Chapter 4
As I step into the dimly lit steakhouse alongside Todd, I can't help but wonder how on earth I ended up here. Just a few days ago, when I bumped into him unexpectedly, I convinced myself that whatever silly crush I had harbored for him was a thing of the past. Clearly, I was mistaken. Watching him effortlessly charm the socks off Great Aunt Matilda stirred something deep within me. Suddenly, the emotions I believed to be long-extinguished surged back with an intensity that took me by surprise. And, strangely enough, I'm not entirely sure that's a bad thing. Damn. I must be a glutton for punishment. I barely survived losing Todd Sharp a decade ago, and now my silly heart is ready for round two.
"This place hasn't changed a damn bit," Todd says as we wait for the hostess to greet and seat us.
The Broadway Steakhouse hasn’t changed at all. It remains a shrine to Texas fancy, where cattle barons meet oil magnates over seventy-dollar steaks. The warm, cozy interior exudes elegance with its dark wood booths and tables, complemented by chairs crafted from the finest materials. The walls are adorned with expensive artwork, adding a touch of sophistication to the ambiance.
I glance out the corner of my eye at Todd, drinking him in. He’s taller and more imposing than he was ten years ago, like someone hit the turbo boost on his whole existence. Dark hair, those piercing blue eyes, and a jawline that looks like it could cut glass. Same old Todd, except he’s more intense, more handsome, and more determined. I take a breath and pretend I’m not at all lightheaded.
"Party of two," he tells the hostess. "Somewhere private."
The hostess gets right on my nerves. She gives Todd a smile that looks like she wants to bottle him up and sell him on eBay. "I think we can find a spot," she says, leading us to a booth with a perfect view of the entire restaurant. I don't miss the sideways glances as we walk. The grapevine will be buzzing soon.
I slide into the booth and attempt a casual air, but I fail miserably. Todd sits across from me, entirely at ease with the attention we’re getting.
I fidget with my napkin, focusing on not tearing a hole in the expensive, white cloth. The past barrels into the present, and I'm reliving that summer when everything felt perfect and then impossibly broken. His eyes crinkle when he smiles at me, and those damn dimples cause my stomach to do summersaults. Some things never change.
The server approaches, and I can't believe my luck. It's Betty, who's been here since the dawn of time and remembers the eighties like it was yesterday. Her eyes light up when she sees us.
"Well, I'll be! If it isn't Maggie Carrington and Todd Sharp! What brings y'all in here after all these years?" Her words echo around the quiet restaurant, drawing everyone’s attention.
Todd laughs, the sound easy and natural, making me itch with irritation and something else I don't want to name. "Just having lunch," he says. His eyes flicker to me, and the room feels about ten degrees hotter.
"I’m glad you guys came by," Betty says.
She takes out her old-fashion pad for our order and I already know what Todd's going to order. "Biggest porterhouse you got. Rare," he doesn’t disappoint. "And a loaded baked potato."
"Got it. And what about you, Maggie? The usual?"
Her words send me spiraling back to the summer I didn't know was about to become ‘The Summer’, where everything seemed possible. "No," I say, my voice not entirely steady. "I’ll have what Todd’s having."
"Coming right up," Betty calls as she breezes away.
I try to focus on the steak knife, on anything but the man sitting across from me. Oh, man. I’m so screwed. My dumb heart isn’t even attempting to resist him.
Todd nods, those blue eyes too damn intense. "Everything okay?"
"Great," I shoot back, not sure what else to say. His eyes crinkle again, and I wish my stomach would stop doing flips.
“Don’t worry, baby.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “I’ll go easy on you.”
The comment catches me off guard, and I fumble with my napkin again. He's so calm, so damn sure of himself. It's infuriating and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Betty arrives with our drinks and a basket of warm bread. "Here you are. Your steaks will be ready shortly." She hurries off with another wink.
As soon as she's gone, I try to get my bearings, which isn't easy with Todd looking at me like he wants to eat me for lunch. My mind is a minefield of old hopes and new fears, confusing the hell out of me.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "You don’t have to go easy on me. I can handle anything you dish out," I say with way more confidence than I feel.
"I know you can," he replies, and the heated expression on his face warms me from the inside out. “You’re my tough little cowgirl.” The old nickname turns my insides to goo.
He leans forward, all easy confidence and unshakable presence.
"Have you been following the Riptide?" Todd changes the subject with ease while I try to wake up my sluggish mind.
I swallow, pulling myself together. "Only when they're losing."
He chuckles, and the sound is deeper, richer than I remember. It tugs at something I've been trying to bury for a long time. "Not much then," he says, flashing those dimples again.
“Touché,” I snort, rolling my eyes.
The air crackles with everything we're not saying, and I'm struggling to breathe through it all. I should have seen it coming. I thought I could handle a simple lunch, a quick catch-up, and then get back to my neatly guarded life. Nope. Not happening.
I'm at a loss; my carefully crafted defenses are crumbling. I reach for the bread at the same time he does, and our hands touch. It’s the tiniest brush, but there’s that same old spark, jolting through me like a live wire. My pulse skyrockets and my instincts scream at me to grab my purse and bolt. I pull my hand back instead, pretending I was going for the butter.
He lets out a breath that sounds almost like relief. "Tell me about your job."
I'm not ready for that question or for the genuine interest behind it. "It’s great." I curse the brevity of my response and scramble to sound more put together. "I used our charitable foundation to start a literacy program for low-income families. There’s always a lot to be done."
"I'm proud of you," he says, and his words envelop me, creating a warm feeling in my stomach.
I nod, uncomfortable with how easily he can get under my skin. "Not exactly San Francisco Riptide level, but I'm working on it."
"You don’t give yourself enough credit," he says, and I have to look away before my heart catches fire. “You never did realize how much power you hold.”
Help. The protective shell guarding my heart is shattering, and there isn’t anything I can do to stop it.
He watches me intently, his eyes probing as if he's deciphering all the silent confessions I'm withholding. His gaze briefly drops to the table, tracing invisible patterns on its surface before meeting mine once more as I inquire, "Why’d you come back?"
“Because I couldn’t stay away any longer.” His words hang in the air, charged with unspoken emotions. What does he mean by that?
I part my lips to respond, but the words elude me, caught somewhere between thought and speech. What am I supposed to say? After a moment of hesitation, I finally manage, "Missed your family?"
His eyes, now deepening like a gathering storm, lock onto mine with a fervor that leaves no room for misinterpretation. “I missed the center of my universe,” he declares with unwavering resolve. “And I’m determined to get her back.”
The weight of his declaration hits me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless and at a crossroads.
In that instant, the weight of a monumental choice settles on my shoulders. I realize I must decide whether to play it safe, keeping my emotions guarded, or reach for something extraordinary, risking it all for a chance at love.
"I'm not going anywhere, Maggie." The promise hangs between us, so solid I could reach out and touch it. “This time I’m not going to let you go.”
“We’ll see.” My heart urges me to believe every word, while my brain insists I proceed with caution.
I blink when he reaches across the table, and his thumb grazes the corner of my mouth. "Missed a spot," he says, his touch lingering just long enough to start a bonfire in my chest.
Our eyes lock, and I swear I feel the world tremble under my feet. I fight back the fear, knowing I want him and can’t fight it anymore.