“Hey,” I stammer as she sits, the host unfolding her napkin and offering to place it in her lap.
Once the host walks away, she looks around the room before circling back to me. “Hi,” she says. “Where’s Alyson?”
I don’t want to lie to her, but I fear what she will do when I tell her the truth. If I ever want anything more with her again, I can’t lie. Honesty is essential. No matter the consequences.
“Not sure. She’s doing her own thing. Exploring the area and whatnot.”
I mentally prepare for the backlash. The anger. For her to get up and stomp off and not talk to me again. Because she has to be upset at the fact that I coordinated a dinner with her and made her believe it was a meeting.
My eyes dart between hers, watching her expression and waiting for the fire that is bound to blaze at any moment. But I don’t see anger. Confusion still paints lines on her forehead, her eyes pinching at the corners.
“So, there’s no meeting?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I tell her.
Her shoulders drop as she exhales a deep breath. Was the idea of having a meeting a concern for her? I hadn’t read the email Alyson sent Cora, but I told her to make certain it was vague. Had it been so vague she was concerned for her job? Shit.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’ve just been pondering over why we were having a meeting. Everything has been laid out since the beginning, so I wasn’t sure if something had changed. I’m relieved everything’s good.” She takes a sip of her water, sets the glass down, and then points her finger at me. “You, on the other hand, I’m a little peeved at.”
I knew I wouldn’t be let off the hook so easily, but I feign innocence for shiggles. “Me? What did I do?” I press a hand against my chest and pop my mouth open in mock horror.
“Please,” she drawls out the word, lacing it with sarcasm and making me smile. “You’ve asked me to have dinner with you twice. Both times I’ve told you no. So instead of hearing a third rejection, you tell your I’ll-kiss-your-ass-every-day-of-the-week agent to orchestrate a phony dinner meeting and not be at said meeting. Am I missing anything?”
Her spunk and tenacity spark a thrill in my chest, a fire I haven’t felt in years. If anything, her spunk seems to have grown. I would give up everything to keep our fire burning. To keep her.
“You kept saying no. How else am I supposed to get you to have dinner with me?” I joke.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe ask another time or two. I would’ve caved.”
That’s an admission I wasn’t expecting. She would have given in? She would have said yes? This adds a whole new layer to our already complicated situation. I open my mouth to respond, but have absolutely no idea what to say. So, I close my mouth and simply stare at her awestruck.
“Yes. Eventually I would have said yes,” she admits.
Wait… what? “Did I just say that out loud?”
“If you mean, she would have said yes? Then yes, you said it out loud.”
Fuck my head for not operating at full capacity.
“Well, I’m humiliated,” I tell her, heat crawling up my neck and scorching my face. I pick up my water and down half the glass.
“Gavin…” she says my name like it’s her favorite, and not, at the same time. “I need this contract. This is huge for me.” Her words are a plea for understanding. “I can’t risk messing it up. This shoot will be the most valuable item on my future resume. When future clients see that I’ve done a shoot for Global Beach Magazine, it’ll push me to the next level. Open doors I’ve dreamed about for years.”
I stare at the empty white plate in front of me, nodding in realization. Me asking her to dinner could royally screw her career. The contract we each signed explicitly stated no fraternization between the model and photographer. And my selfishness could fuck that up for her. “Sorry,” I whisper.
She reaches over and places her hand on mine. The heat from her skin penetrates mine, sending a ripple of emotions from my fingertips to my core. I have no idea how I survived the last thirteen years without her. Without her touch, without her embrace, without her lips on mine.
“Don’t apologize. I just need you to understand. This career is my life and I have to be careful not to jeopardize it,” Cora states as her forehead scrunches.
“I get it. Things are somewhat the same for me. Sure, I could justify us having dinner together as being old friends, but I know it’s more than that. At least it is for me.”
Cora opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off when the server sidles up beside the table and asks for our drink orders. We order drinks, telling the server we need a few more minutes before ordering our meals.
The moment he walks away, I catch her watching me. Her green eyes soft and caring. She doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t have to. We lock eyes for twenty rapid beats of my heart before my eyes break away first.
I am so fucked.