Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Bella
I felt beautiful. Not just dressed up or put together, actually beautiful.
I’d taken more time getting ready than I wanted to admit, which was ridiculous considering Simon only asked me to have dinner with him.
I called it a date. He insisted it was only dinner.
But saying I was shocked when he asked me was an understatement.
After everything that happened between us since he came home, I hadn’t expected it.
We argued more times than I could count.
He judged my life choices, and I called him an asshole.
But somewhere in the middle of all that, things started to change.
I was incredibly attracted to him, bad attitude and all. But I knew somewhere deep inside him, a gentle, loving man was hiding. I’d felt the shift between us today when I was in his office. It was a subtle shift, but noticeable. I hadn’t felt anything for anyone since Grady, until now.
We climbed into the back of his car. I sat in the soft leather seat and crossed my legs while Simon sat beside me, his masculine cologne heightening my senses. I glanced over at him as he was looking at his phone.
“You’re not going to work all the way to dinner, are you?” I asked.
“I’m not working.” He glanced at me.
“You’re staring at your phone.”
“I was checking an email.”
“A work email?” My brow arched.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re working,” I said.
He locked the screen and slipped his phone inside the pocket of his jacket.
“Happy now?” A smirk crossed his lips.
“Very.” I smiled.
“You’re a demanding woman, Bella Castle.”
I laughed. “You have a ten-rule list hanging in your kitchen, and I’m demanding?”
“Fair enough.” He smiled.
“So, tell me about this restaurant you’re taking me to.”
“No.”
“What? Why?” My brows furrowed.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“That is untrue.” He stared at me. “You drove around the country in an RV without a plan.”
“For God’s sake. That was almost ten years ago,” I said.
“Okay. You flew to New York for a temporary job without a plan.”
“I had a plan.”
“You did not. Admit it.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Maybe.” He smiled.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You usually do whether I give you permission or not.”
“Have you ever been on a normal date?”
“What do you consider a normal date?” His brows furrowed.
“You know. Dinner, drinks, getting to really know someone.”
“I’ve had dinner with women before, Bella.”
“That isn’t what I asked,” I said.
“Yes, I’ve been on dates.”
“How many?” I was curious to know.
“I’m not answering that.”
“Why?” I frowned.
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“Ah, that means there were too many to count.”
“No. It means I’m not answering your question. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How many dates have you been on?”
“None of your business.”
“Convenient,” he sighed.
“But if you must know, this is really my first date in over a year since Grady and I broke up.”
The car pulled up to the curb not too far from the restaurant. Simon climbed out first and extended his hand. I placed mine in his, and he helped me out. I stood on the cement for a moment as thousands of volts of electricity soared through me.
We stepped inside the restaurant and were immediately taken to our table. The place was gorgeous. It was small and intimate, with low lighting that cast a warm glow over the restaurant’s dark, polished wood.
“This is beautiful,” I said, placing the cloth napkin on my lap.
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Oh, so you thought about whether I’d like it? You gave it some thought first?”
“I chose a restaurant, Bella,” he sighed.
“That isn’t what you said, Simon.”
“Bella.” His tone was firm.
“I’m just making an observation.” I smiled.
A man in a dark suit approached the table.
“Mr. Montclair. Good evening.” He poured water from a fancy pitcher into our glasses.
“Good evening.” Simon smiled.
“May I get you something to drink other than water?”
“I’ll have a double scotch. Bella?”
“I’ll have a cosmopolitan, please.”
“Coming right up.”
I looked around the restaurant. “This place must be impossible to get into.”
“It can be.”
“And you just happened to get a table the same day you asked me to dinner?”
“Yes,” he said, looking over the menu.
“How?”
“I called.”
“Of course you did.” I laughed.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You live in a completely different New York than everyone else.”
“I made a reservation,” he said.
The server walked over and set our drinks down.
“Can I ask you something?” I stared at him.
“Of course, you may.”
“How far out are you booking reservations?”
“I believe right now there’s a three-month waitlist.”
After he took our order, I stared at Simon.
“What?” He picked up his drink. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You called one of the hardest restaurants to get into in the city a few hours ago, said Simon Montclair would like a table, and magically a table appeared?”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s not making a reservation. That’s being filthy rich.”
He laughed. “Or maybe it’s because Montclair Development owns the place.”
My jaw dropped. “You do?”
“MDG does.”
He could call it a dinner all he wanted. This was absolutely a date. He brought me to a restaurant his company owned.
“Say it, Simon.”
“Say what?”
“This is a date.”
“No. I don’t put labels on dinner. Enough with the date bullshit. Tell me what happened with you and Grady. Why did you break up?”
“Are you asking because you’re genuinely interested, or are you conducting a background check on your temporary roommate?” I smirked.
“Believe it or not, I’m genuinely interested.”
I ran my finger along the stem of my glass. “Things weren’t working anymore. I wasn’t happy.”
“That’s rather vague,” he said.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“How long were you two together?”
“Almost two years.”
“That’s quite a long time.” His brow arched. “Did you live together?”
“No.”
“Were you going to?” he asked.
“He wanted to. I kept putting it off.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t sure. He talked about marriage, kids, a house with a picket fence.”
“I’m confused. You didn’t want those things?”
“I do.”
“Then what was the problem?”
“I realized I didn’t want them with him. God, that sounds horrible saying it out loud.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Simon said.
“Grady wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t cheat on me, and he treated me well. There wasn’t some huge betrayal that gave me a reason to hate him and walk away.”
“Well, you don’t need someone to do something terrible to know they’re not right for you,” he said.
“The more serious he got about our future, the more trapped I started to feel. Every time he talked about marriage, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Eventually,” I said.
“How did he take it?”
“Not well. He thought there was someone else.”
“Was there?” Simon’s brow arched.
“No. Not at all. I’d been feeling the way I’d felt for months.
I just kept ignoring it because I thought something was wrong with me.
He was trying to give me exactly what I thought I wanted.
A good man. A stable relationship. Someone who loved me and wanted a future with me.
I kept telling myself I should be happy. ”
“But you weren’t. Were you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “And I had no idea why.”
“Did you love him?”
“I did, but just not enough. I think I loved how comfortable we were. And maybe for a while, I confused comfortable with forever. As I said, he was a good guy. I just didn’t feel like forever could exist with him.”
“What did he say when you ended it?”
“That I was making the worst mistake of my life and that I would never find anyone who would love me and take care of me as he did. I felt horrible for hurting him. But when I walked out of his apartment that night with all the guilt and sadness, I felt relieved.”
“Have you talked to him since?” he asked.
“A couple of times. But not in many months. Last I heard, he moved on and was happy.”
“So why didn’t you go on dates after him?”
“I wanted to find myself and really search deep inside my soul as to why I wasn’t happy with Grady. So, I turned myself into a man-free zone. What about you? Why are there no relationships for you?”