“No,” I laugh dryly. “You’re right. You deserved better.”
“I deservedyou.The real you,” she says quietly. “MyChristian.”
I nod and accept it.Her Christian.
“I wantyou,” she barely whispers, but I hear it.
I hear the present tense, no past tenses now. It’s a tiny sliver of hope, kind of like the tiniest sprout coming out of the dirt I’ve laid down. It’s barely there, but it’s there, I see it. So I’ll water it and make it grow and we’ll bloom and we’ll be just fine.
“Lana!” We turn toward the voice and I’m looking at the golden boy through the passenger side window and he’s wavingto get Lana’s attention before lowering the window. “Lana! Lana, hey!”
This motherfucker isn’t getting out of the car?
She gives him one of those weak smiles and stiff wave. “Hey, one second,” she tells him. “Christian?—”
“He can’t get out and open the door for you? Greet you a better way than shouting your name through a window?”
“Christian…”
I shake my head and sigh. “Go, have fun,” I say. “I’ll check on you later.”
Lana hesitates before she walks away from me. Levi doesn’t get out of his car. And he doesn’t open her door.
CHAPTER5
Lana
“Wine?” Levi asks, the unsteady flame from the candle on the center of the table reflecting in his green eyes.
“No, I’m okay,” I say, picking at my elbow with my nails.
He calls our waiter over and I peruse the menu again, for the fourth time. There is still nothing I like on this menu and the prices are…a bit much for me. Willow Springs has amazing, family owned restaurants, from fast food to extravagant, all of them in a good price range.
But Levi insisted on going one town over for this place. Hence the dress and heels, and the effort put into curling my hair, nearly burning my fingerprints off with each wrap around the wand.
A salad is my safest bet right now—a twenty dollarsmallsalad. And thethirtydollar glass of wine Levi just ordered for me anyway.
The patient waiter, who has come back to ask if we were ready four times, sets the small glass in front of me. I mumble a thank you, and for the fifth time, he asks, “Are we ready?”
“Yes,” Levi says all too eagerly. “I’ll have the filet mignon.”
“I, um,” I pick at my elbow again. “I’ll have the Caesar salad. Small, please.”
The waiter takes our menus and when he’s gone, Levi’s eyebrows are drawn together. “A salad? What’s wrong?”
I shrug. “I’m not that hungry.”
He blinks, a frown tilting his lips. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, it isn’t you.”
I guess we hit it off better when we were both drunk with barely any inhibitions. And when Christian isn’t living out of his car. In my driveway.
I give Levi a tightlipped smile, and he gives me the same back, as if he has realized the same thing. His phone vibrates against the table and he’s quick to answer. “Sorry,” he says, standing. “I’ve gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”
I nod as he walks away and outside the restaurant. I should have stayed home. With my few minutes of freedom, I check my phone.
Christian
