible not to acknowledge the effort he’s putting forward.
“Why won’t you give me a chance, Aurora?”
I pilot the car into Caesar’s parking lot and find a spot near the door.
A lump settles in my throat. “I don’t know Tate. I don’t fucking know anymore.”
Isn’t he objectively everything I’ve dreamed of in a man? He’s emotionally intelligent and kind. Patient. Respectful. He sees me and makes me feel like I matter. And, my God, can he make me come.
“What’s really happening here?” I ask, turning off the car. “Why the hell am I going on this pseudo-date when everything I want is a phone call away?”
The answer trickles into my mind like a dark cloud.
Because I don’t know how to handle him.
The realization makes my stomach woozy. My palms sweat. That single sentence cuts through the fog in my brain like a knife.
I don’t know what to do with Tate. It’s really that simple. What happens when the answer to your prayers, the embodiment of your dreams, actually materializes? How does that work?
Worse, what if it doesn’t work? What if everything you thought you wanted turns out to be wrong, and then you’re left with nothing, not even a dream?
I grab my purse off the passenger’s seat, but I can’t stop the thoughts from coming at me like a freight train.
I know what to do with men who talk a good game but don’t walk it. I can handle men who say what I want to hear when I’m facing them but talk out of the other side of their mouth when I turn away. And I know what happens when a man love bombs you but is missing once the dust settles.
My breaths are shaky. “He’s flipped the script. It’s no longer that I’m afraid of making the wrong decision. I’m actually afraid of making the right one.”
A smile ghosts my lips as I get out of the car and head into the restaurant. I deliberately place one foot in front of the other, so I don’t hop back into the car and flee the scene of what I’m fairly certain is going to be a crime.
The restaurant isn’t busy, which is no surprise at this hour in the middle of the week. I’ve never felt so old in my damn life.
“Table for one?” A pretty blonde with a name tag reading Morgan approaches the hostess stand from the dining area.
I scan the room for Curtis. “No, actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here. Do you happen to know if there’s a man waiting on a woman?”
“There’s not. We only have three tables right now—two couples and a regular patron who always dines alone.” She grabs two menus from a stack. “I could go ahead and seat you, if you’d like. Or you’re welcome to wait out here. It’s totally up to you.”
I’m not sure what to do, but sitting alone feels slightly less awkward than standing near the door.
“A table would be great,” I say.
Morgan lets me choose where to sit, and I select a booth in the corner. Something about having my back to a wall is comforting. She takes my drink order and leaves me with the menus.
I blow out a breath, surveying my surroundings. The place is nice and clean. The handful of other patrons seem to be comfortable and happy with their food. It’s the kind of place that Kent would’ve taken me during our marriage. I’m not quite sure how to process that.
“Well, hello,” Curtis says, materializing out of thin air. He slides in the booth across from me. “You must’ve been right on time.”
“I was about five minutes early.”
“I’m always fashionably late. It keeps people on their toes,” he says, chuckling at himself.
Morgan appears with my glass of water. Her brow is furrowed, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking.
Curtis is slathered in a bottle of men’s cologne. His freshly cut hair is slicked back in a style that’s very unbecoming of him. He’s not a bad-looking man, but he’s not doing himself any favors with the attempted mustache.
“Hello to you,” he says to Morgan.
She stands next to me. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Do you have a vino menu?” he asks.
Oh good God . I rub my forehead.
“Excuse me?” she asks, rightly confused.
“Wine,” I say, dropping my hand to my side. “He’s asking for a wine menu.”
“No. We don’t have one of those. We do have a chardonnay and a pinot grigio, if you’re interested.”
Curtis looks at me like he’s surprised. “I guess we’re drinking cheap tonight.” He then looks at Morgan. “I’ll have a glass of the chardonnay, and a glass of water with lemon. Two slices, if you can.”
“Sure.” She casts me a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be back for your order in just a minute.”
“Take your time,” Curtis says, picking up a menu. “We’re in no rush.”
My eyes meet Morgan’s in a silent plea not to do that. She gives me a slight nod and hightails it to the kitchen.
I pick up a menu, too, and try to shake my discomfort. I’m already here, and I agreed to this. Make the best of it, Ror.
“So what did you do today?” I ask.
“I had one hell of a day. My ex-wife called. We’ve been divorced for five years, and she still calls me to come over and fix the air conditioner. I should tell the bitch no, but I don’t. You’d think she’d figure out how to use a thermostat by now.” He sighs haughtily. “But, like they say, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
I don’t know his ex-wife, but I instinctively feel the need to defend her.
“Growing up, we had a thermostat that never worked right,” I say. “My mother could never get it to kick on. My father always had to do it. It was a joke around the house. It only liked Dad.”
“Electronic things typically prefer men.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my eyes widening.
“It’s not women’s fault. I think it’s something in their body chemistry that does it.”
I set my menu down, my blood heating. “You know, Curtis, I’m picking up a chauvinistic vibe here, and I should point out before we get too far into this that I’m not the one.”
“Here is your chardonnay and your water with two slices of lemon,” Morgan says, placing the drinks on the edge of the table. “Would you like to start with an appetizer or jump right into your entrées?”
“Double cheeseburger for me,” Curtis says. “Fries are fine on the side.”
He hands her his menu.
I haven’t even perused mine. But the thought of eating anything right now makes me ill. And I just want to get the hell out of here.
“Same for me,” I say, forking over my menu, too. “Thank you, Morgan.”
“You’re welcome.”
She’s not two steps away before Curtis lets loose on a tangent about classic cars. Out of nowhere, and with no attempt at finding a topic that I know anything about or have any interest in, for that matter, he goes off about torque. Pistons. Crank shafts, which I gather is not what it sounds like.
I nod here and there, but there’s no input needed from me. This is a one-person conversation. I’m just here as a spectator.
I shouldn’t be here. I’m not sure what I was thinking agreeing to this farce.
As he chatters away, my thoughts drift to Tate.
“And to think that my goal has been trying to run into you all day. This doesn’t bother you, does it? Me being in your office? Because, if it does, I’ll go.”
My heart tugs in my chest.
I’ve been unfair to him. I’ve been unfair to myself .
Somewhere along the line, I’ve allowed the monologue in my head to skew to the negative. Instead of looking at a situation and seeing the positive— what happens if this is the best thing to ever happen to me? —my mind always goes to the dark side— what happens if I screw this up and ruin everything? I don’t feel hopeful; I’m fearful. I don’t imagine the joy that could come out of something. I go immediately to the potential pain and heartbreak or judge myself preemptively.
I look up at Curtis. His lips are still moving. I watch him jabber on, having muted him in my head, and ask myself what I’m getting out of this. The answer: nothing. So why was I so willing to take this risk when I could’ve taken a much safer gamble and had dinner with Tate?
I need to talk to him.
Adrenaline fires through me, and my eyes dart around for an escape plan. Just as my hand locks around my phone, Morgan appears with our plates. Curtis finally stops jabbering long enough for me to catch my breath.
“Your burgers are here,” she says, setting our plates in front of us. “Do you need anything else? Ketchup? Refills?”
Earplugs.
“I’ll take another chardonnay,” Curtis says.
“Could you bring the check whenever you have time?” I ask. “Just to save you the trouble later.”
She nods knowingly. “I’ll grab that for you. And the chardonnay.”
“Ah, dammit,” Curtis says, pulling his phone from his shirt pocket. “This is Cathy.” He glances up at me. “The ex-wife. Mind if I take this?”
God bless Cathy.
“Be my guest,” I say, scooting to the edge of the booth. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”
I’m not sure he even hears me.
“I told you I was on a date,” he says, smirking. “What do you want?”
A lobotomy if she’s still calling you.
I speed walk to the restroom, desperate to be alone. I don’t have Tate’s number and I’m not sure how to get it. Would Tally have it, by any chance?
My hand wraps around the door handle, and I twist and push.
As I take a step inside the small room, a palm splays against the small of my back and ushers me inside.
I gasp, swinging around like a madwoman, ready to brawl. But I don’t even get turned all the way before I’m hauled into a wide, strong body, and a mouth that I’m very familiar with comes crashing down onto mine.
Tate yanks me to him, carrying us both into the restroom and locking the door behind us.
My brain misfires. It’s unable to compute a thought. Instead, my body takes over and I melt into the man I’ve been thinking about all day.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my head spinning.
He smirks. “Checking out my competition.”
“You really do have stalker tendencies.”
He chuckles, pressing another long, leisurely kiss against my lips.
“Maybe,” he whispers, cupping my face with his hands. “But I had to know for sure.”
“You had to know what?”
His hands slide to the small of my back. “I had to know if I’m crazy to think that we belong together.”
My knees wobble, but I’m not in fear of falling. He’s holding onto me as if his life depends on it.
I grin at him. “Did you come up with any conclusions?”
“A few.”
“Like what?” I ask, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“You look miserable out there.”
I laugh, my chest bouncing against his. “Is it that obvious?”
“I think the fuckhead you’re having dinner with is the only one who’s oblivious to it.”
“Fuckhead?” I laugh. “You don’t even know him.”
He stares at me. “I’d want to fight him for being with my girl if he wasn’t so pathetic.”
Fire spreads through me, pooling in my core. The heat in his eyes does nothing to squash it, either.
“Your girl, huh?” I ask, grinning.
“When are you going to stop this and just admit it?”
I hesitate, giving myself a moment to change my mind. This is against the rules I set up for myself months ago. But am I even the same woman I was then?
Tate slides his hands beneath my dress and palms my ass cheeks.
I’m definitely not her.
“When am I going to admit it?” I ask, smiling smugly at him. “Right. About. Now.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
I lift onto my toes, and he meets me in the middle. His tongue sweeps past my lips like it owns them.
I moan, sagging into him, afraid of what’ll happen when he stops.
“God, I missed this,” he says, pressing kisses along my jaw and down into the crook of my neck.
“You have no idea.” I palm his cock through his pants. He flexes against my hand, emitting a growl that needles my libido. “Or, maybe you do.”
His hands travel around the curves of my hips, around my waist, and then slide back to the globes of my ass again. His touch erases all sense from my brain. He now controls my body. I’m officially his, and it’s pointless to say otherwise.
“This ass is unbelievable,” he says, kissing me again.
My nails dig into his back. “I was coming in here to call you.”
“Liar.”
“I mean it,” I say, bending my head to give him access to my neck. With every lick, kiss, and suck, a band inside me is stretched thinner.
“What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask you to meet me.”
He balls my dress at my waist. “For what?”
He pulls back and looks me in the eye. The intensity makes me shiver.
“I was going to tell you I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“For not being honest.”
His eyes narrow. “Have you been lying to me?”
I push forward, grazing his groin with my body. His jaw pulses, but he doesn’t look away.
“Every time I’ve said I’m not already yours was a lie,” I say.
He lifts me off my feet and sets me on the counter in one fluid motion. His lips find mine. Gone are the kisses born from a need to get off. These are different. These are conversation.
My lip is pulled between his teeth, and the friction makes me moan. His hand slips between my thighs.
I spread my legs for him. The back of my head rests against the mirror behind me.
“Let’s see if you’re wet,” he whispers against my mouth.
“If you touch me, you better be ready to make me come.”
He laughs, nipping my lip again. “I’ve missed this little pussy.”
“Now’s a perfect time to get reacquainted.”
“Fuck, Aurora,” he hisses, sliding a finger through my soaked flesh.
I pull his face back to mine and grind myself against his hand. His knuckle bumps my swollen clit, and I moan into Tate’s mouth.
“This is all for me,” he says, inserting one finger deep inside me.
I close my eyes, absorbing the sweet fire shooting through me.
This is the woman I want to be—beautiful, safe, and respected, but on the verge of being ravaged at any moment.
“I’m going to make you come on my hand,” he whispers in my ear. “And you aren’t going to yell.”
I whimper as he adds a second, then a third finger.
“If you yell, I stop,” he warns.
“ Don’t stop .”
“Be good and give me all of your pleasure,” he says against the shell of my ear. “Show me that this is mine.”
“Is there any way it’s not? Fuck .” I hold his shoulders as I begin to shake. I’m desperate to finish. “I’m so close.”
“Don’t. Scream.”
He presses on my clit as he strokes the spot inside me that makes it impossible to hold on any longer. The onslaught is quick and fierce, akin to lava pouring through my veins.
“Ah!” I start to yell, but Tate clamps a hand over my mouth.
He stares into my eyes, wickedly amused, as I grind out my orgasm on his hand.
Tears dot the corners of my eyes from the intensity of the moment.
“Shh,” he whispers, pulling his hand away and replacing it with his mouth.
Slowly, he guides me back to the real world as the final waves of my climax ripple through me. Tate’s kisses turn gentle. His touches turn softer. There’s a tenderness to him that is more intoxicating than the passion from moments ago.
“There you go,” he says, slipping his fingers out of me. “How was that?”
I try to answer him, but the words are jumbled. I lean against the mirror with my eyes closed.
He chuckles and turns on the tap beside me. I hear the paper towel dispenser activating. Then the tap turns off.
“Spread your legs again for me, gorgeous.”
He tenderly runs the damp towels between my legs, cleaning up the mess he just made. There’s something so intimate, so sweet about the moment that I find it hard to breathe.
“Hop down for me,” he says, helping me to my feet.
“Now what?” I ask, wondering what happens at this point. Do we walk out together? Do I tell Curtis that I had an emergency? I have no idea. “This is unchartered territory for me.”
“What happens now?” He smiles sinfully. “Now you go back out there and think about how hard you just came while you have your burger with that dipshit.”
I gasp. “You expect me to go out there and finish dinner?”
“Hey, you’re the one who thought this was a great idea.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m on a date with someone else.”
“Make no mistake—I hate it.” He lifts a brow. “But your body and I seem to have a good rapport. I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Me? You’re the one who just got off in a public bathroom while on a date with someone else.”
“Don’t try to shame me!”
He laughs, pulling me into his chest once again. It’s my new favorite place to be. “Shame you? For what? Doing what you should’ve been doing all along?” He kisses me sweetly. “Let this dinner remind you that no one can take care of you like I can.”
I already know.
Tate yanks the door open and pats me on the ass. “Have fun at dinner.” Then he strolls out casually, leaving me alone.
That fucker.
I straighten my dress and fix my hair, taking in my reflection in the mirror. Rosy cheeks. Glassy eyes. Swollen lips. There’s no fixing this.
A few more people are in the dining area as I make my way back to Curtis.
“Sorry about that,” I say, taking my seat.
I glance down at the table, and his plate is empty.
“Was I gone that long?” I ask, my cheeks heating.
“Nah, I’m a fast eater. And Cathy needs me to come by and check her pipes.”
Cathy, you’re a lifesaver.
“Don’t let me keep you,” I say a little too happily. “Clogged pipes can be a disaster.”
“It’s always something with that woman.”
He looks away, but I can see the corner of his dimples shine in his cheeks.
“Curtis?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“It might not be about the thermostat or the clogged pipes, you know.”
The semi-scowl on his face all evening begins to fade.
“Maybe listen to her a little bit,” I say gently. “She wouldn’t be calling you if she didn’t still love you.”
His eyes brighten almost immediately. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
He scoots to the edge of the booth. “I’ve already paid the bill, so as soon as you’re done …”
I consider mentioning that he shouldn’t be a chauvinist pig, but decide I’ve fought enough battles for one day.
My phone lights up with a text from a number I don’t recognize. My heart skips a beat.
Unknown: By the way, you look beautiful tonight.
I laugh, certain my eyes are brighter now, too.
“Come to think of it, I’m not that hungry,” I say, reaching for my purse.
“Really?”
I nod. “Really.”
Curtis and I walk out side by side.Suddenly, in the strangest way, I’m grateful to him.
The world works in mysterious ways.