Page 46 of Battle Scars

Honestly, I shouldn’t be thinking about Gabe at all. Whatever this is that we’ve been doing is so toxic. It’s not healthy, and both of us will be better off once we’ve made a clean break from each other.

Going out tonight with Bobby is good.

This is healthy.

But most of all, being with Bobby will be safe. I need some separation from Gabe and his toxic fucking so I can think straight again.

Bobby pulls up to the valet at the Marine Room in La Jolla, a small dining room that sits over the beach offering diners an upscale culinary experience. Tucked away off the beaten path, it’s a spot for locals, not tourists, and a romantic one at that. Bobby must be serious about wanting to be with me.

We climb out of his car, and he joins me at the curb, tucking my hand into his. It’s a sweet gesture, and I turn to smile at him, but the flash of a camera—and then another and another—surprises me. The press is lined up outside the restaurant, snapping pictures of us walking into the restaurant hand in hand like lovers. Since this is an out-of-the-way spot, I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that someone called them, and the only one who could have, who would have, is Bobby.

He gives his winning smile for the cameras as he leads me into the restaurant, and I’m disappointed to notice that when he gives his name to the young hostess, she leads us to a table that has a view of the ocean but also sits by one of the windows at the front of the building, where the paparazzi can easily snap pictures of us on our date. How romantic.

I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t because I was raised to behave myself in public. When your parents are famous it’s basic protocol not to embarrass them on a night out. Sure, I could have tons of times, but I don’t. Even if I’ll never measure up, I still try my best.

He pulls my chair out for me, and I notice he takes the seat with the better view but also manages to position us so we’re on display for the press to see. I bite back a frustrated sigh. This is not off to a good start.

The Marine Room has always been one of my favorite restaurants. I love coming here, and it’s always a special treat, so I’m going to make the best of the night. Their seared ahi is by far my favorite dish, so when the server comes up to the table, I know exactly what I want. I open my mouth to order, when Bobby beats me to it and orders the salmon… for me.

“Actually, I’d prefer the ahi,” I correct.

“You have to stay in shape,” he says, and I wonder if he’s been abducted by aliens. I’m thin. I have always been thin, mainly because of great genetics, but also because I train like a beast and maintain a healthy diet. Never once have I had an issue with overindulgence or weight, so I can’t imagine why he would tell me I need to watch my diet. Even if I wasn’t naturally thin, curves are never a bad thing.

“The ahi is hardly a four-course meal,” I reply. “And besides, I ran four miles before I dressed this evening.”

Bobby gives me an approving look and hands our menus to the server, who looks happy to race away from our awkward confrontation.

“I’m not the bad guy here, Addie,” he says when we’re alone again. “You know how it is. They expect us to look a certain way.”

“And have I ever given

any indication that might be a struggle for me?” I ask.

“No,” he replies, looking chagrined. “But still, you know how they can be.”

“I do, but I’m fine. I promise.”

The server returns and opens a bottle of wine that probably costs too much money for what it tastes like, but it’s what Bobby wanted. I just take a sip, confident now that we’ve made it over some hurdle and we’ll be fine. But then he speaks again.

“You have to admit,” he says. “This is a perfect solution.”

I choke on the tart wine because I have no idea what he’s talking about but the pit yawning wide in my stomach has ideas about where he wants to lead this conversation.

“Pardon.”

“This,” he says, waving his hand between us as our salad course is placed on the table. “You and me.”

“Ah,” I reply. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m also not sure I want to ask.

“Now that we’re together,” he continues, “we can tell your dad there is no need for competition anymore.”

I’m so glad I was right about him. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders to not have to compete against my childhood friend for control of my family legacy. Together, we can run the company, side by side. I didn’t realize that was a dream of mine and yet, now that I’ve thought about it, I want to realize that dream of taking over with my husband as my partner. And if my husband just happens to be the best friend I have no sexual feelings for, so be it. We can still be happy, still have a great life.

“Yes.” I smile brightly at him.

I hated competing against him, it made me feel awful. I have no idea why my dad would push for that. Why he would pit us against each other. But now I get it. It was so we could find our way to each other. I feel so relieved.

“I’m so glad you agree, Adrienne.”