Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch at that.
"Go on," I say.
"I had the best time with you," she says, taking another small step forward. This time I don't step back. "I loved being Sailor. But what I loved most was that you liked me for me, not for my money. I was planning on telling you when we got back to New York, but I just loved being in that bubble with you and your wonderful family." Her voice drops. "And honestly, Liv, I haven't felt so happy in a very long time."
Our eyes meet and hold, and I'm torn—so desperately torn between wanting to give in and running away. The rational side of my brain knows that trust, once broken, is nearly impossible to rebuild. But the part that remembers how safe I felt in herarms, how she made me laugh, how she looked at me like I was the most fascinating person in the world—that part is winning.
"I liked being with you too," I admit.
Her face lights up with hope. "Enough to have dinner with me?"
I look at the intimate table set for two. It feels surreal knowing it was all for me. When she pulls out my chair, I sink into it.
The waiter appears, pouring champagne into crystal flutes before disappearing again. I take a sip, letting the alcohol calm my nerves a little.
"So is SamyourPA?" I ask, because I need to know everything now. No more surprises.
"Yes," she says.
"She's pretty." I internally cringe. I sound jealous but I want the truth—the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It's the only way we can even attempt to move forward. "Have you two ever been involved?"
"No." Blair shakes her head. "Sure, Sam is pretty. She's also straight and like a sister to me. We’re close. That's why she still works for me part-time."
I nod and study Blair’s face in the candlelight. The sharp line of her jaw, the way her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners when she smiles. "I want to know everything about you," I say finally. "And no lies this time."
I glance at my watch and, for the first time since she revealed herself, I smile. The effect on her is immediate—her entire face transforms, that devastating smile spreading across her features.
"You have another hour,” I say. “We'll reassess after that."
The chef appears with our first course—seared scallops that smell like heaven—and I'm actually hungry. When was the last time I ate? This morning? Yesterday? I squeezed this event inlast-minute so I barely had time to sleep. It's something I rarely do as planning takes time and resources, but it just seemed like easy money. Too easy, I realize now.
"So," I say, cutting into a perfectly cooked scallop. "Blair Davis. Shoot. And don't give me statistics, I already Googled the fuck out of you."
She chuckles. "Of course you did. What do you want to know?"
"Let's start with the basics. Your family story—was any of that true?"
"Yeah, it was. My father really passed away when I was twelve. Heart attack. And my mother remarried a few years later. John’s a good man. I don't really see him as a stepfather—more like a friend—but he is absolutely a father to Danny. They have this great relationship."
"And how is Danny doing now?"
"Much better, thank God. I'm going back to see him next week. I promised to take him on a trip when he was better."
"That's nice. Where are you taking him?"
Blair grins sheepishly. "The Mustard Museum in Wisconsin."
I blink at her, certain I misheard.
"Yeah, that was kind of my reaction too." She laughs. "But my little brother likes mustard, so if that's what he wants, that's what he'll get. There's not even a decent hotel nearby, so I booked us a motel and we'll drive all the way there because Danny loves road trips as much as he likes baseball and mustard."
The image warms me—this incredibly wealthy woman driving her disabled brother to Wisconsin to look at mustard jars.
"That's very sweet of you," I say.
She shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. "I should have spent more time with him over the years. I intend to do so in the future."
I take another sip of champagne, fighting a smile. "So… are you excited for the mustard museum? It's been at the top of my bucket list for quite some time."
