9. Kate
Chapter Nine
Kate
The plates were mostly empty, and the candle wax burned low between us, casting a soft, golden flicker across the table.
Across him, even in the dim light, I could still make out the flecks of gold in his eyes, warm as honey.
He’d been watching me for the last few minutes in that quiet, steady way of his.
Like he was asking a million questions without saying a word.
Jordan set his fork down and leaned back slightly. There was a pause. Just long enough to know he was weighing whatever came next.
“I don’t really do this, you know?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What, eat carbs?”
That earned me a genuine laugh and a full-watt smile that reached all the way to his eyes.
“No, this.” He gestured vaguely between us, his mouth tugging like he almost didn’t want to admit it. “Dinner. Sitting across from someone I just met. Grinning like an idiot.”
I smiled, too, tilting my head. “Well, I’ll consider myself honoured.”
He dropped his gaze, thumb brushing the rim of his glass. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
“I just mean…I don’t usually invite people. Not to matches, not to dinner. I like keeping it private.” He looked back up at me, and our eyes met. “But then I saw you by the bar, and I thought…oh. There you are.”
For a second, I forgot how to breathe. There was no agenda in it. No pickup line or forced charm. Just a sentence that made my cheeks flush and my heart skip.
I said nothing, because I didn’t need to. The silence carried it. But I could feel my lips turning up in an involuntary grin.
Then, as if he’d caught himself getting too sincere for too long, he tilted his head with that cocky little glint again.
“So tell me, how’s a girl like you sitting here single, making me look like I’m the lucky one?”
Ah…there it was. The shift I’d been waiting for. I felt it before I even reacted—the way my shoulders tensed slightly, the way my smile stayed but cooled by a few degrees. I set my glass down gently, fingers tingling. I knew this had been going too well.
“Oof. Big question,” I breathed.
His expression changed instantly. “Sorry…you don’t have to…”
“No, no. It’s fine.” My voice came out a little too bright, too chirpy. “I’m a pretty open book.”
I twisted the corner of my napkin, glanced at the dripped wax, then looked back up again. The air stretched between us. I could dodge. Keep it light. But something about the way he was looking at me, curious, not pitying, made dodging feel pointless.
“I was married,” I said finally. “For a while.”
He straightened in his seat just slightly. He was really listening now.
“Then he put his dick in a woman ten years younger than me,” I added flatly. “So…there was that.”
He spluttered so hard on his water I thought I might have to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on a professional athlete.
“Jesus,” he coughed, laughing.
“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “He’s thriving now. Proper LinkedIn energy these days.”
That cracked him up. His laugh was full-bodied, with dimples, surprise, and no trace of pity. I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a beat, his voice lower now. “That’s…shit.”
“It was,” I admitted with a lightness on my face. “For a bit. Then it wasn’t. Life goes on.”
He was still watching me, his expression softer now, still curious and warm. And for once, I didn’t feel defensive or ashamed.
“It wasn’t right anyway,” I said. “I’ve got a good job, a house I like, and a best friend with a six-year-old who thinks I’m the coolest grown-up alive.
” I smiled, gentler this time. “And now I’m on a pasta date with a surprisingly charming tennis player.
” The grin he gave me could have lit up the whole room.
He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me like I’d cracked open a window he hadn’t expected, and instead of shutting it, I’d let a breeze slip in.
And somehow, that was enough.