Lance bobbed his head. “It doesn’t seem real.” He placed his hands on top of her shoulders. “How about we have dinner tonight? You and me. No reporters and no cameras. We can even turn off our phones.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t take a selfie? I have to at least post something on Instagram.”
“I think we need a break from all the media.”
“Well… I would, Babe.” She groaned. “I promised I would have dinner with your mother.”
He blinked. “What?”
Andrea bit at her bottom lip. “She said she wants to get to know me better as her future daughter-in-law. This may be our only chance to talk between the wedding and us leaving for the honeymoon. Not to mention work. I have meetings that I’ve agreed to do online.”
Lance’s shoulders drooped. “Did she pressure you? I haven’t talked to her yet, but—”
She touched his face. “It’ll be fine. I can hold my own with your mother.”
“Tomorrow night then. You and me. No exceptions.”
“Agreed.”
***
Chantelle laced her fingers back and forth. She still berated herself for hinting at her past with Lance. Then again, why didn’t he tell Andrea about them? Were there some unresolved feelings that he didn’t want his fiancé to know about? Chantelle could hope, but she wouldn’t let her mind go there.
Why stay and torture herself? Her feelings for Lance were stronger than ever. Watching him sit across from her with Andrea tore at Chantelle’s insides.
How she wanted to scream from the rooftops, “don’t marry her!” She didn’t. She wouldn’t ruin his life as she had in the past. Though he broke up with her, perhaps she expected too much from him too soon.
Forgive. Chantelle scrambled over her mac-and-cheese on her plate with her fork. Music played in the background of Delta’s Kitchen, and she inhaled the steam from a hot platter nearby. The home-cooking restaurant always satisfied her stomach in the past, but her stomach only rolled tonight. When Javier called, asking her out to dinner, Chantelle agreed only to tell him the truth.
“Everything okay?” He took a sip from his water glass.
“The food is great,” she said.
“You haven’t eaten it yet.” Javier set down his fork. “Are you sure you’re alright? Is it work?”
Chantelle didn’t make eye contact. “I’m almost finished.”
“You don’t sound too excited.”
“I am.” Did her voice shake? Lifting her chin to stare at him, Javier’s eyes focused on her. He had to have sensed her unease. It was now or never.
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, Javier.”
“You don’t feel well? Is it the food?” His forehead wrinkled.
“It’s not that it’s... us.”
He sat back in his seat and raised his hand to stroke his chin. “Things moving too fast?”
She focused her gaze at him. “You’re an amazing man. I know it’s still early and we’re getting to know each other, but…” This was why she preferred writing. How did she put her feelings into words from her own heart?
Javier finished her sentence. “You don’t feel the same.”
She rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say a word for a moment. Then he rested his elbows on the table. The thickness in Chantelle’s throat only made it difficult to swallow.
Javier answered. “I understand and I appreciate your honesty.”