Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“And you didn’t once think I should’ve had any say in that?” I asked.
“No. You were an eighteen-year-old boy hopelessly in love but destined for so much more.”
“You ripped my decision away from me. I called after you, and not once did you turn around. And I admit I should’ve gone after you more. I should’ve gotten into my car and driven after you until your ass ran out of gas or pulled over or—or something. But you made that decision without my consent, and I would’ve never done something like that to you.”
She winced, and I immediately backed off. I had slapped her with my words and that had not been my intention for this dinner. The confident woman who waltzed in with her juicy legs and her high head sank back into her chair. She physically curled herself away from me.
She hid herself again, and it broke my heart. But we were already knee-deep in a conversation that was long overdue, so we might as well see it to the end.
“Don’t make decisions for my life without consulting me. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s someone who takes away my right to make a decision. You know that.”
She bit down on her lower lip as her gaze panned around the room. She was hiding something, keeping something from me. While I had attributed the distance that had formed between us to my words, I wasn’t sure if her inability to open up was because she had a secret or because we had spent the last eight years avoiding one another.
“I need you to understand that even though you hurt me and even though I questioned every decision I made with my life for months after you left, never once did I make a move I didn’t think would benefit you. I loved you, Tyler, as much as any eighteen-year old girl could. And I did what I thought was best for the boy I loved. That’s all.”
“And I can respect that, but it doesn’t mean I agree with it,” I said.
“Seems like everyone feels that way about my choices,” she murmured.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what did you say?”
“This dinner was a mistake.”
“Ana, stop.”
“Have a nice night,” she said.
She got up from her chair, and I lunged after her. I had allowed her to walk away from me once, but I wasn't allowing it again. I wrapped my hand around her wrist and stopped her in her tracks, and the electricity that filled my palm shot goosebumps up her arm. She pulled herself away from me and rubbed them away, but I had already seen them.
She still wanted me.
And I sure as hell still wanted her.
“Is there anything else you want to say to me?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Then sit down and let me buy you dinner. I didn’t quite stick to the rules, so let me make it up to you.”
“I really should go,” she said.
“We don’t have to talk. We don’t have to interact. But no woman who comes out to eat with me is leaving hungry. Sit and eat, Ana. Then if you want, you can leave whenever you’re done and I’ll pick up the tab.”
She glanced at the table before her sad eyes raked up to mine. I didn’t know what she was hiding, but it was eating her up inside. I had come with every intention of expressing my want for a second chance with her, but now the tide had changed. I didn’t want to ruin the night any more than it had already been ruined, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to scare her off again.
There would be a time and a place for that, but we weren’t there yet.
I sighed with relief when she made her way back to the table. I inched her chair out and she sat down. Then I scooted her under the table and made my way back to my seat. The waiter came over and I put in a request for a nice bottle of red wine. Then the two of us ordered. I got the filet mignon with shrimp poured over it and steamed broccoli. Ana ordered their shrimp cocktail, a small chicken salad, and Kahlua crème brûlée.
“That dessert sounds wonderful. Make it two,” I said.
We passed our menus off to the waiter and were left alone again.
“So, how did you go about making yourself a local fashion icon?” I asked.
The smile that crossed Ana’s face sent butterflies humming in my gut.
“Out of anger, actually. I went shopping with Mom one day after—” She paused and backtracked. “Well, we just went shopping, really. I’ve always hated shopping. Nothing ever fit right and nothing ever looked as good on me as it did the mannequin. I got so fed up one day while shopping with Mom that I blurted out the question that started it all: ‘Why don’t they make a store for me?’ It dawned on me not too long after that.”