I don’t answer. The man hit the nail on the head.
“And then, of course, there are the times we hurt them. Usually with our egos. Then we do what we can, what we must, to make it up to them. I don’t suppose I have to tell you that.”
I give a long sigh and catch sight of myself in a nearby window. I look like a mad fucker, my hair standing on end, like the kind of person you dread sitting next to you on the bus. Not that I’ve been on a bus in a while. And why do I look like a mad bus-riding vagrant? Because someone slighted Ryan and because I want to fucking crush them.
But that’s about me, like Fin said. It’s about my ego, not hers. And the thing I’ve been preparing for? The thing I said I wouldn’t do without her say-so? I might’ve already changed my mind.
“I will say that I have a particularly tender spot for men who mistreat the women they once claimed to love,” Oliver then says.
“You do, do you?”
“Yes. A particularly tender spot I like to hurt them.”
“That sounds like dirty fighting.”
“I meant their wallets, Matías.”
“Of course you did. No common thuggery for you.”Leave that to me,I think, pressing my phone between my ear and shoulder asI crack my tense knuckles. I recall a beating I administered without her knowledge.Or say-so.“We can’t have your ancestors turning in their graves, now can we?”
“Mausoleum.”
“Of course.” I roll my eyes and set off walking to the car again. “How silly of me to think they’d be put in common ground.”
“I have things to do, Matías. Are we adding Theta to the list and waging war on hedge funds on two continents?”
“Not Theta,” I say. I think Nigel might think twice now before believing industry gossip. My ego can calm the fuck down.
“Understood,” he murmurs. “It’s been a while since I ruined someone’s livelihood.”
“You sound like you’re looking forward to it.”
“This is not my play, Matías. But I wish you good fortune in your endeavors. Though I will say we are yet to meet the lady in question. The reason for all this.”
“Yeah, I know. Soon,” I add, almost crossing the fingers of my right hand.
“Not that I’d add undue pressure, but I might suggest you step up your security before Fin turns up on your doorstep.”
I chuckle. The golden retriever of our pack. Well, he’s not shagging my leg.
“It’s just a question of time. Ryan’s had a lot of adjustments to make.”
Or am I just making excuses for her?
“This wine is delicious.” Ryan sets down her glass and leans back in her chair, arching the small of her back a touch.
“I ordered it from Oliver’s wine merchant,” I say, trying not to let my mind drift back a couple of weeks at the tiny reminder.She looked so luscious draped across the counter, all dark eyed and replete.
I hope to God it isn’t long before I can taste her again. To hold her in my arms as we look forward to our future together.
“The fella said you can get pretty decent nonalcoholic varieties of wine these days.” Which is total shite, because the man wanked on and on about alcohol being needed to soften the tannins and smooth out acidity. He might also have bemoaned the “diabolical effect the process has on the mouthfeel.” Christ, I wanted to feel his mouth with my fist by the time he shut up.
But I digress.
It’s date night. At least, it is in my mind. Though the number per week is still mandated—nay, controlled—by my lovely companion, I look forward to these evenings over anything else.
A delicious meal, at home, of course, because anything outside these four walls might be misconstrued by the rest of the world. Little does she know we’ve been having romantic rendezvous at this table for months, and not just that time I pressed her to the countertop and ate her out.
God, I’m such a romantic.
