It feels right to be comforting her. I see the anger in her eyes and know the feeling well. I’ve raged against the unfairness of it for longer than I care to admit. And while I find comfort that she feels the same way, I feel bad that she’s now facing the frustration I’ve felt. I wouldn’t wish it on an enemy, much less someone who’s pretty fucking amazing.

Because she is.

As she stares at my hand on hers, I see the excitement in her expression taking over and shoving the anger right out the way. When her gaze meets mine, I feel that same crash of desperation and need I felt before from her.

It’s sexy as hell.

I pull back, needing to get ahold of myself.

“They were both wrong,” Jane says, her voice so low and gentle I almost miss the words.

I take a bite of steak, waiting for her to elaborate.

“They should have worked it out,” she says, picking up a fry and studying it like it’s harboring the plague. She seems to be enjoying her food; she’s eaten half the steak and a huge chunk of the fries. I love that she has an appetite. Her eyes tick to me as she continues speaking. “Both adults should have worked it out. He shouldn’t have ran; he should have forced her to get help to get clean and sober.”

I stare at her in shock. It’s like I’m having a conversation with a much more attractive – and female – version of myself.

“That’s what I told them,” I say, “that Olivia was the most important thing, not their stupid addictions or petty issues. That little girl needed both parents. She needed them to work together and be the fucking adults in that situation.”

Her smile lights up her face. “So, how long are you going to be here, Connor?” She asks while taking another bite of her salad. She’s taken to dipping bites of steak in the blue cheese dressing and I can’t help but love it. She gives zero fucks about what everyone else might think; she’s fucking enjoying herself.

“Until I decide to leave,” I say and her whole body stills except her eyes, which study me closely. “I think I’ll stay the rest of the week,” I say, wanting to make sure she knows I’m not just blowing her off.

“Me, too,” She says, her whole body moving as she shifts in her seat and smiles up at the waitress who pops by to refill our drinks and asks me how the food is. “It was great!” She tells the woman, who continues to ignore her.

“The food was amazing,” I tell her, noticing how her eyes light up. “However, your continued rude attitude to my date leaves me feeling like I need to speak with your boss about how you treat customers.” I lift my glass to my lips, refusing to even look at her.

My chilly dismissal seems to leave her stunned and confused. It dawns on me that perhaps guys enjoy being the only one she sees. Perhaps she knew Jane wasn’t the kind to stand up for herself. Or maybe she just doesn’t give a fuck.

Whatever the reason, it seems to change. She turns to Jane with a soft, “I’m sorry,” and a smile that’s pretty, yet not genuine.

“Me, too,” Jane says, her genuine voice a relief as she speaks. “I didn’t take into account that maybe you’ve had a bad day. I hope that everything is going well for you.”

Jane looks at me and says, “What? Everyone has bad days. We don’t know that she isn’t having a bad day.”

The waitress escapes and I see tears in her eyes. Startled, I glance at Jane, who lifts her shoulders a fraction of an inch. “When Zac cheated on me, I hated all women. I wanted to hit on all guys to feel better. I wanted to know I was still attractive.”

“He cheated on you?” Holy hell; how was she still with him?

She nods like it’s something everyone knows. “It sounds stupid, I know, but I feel that daddy’s going to be disappointed in me; he likes him.”

“I doubt it.” A good father would support his daughter regardless of his own feelings. And I bet that’s what happened here. But Jane shrugs again, clearly not agreeing with me.

“I think he wants you to be happy,” I say, imagining how Kieran feels about Olivia, how I feel about my niece. Even if I hated her boyfriend – thank fucking god she’s too young for that shit – I’d want her to be happy.

“Maybe,” Jane says, still not sounding sold. She nibbles through her salad and I study her. “I don’t normally eat-” she looks up at me the words cutting short. “What?” she asks, sounding out of breath. Her eyes are wide and worried, as if she’s nervous what I’m thinking.

“I’m enjoying myself,” I tell her, feeling a bit of surprise. Generally, people annoy me. There’s a reason I have a policy of love ‘em and leave ‘em. Typically, if someone near me talks for more than two minutes, I want to wring their necks.

People are generally stupid, rude, or shallow. Jane is none of that. Sure, she’s far from perfect, but her ability to talk and stay civil even when things seem ugly is something I admire.

“Me, too,” She says, her smile lighting up her face. Then, as if she remembers the pretense we’re here under, her expression seems to dim a bit. She lowers her head and looks at her plate, shifting a fry that got surrounded and drowned in steak blood.

It’s heartbreaking to see her remember that she’s not here on a date. That I forced this against her will. That we can never come back from where we stared. It’s heartbreaking to experience. Even if I fell in love with this girl, I could never be part of her life. I fucking kidnapped her, forced her to talk about the other girl I’d kidnapped. There’s no coming back from that. There’s no trust that can be built to withstands the fear that I may betray her at some point in the future.

It’s all a god damned shame.