I relax in my seat and tuck my hair behind my ear, working out the best way to navigate this conversation.
“Adam was the first guy I’d dated in years.”
I wait for Holt to react, but he doesn’t say or do anything.
Sighing, I continue. “Being with him was like trying to date that boyfriend from high school, only to realize he never grew up. Nothing changed. He reminded me why I swore off dating all together.”
“Why have you sworn off dating?”
The four walls of the restaurant close in on me. Panic sets in, forcing my breathing to hitch. Then there’s an echo of not only one gun shot, but two. I close my eyes and bite back the tears threatening to form.
Memories are weapons. Weapons used against you in the future to keep you from moving on with life. That’s what this one has done time and time again.
“Doesn’t matter, really,” I murmur, shaking the chill from my body.
Thankfully, Holt seems to accept my answer with no further interrogation.
“My turn.” I clear my throat.
“I’m all ears.” I feel his foot inching towards mine under the table.
The tip of his shoe meets the tip of my heel, and my pulse ticks up. No, it practically leaps so hard I think it might tear straight through my flesh and fall onto my chocolate cake, crumb-coated plate.
“How are you…” I swallow thickly. “How are you, um, feeling after the news of Rome’s lawsuit broke?”
“Oh.” He visibly deflates but considers my question. “It’s been a shitshow at the magazine, but I have my team tasked with figuring out who wrote the article.”
“I thought it was anonymous?”
“It is, but there’s always a paper trail,” he says, coolly. “I’ll find out who wrote it.”
“What will you do?”
Holt shrugs. “I plan on showing it to Rome in the hopes it will get him to drop the lawsuit. Hopefully, I can convince the author to own up to it.”
“Are you sure that will work?” I ask, the reality of this lawsuit hitting me. I can see the turmoil it’s causing Holt just by having this conversation.
“It’s my only hope.” A small smile appears. “The Capuletis and Montgomerys may be sworn enemies, but I still know how to handle a crisis situation.”
“Confident, huh?” I smirk and raise my wine glass, only to realize it’s empty. Holt catches on and pours what’s left of our second bottle into my glass.
“Always,” Holt says, lifting his gaze up to mine as he sets the empty bottle down, then relaxes back in his chair. “My turn. Tell me I was right.”
His words are like a bolt of lightning. “Right about what?”
“I was right about our kiss. You enjoyed it.” There his voice goes again, slipping over me like weighted velvet.
“Holt…” I avert my gaze. I can’t look at him. The longer I do, the more I feel like he can see too much.
“If you did - and I know you did – it’s okay to admit it.”
I dart my attention back to him. He’s leaning closer, shoving his empty plate forward. It clinks against the tiny votive candle at the end of its life. His foot has now found its way next to mine, the toe of his shiny black shoe slipping along the inside of my arch.
“But knowing you did makes this all the easier to ask.”
“Ask me what?” I gulp.
“I know you’ve sworn off dating but… why not date me?”
