Chapter 23 #2
Of course, James would guess I’d suggest a place I’d already reviewed and loved.
“Uh, yeah.” I gave the hostess an awkward smile. “That’s me.”
“He asked for a table in the back.”
James sat next to my favorite window that looked out on a small garden with a patio in the back.
Lounging in his chair, an ankle propped on his opposite knee, and The Wall Street Journal unfurled in his hands.
Gone were the linen shorts and button-up shirts I’d grown used to seeing him in over the weekend.
In their place was his usual uniform of a perfectly tailored suit, shined shoes, and a tie that no doubt matched some subtle hue in his pocket square.
His signet ring caught the light as he turned a page, and just like that, it was as if his armor had slid right back into place.
“I believe this is your table.” The waiter gave me a wide smile before she left the two of us alone.
James dropped the paper, a subtle smile playing on his lips as his eyes twinkled with mischief.
Those eyes, dark and intense, slowly scanned me, lingering on every detail.
Everywhere he looked, I could feel the ghost of his fingers trailing over my body.
We’d done this once before—met outside the parameters of our arrangement. And now we’d crossed that line again. No longer were we toeing it, dancing back and forth. We had dived headfirst into the unknown. Drenched ourselves in the ambiguity of it.
James stood once he realized I hadn’t made a move to join him.
“How was work?” He leaned down. His lips brushing against my cheek as he slipped my work bag from my shoulder and slung it over one side of my chair.
“Anthea liked the article. I think she even laughed.” James wrapped both of his hands around my upper arms. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her laugh before.
Not a genuine laugh. Her fake laugh is this airy, haughty sound that she uses to pretend she’s entertained by someone. But she gave me a real laugh today.”
“I read the article,” James said as amusement danced across his face. “It was good. I especially liked the part where you described Mr. Old Fashioned as a ‘wet dream straight out of a romance novel’ when you first laid eyes on him behind the wheel of the sailboat.”
Heat flared across my cheeks as James gave me a knowing smile.
“Do you want to take a seat?”
I glanced at the chair across from where James had been sitting. It could be so easy to slip into that seat and have lunch with him. It wouldn’t be any different from what we’d been doing over the past couple of months. But this was different.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Yet we were skirting around it just the same.
With every minute I spent with James, I wanted more. More of his smiles. More of his witty remarks. More of his playful bars. More of him. Maybe it was time that I made that known.
Once I’d gotten to know the real James behind the finance bro bravado, I was na?ve to think that spending time with James would lead to anything other than this very moment.
To think I could ever avoid developing feelings for him was almost laughable.
It was time that I stopped avoiding reality and stopped ignoring the feelings that had taken root inside of me.
“I enjoy spending time with you.”
James’s eyebrows shot up, but he smiled. “And I enjoy spending time with you.”
The heat that had started in my cheeks shot straight down to my stomach as his words settled in, lighting the blood in my veins on fire.
“So, we can spend time right now together,” James drew out. “Over lunch.”
“And what about when we complete our fifth date in a couple of weeks?” I asked, my feet still unable to take me toward the awaiting chair. “Will we still spend time together, then?”
Nerves twisted in my stomach, the same ones that usually kept me second-guessing myself.
But the conversation I’d just had with Anthea—her swooning over my words, over my Mr. Old Fashioned—had stirred something inside me.
A flicker of belief that maybe I was allowed to ask for what I wanted, even if my voice trembled while doing it.
Understanding dawned on James’s face as he realized the reason for my current hesitation. His hands slid down my arms to slip into mine. Despite the chaos of the restaurant surrounding us, the two of us stood holding hands and all but careened toward a point of no return.
James’s voice was a rumble that started low in his chest as he squeezed my hands. “I want to spend as much time with you as you’ll let me, Hal.”
The rest of the air in my lungs slipped out from between my lips as I let each of his words sink in, filling me with their own life.
“I swore off dating after Cassidy used me. She got everything she wanted and more, yet I still hadn’t been enough for her.
But when I look back on that time, I realize she had never made me feel like I wasn’t a prize to be won.
I had never understood what it felt like for someone to really see me and still want me.
That was until you.” James’s eyes were nearly molten as he laid himself bare for me.
“So yes, Hal. I want to spend time with you. This may have started with you and me on opposite sides. But I want it to end with us as a team.”
I let out a small gasp, needing to fill my lungs with more of the very words that James was saying to me. Wanting to drench myself in the way they made me feel.
Light.
Airy.
Worthy.
“So will you sit down with me and have lunch now, Hal?” James asked, that same amusement from before returning to his face.
Then he leaned in and whispered in my ear something that set my entire body on fire.
“Or do I need to clear the building so we can show each other how much we care with actions rather than words?”
“Lunch sounds perfect.” The words came out on a squeak.
We sat down as if everything were completely normal and we hadn’t just admitted our feelings for each other in the middle of one of my favorite bistros.
A waiter came by shortly after to take our orders.
James folded his copy of The Wall Street Journal .
Every movement he made was confident. It was one of the things that I liked best about him, that unwavering self-assurance. Maybe it was rubbing off on me.
“I was thinking about our next date,” James said, picking up the carafe of water from the middle of the table. He filled my glass first, then his own. “Something a little different this time. More low-key. Cozy. Less white tablecloth, more paper napkins.”
I tilted my head, intrigued. “So … messy in a charming way?”
He grinned. “Exactly. Still finalizing the details, but I promise it’ll be fun.”
I nodded, trying to play it cool even as my pulse picked up.
Low-key, unforgettable, upside down—I didn’t really care what the night looked like. As long as he was there, I’d show up.