Picking up my fork, I flake off a piece of the salmon and stab it. Not wanting to give him anything worth filming, we eat in silence until he directs the camera back at the main group.
“What do you think?” Jace whispers.
“It’s amazing. You’re a really good cook.”
It wasn’t a lie. The fish was perfectly seasoned and cooked. Tender and moist on the inside but with a crisp on the outside. The potatoes were the perfect accent, and the salad was... well, salad. The dressing was great, though.
“I know my way around a kitchen,” he notes with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Care to expand on that comment?”
“Not right now. Ask me again sometime and I might tell you. When there aren’t a dozen people listening to our conversation.”
“Or cameras in our faces?”
“Exactly. I do want to keep some things about my life private.” I can see the shift in his posture when he says the word private. Almost like he’s hiding a huge fact that he wants to drop on me but isn’t sure he should.
“I get that. Nothing about being here is private, though. We’re on display for the world to see. To judge.”
Jace nods his head as he takes the last bite of his fish, dipping it in the vinaigrette before popping it in his mouth. There’s something sensual about the way he eats. Almost as if he’s caressing the fork with his lips. Lips I enjoy being caressed by.
“See something you like?” he asks, his devilish smirk back in place.
I was staring and I got caught. What’s new? It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.
“Actually—” My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me. Closing my eyes, I let out a frustrated breath before pulling it from my pocket, ready to throw it against the nearest wall.
“He still texting you?”
“Yup. Refuses to stop. I haven’t even read the messages. He can see when I do. I was hoping he would give up, but he’s a persistent bastard.”
“May I?” he asks, reaching for my phone.
“Go right ahead. I was going to ask if you wanted to, but I haven’t seen you all day.”
Jace winks at me as he reads through all the texts Wren has been sending.
“Well?” I urge when he offers no details before starting to type.
“He really wants to talk to you. Said he was going to keep texting until you replied. So I’m going to reply and he’ll get the message loud and clear.”
It feels like twenty minutes pass before Jace finally hands me back my phone, his eyes sparkling in delight.
“Do I even want to know what you wrote?”
“Read it. He already has.”
Looking down, sure enough, there’s a little note that says “read” beneath the incredibly long message Jace sent him.
JACE: There is no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to be blunt with you. You lost her. It’s over. You fucked up, and you need to accept that. Whether she talks about you on TV or not, she’s not interested in rekindling whatever shitty relationship you had. How do I know? Because she’s sitting next to me. Because I’m the one she’s been kissing on TV. Jace. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, but you don’t know much about me, so let me enlighten you a bit. I’m not here for the money. I came here to meet someone. To see if the idea of love even existed because, in my experience, it doesn’t. Until I met Presley, I was convinced I’d never find my perfect match. Someone I was willing to be completely honest with. Someone I wanted to share my life with. So I guess I should be thanking you for being a douchebag. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be staring into her gorgeous ocean-blue eyes, kissing her, holding her hand, and falling in love with her more and more every day. Considering my actual competition for her heart is at the other end of the table, I think it’s safe to say that your messages will continue to go unanswered if you choose to keep sending them. Save yourself the time and let go. It’s over. It’s been over. And she’s moved on. Have a nice night.
Wow!
I’m utterly speechless. I can’t even bring myself to look at Jace right now. I don’t want him to see the tears in my eyes from the words I just read.
He’s falling in love with me.