“Nobody forced you to stay with a walking red flag.”
She yanks her hand away. “Hi pot, meet kettle. What’s her name? Alisa?”
Unfortunately, my ex is trying her old tactics, involving the press and rehashing old photos of us. It was all over social media last week so I had to give Eliza the short version of the story.
“Alicia. Not the point. It’s easier for you to search until you find real love because your name doesn’t send the media into a frenzy.”
“Ouch.” She grimaces. “Make a girl feel special, won’t you?”
“I don’t have to. This is my point. Somebody will love you just for yourself, not because you can give them something.” And there’s plenty to love about her. She is resilient and sees the best in people. Radiates a warmth that paints the world in sunny colors.
“Tone it down with the compliments or I’ll combust,” she says flatly.
The look on her face makes me uneasy. I didn’t mean to insult her.
She waves a dismissive hand, chasing away the comment. “Either way, being nobody and having nothing tobring to the table”—she air quotes the phrase—“didn’t quite work for me either.”
When she says it like that it sounds harsher and meaner than I thought.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“And yet you do it so effortlessly.” She tries to crack a smile, but my careless comment cut deep and I hate myself for it. I’m not used to sugarcoating what I tell people.
We stare at our plates in silence, the murmur of voices and clank of cutlery against porcelain morphing into white noise around us.
“I did, once.” The confession slips out.
She’s quiet. Giving me the chance to choose to tell her more. She wouldn’t force it out of me, even if she could.
“Believe in real love.” The words grate the inside of my throat. “I grew out of it.”
Eliza follows the swirl of the remaining lemonade in her glass, as she plays with the stem, deep in thought.
Outside the restaurant, the boardwalk is deserted, streetlamps casting a golden glow along the old wooden planks.
“Take a walk with me?” I want to clear the air before we return. This day has been too surprisingly lovely to let it end on a sour note. “I’ve never seen a lighthouse up close before.”
Eliza glances at the building in the distance. A gust of wind blows through and plays in her hair, swirling it around her face. It takes her by surprise, and she bursts into giggles after trying with no success to tame her long hair. My mouth is dry and I’m overwhelmed by this woman.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt out and she stills, blushing prettily.
I can’t resist and close the distance between us, stroking the wild hair from her face, taking in every little detail. Burning it in my memory for the cold New Yorknights. My hands rest on the sides of her head, holding the soft hair trapped and I angle her head, urging her to lock eyes with me.
“You don’t need a famous last name to draw people in. That’s what I meant earlier. Some can’t handle what you can bring. Weak, dull, small people are scared by how bright you shine. I want you never to hold back.”
Her lips part, delicate and inviting.
“I’d gladly let you burn me if necessary.”
We’re so close the chocolate on her breath fills my lungs with her taste. Breathing her in until it hurts, because I want to selfishly keep any part of her I can.
“Show me?” she pants into my mouth.
Emotions run unchecked and I don’t stop to consider the way she unleashes the fire I keep sealed.
The rise and fall of her breasts grazing my shirt draws out a low groan and I’m a whisper away from crashing against those sinful lips when a high-pitched whistle jolts us apart.
A group of tipsy giggling girls hollers at us before diving into the next bar. “Go get it, hon!”
