“And your second?”
“She um…” Blake swallows thickly. “She wasn’t in the relationship for the right reasons.”
“Was it serious?”
He nods, taking a swig. “Yep. I had a ring and everything.”
“Shit,” I huff, tightening my grip on his thigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He shrugs, but I can tell it’s still painful to talk about. “It’s in the past now.”
I paint a soft smile onto my lips. “What’s meant to be will always be.”
“You believe that?”
“A hundred percent.”
“I—”
Whatever Blake had been about to say is cut off by the reappearance of the tall waiter. “If the two of you would like to follow me, your table is ready in the garden.”
I slide from the barstool, steadying myself on my feet before I grab my clutch in one hand and Blake’s arm in the other.
We walk through the throng of occupied tables, Blake a step in front of me. I peer down at our hands joined together – Blake’s large, dry palm engulfing my small one – feeling athrill course through me at the sight of our size difference before my gaze wanders a little further south.
God, his arse looks fantastic in his tailored trousers; the material tight around the back of his corded thighs, highlighting the perk—
“Is here okay?”
Finding both the waiter and Blake peering down at me, waiting for my response, I nod.
“Here’s fine. Thank you so much!”
Hereconsists of a wooden table, tucked at the back of the restaurant, perfectly sandwiched between a potted tree, unlit fairy lights wrapped around its thick trunk, and a towering heater shaped like a streetlamp.
I slide into one of the chairs while the waiter places a thick leatherbound menu in front of me and then tucks his hands behind his back. “I’ll get you a carafe of water for the table. Would you like any more drinks?”
“I’ll have another beer,” Blake replies, bending his long legs to fit into the seat opposite me.
“And for yourself?”
I shake my head. “I’ll just stick to water for now, thank you.”
Grabbing one of the two menus, I flip it open to the first page, my mouth beginning to water and my stomach perking up in interest as I read the copious amount of starters and share platters available. It’s only when I feel the heat of Blake’s green gaze, searing into the crown of my head, that I look at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” His lips twist to the side while he peers over my shoulder and a little to the left. “Don’t look now, but McAvoy is behind you.”
Shit.
My mouth dries.
In all of our chit chat and flirty banter at the bar, I’d completely forgotten why Blake and I are here at Asado’s in the first place.
I shiver, feeling like a bucket of ice-cold water has been thrown at me and it’s got nothing to do with stepping outside. My heart plummets south, stomach flipping unhappily at the sudden reminder.
This – tonight – isn’t real.
