"How about you? I never picked you to be a wine guy," I say, opening my menu, too, even though I already know what I’m getting.
"To be fair, you knew me as a sixteen-year-old hormonal jock." He raises a brow, closing his menu gently, placing it down on the dining table, leaning back in his chair.
"I’ve been good," he continues. "I took over this place when I retired, about seven years ago. It’s finally at the place where I want it to be, but things are constantly changing." He takes another sip.
There’s something about him that just oozes confidence, but not arrogance. Like he knows that women check him out every time he enters a room, but he isn’t an asshole about it.
"Retire from what, exactly? Aren’t you a little young to retire?" There’s a silence between us as the server, Morgan, comes to take our order.
"I’ll have the steak special, and I believe Cassandra here will have a bowl of fries?" he asks, smiling at me, and I nod to confirm.
"That’ll be all. Thanks, Morgan." He smiles at her, and she blushes, taking our orders back to the kitchen.
I wonder if he knows all of his staff by name, or if he paid attention to her name tag.
I would typically hate it if a man ordered for me. If this were a date, it would be a huge red flag.
But this isn’t a date, and he isn’t just any man.
Austin used to do it constantly by assuming he knew what I wanted, and I hated it. Half the time, he got it wrong, but I ate it anyway because I hated disappointing him.
I told Harley what I wanted one time, and he actually listened and confirmed it was what I wanted before ordering it for me.
"I retired from the NFL seven years ago after a shoulder injury." He shrugs like it’s not that big of a deal. I didn’t know he made it to the NFL, but I know it was always his goal. An injury to hisshoulder,of all places, must have killed him.I guess that’s the life of a professional athlete.
I never really followed sports. Austin stopped playing football the moment high school finished, so I didn’t have any reason to follow a team.
"I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Austin never—" I start, but he waves his hand in the air to stop me.
"Don’t worry about it. It's in the past. I never expected you to keep tabs on me, Herring," he replies, and I know he’s being genuine, but it doesn’t make me feel less guilty.
"I should have, though. We may not have stayed friends, but we were friends, once upon a time," I say shyly.
I abandoned most of my friendships at the request of Austin, because I was sixteen and thought he was my forever, but I should have known better, at sixteen, that dating the boy on the football team wouldn’t be a love that would last a lifetime.
"I don’t think your fiancé would be happy to hear that you considered me a friend." He takes a sip of his water before changing the subject, but I don’t miss how the word 'fiancé' sounded bitter on his lips.
"What have you been up to, anyway? How long are you in town for?" His unwavering eye contact and eager tone tell me he’s asking because he’s actually interested, not just trying to force conversation.
"Indefinitely," I admit. His face flashes with concern, but it quickly vanishes when Morgan brings over our food. "It’s nothing bad," I try to recover. "I’m just here for a fresh start," I say, in hopes that the conversation on my personal life doesn’t go any deeper. Picking at my nail beds on my thumb, I stare at my fries in silence, but he breaks it with a question I should have expected.
"Austin here with you?"
He mentioned myfiancéearlier, but I didn’t acknowledge it. I didn’t feel like delving into that part of my life. But I guess now I have to.
"Austin and I broke up a couple of months ago," I say, but Harley’s facial expression doesn’t waver. I expected a shocked reaction, maybe even amused, but his face remained the same.
I decided to stop hiding behind my failed relationship and start acknowledging that it’s over. I guess I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t. But I realize that I don’t feel sick to my stomach when I admit the words out-loud.
It feels more like... a relief.
A sense of freedom.
Like I can finally breathe.
"Actually, I’m here hoping you need an event planner," I say, letting out a deep breath.
If I’m being honest, I may as well go the whole way. We only have ten minutes left, and I’ve used none of the other thirty talking about the real reason I’m here.
