"Excuse me for a moment." He sets his napkin on the table and stands. "Just going to run to the men's room." The telltale muscle flexes along his jawline.
I reach for my wine.
There is so much about this man that doesn't add up and tonight has somehow made the pile larger rather than smaller.
CHAPTER TWENTY
BENNET
"Jenn, are you listening to me?"
"Bennet, I'm on a date. Which I told you the tenth time you texted me, which you've now followed up with a phone call." A pause. "I can unequivocally say that I am not listening to you."
"Jenn,pleeease." I run my hand through my hair and pace the length of the men's room. "I will FaceTime you and get on my knees right here if I need to. I need you."
I hear muffled conversation on her end while I wait impatiently.
I know I'm being a whiny bitch right now. I am fully aware of that. I am also Losing. My. Fucking. Mind.
I excused myself to the men's room after what Blaire told me, and I've been standing here slipping back into this teenage obsession that I thought I'd buried along with my old name. She has consumed my every thought since she waltzed her fine ass back into my life.
Ugh. See. I can't even get through my own internal monologue without mentioning her ass. It's gone from putrid hate to lustful hate, and the distinction is not doing me any favors.
"Okay, you have three minutes, Sullivan," Jenn says finally.
"I'm on my public date with Blaire and she just told me about some genuinely horrific things she went through with her husband, and this morning we kissed in my office — it wasn't for the cameras, I just lost control and grabbed her by the throat and attacked her mouth. Then she stroked my cock, and I had my fingers inside her, but Rosalie walked in on us. Rosalie is my sister, by the way. You should meet her; I think you'd like her. But now I want to kiss Blaire again and I want to do considerably more than kiss her and, god, Jenn, she's just like I remember her and—"
"Holyyyy fuck, Sullivan. Talk about word vomiting. Good god. One step at a time. First, take a breath."
"There is a lot of ground to cover, and I only have three minutes."
"Fine, you can have five." I hear her shifting, putting some distance between herself and whoever she's with. "What's the actual issue? Do you forgive her?"
"I think I do. But I don't want to."
"Well. I saw the pictures from the club. You two look good together. There's even a video of her on your lap. It was hot. I was almost jealous."
"Wait, you were? Jenn, I'm so sorry—"
"Fucking hell,focus, Sullivan. I don't want you like that."
"God, you're mean today."
"I'M ON A DATE!" she yells it, and I have to pull the phone from my ear. A beat of silence passes. "Sorry. I am really looking forward to getting dicked down tonight and I don't need this six-foot six Greek god of a man getting the wrong idea because I'm on my phone. But I'm here for you." Another pause. "Tomorrow."
"Jenn—"
"Sullivan. You have feelings for this woman. That is abundantly clear to me from the other side of a dinner I would very much like to get back to. Stop hiding behind the anger; it's not serving you anymore." Her voice drops. "Now get back out there and stop being a dick to a woman who clearly makes you feel something. Figure the rest out later. Okay?"
I lean against the sink.
"Okay," I say.
"Good. Now good night."
She hangs up.
Blaire looks up when she sees me making my way back to the table, and her eyes soften in a way I didn't ask for and absolutely do not need.
