Chapter Twenty-Three

Harper

“I'm sorry, Mr. Rossi,” the hostess says. “But your reservation was over an hour ago. We had to give your table away.”

Rob's face is tight and growing red and he's getting visibly agitated.

“Look, something came up,” he says. “I'm sorry that we're late, but –”

“I'm truly sorry,” she says, her expression saying she's anything but. “There really is nothing I can do.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. I'm standing behind him a bit, and he's pitching his voice low, perhaps hoping that I can't hear – or see how upset he's getting. But, I can see and hear everything.

“May I speak with your manager, please,” he asks, his voice tight with anger.

“Sir, I'm sorry –”

“Your manager,” he says. “Now. Please.”

The girl rolls her eyes and walks away. He turns to me and gives me a tight smile, a look of absolute mortification on his face. I want to tell him that it's fine. It's no big deal. But I can see in his eyes that it's not okay – not to him, anyway.

A middle-aged man with graying hair and thick glasses walks up to the lobby, the hostess trailing right behind him with an arrogant, smug look on her face. The man gives Rob a sympathetic smile.

“My name is Wayne and I'm the manager. Abby has told me about your situation,” the man says. “And unfortunately, we are completely booked this evening. I truly am sorry, Mr. Rossi.”

Rob pulls a money clip stuffed with bills out of his pocket and peels a couple of them off, offering them to Wayne. My eyes grow wide – from where I'm standing, they look like hundreds.

“It's not a question of money,” Wayne says, declining to take the bills. “We simply don't have the space.”

Not deterred in the least, Rob peels off a couple more bills. “We'll take the worst table you have, Wayne,” he says. “Please. You have to help me out here.”

Wayne shakes his head. “I truly am sorry, Mr. Rossi,” he says. “But we don't have a single table we can offer you.”

Rob looks apoplectic and fearing that he might lash out, I quickly step forward and put a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He looks at me and immediately, I see some of the anger drain out of his face. He just looks – sad. Defeated.

“It's okay,” I say loud enough for Wayne to hear. “Come on, we'll go somewhere else. I heard this place is crap and full of self-important jerks anyway.”

“I'm truly sorry, once again,” Wayne says. “Perhaps, we can book you a table for tomorrow.”

With my hand on his arm, I'm leading Rob out of the restaurant, but call back over my shoulder to good ol' Wayne.

“No, thanks,” I say. “I think I'd rather eat at McDonald's. At least I know those people won't have a stick up their butts.”

We step out onto the sidewalk and into the cool ocean air of the evening. Rob looks at me and I look back at him. Our gazes are locked for a moment and then we just start giggling hysterically. It takes a few moments to calm down and for the laughter to fade.

“McDonald's?” he asks. “Really?”

I shrug. “Who doesn't like a Big Mac now and then?”

I link my arm through his and we walk down the sidewalk. I take a deep breath, savoring the smell of the ocean air. Up ahead a ways, I see lights and what looks like carnival rides.

“What's that?” I ask.

“The Santa Monica pier,” he replies.

“There's a Ferris wheel on it.”

He nods. “That's right,” he says. “I forget that this is probably your first time here.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Landon and I didn't get out often when we got here.”

I've thought about Landon quite a bit over my time at Rob's house. And the one thing that's stood out to me the most is that he hasn't tried to contact me. Not once. I don't know what business he's handling, but I would have thought he wasn't so busy that he'd at least be able to call me.

But, he hasn't. Not one word. It's as if I'm just out of sight, out of mind to him.

The one thing the distance between us has given me though, is clarity. I've had more than enough time to think about things and I've realized something important. All this time, I've thought that I was in love with Landon. And, while I can't deny that I developed feelings for him over our time together, I now realize that those feelings aren't quite as intense as I thought them to be.

I think that because he was really, my only human contact in New York, and I was with him all day, every day, rarely out of his sight, I let myself believe that those feelings ran deeper than they actually do.

Because the one thing I can say with absolute certainty is that I don't miss him like I should. If I were truly in love with him, I would be missing him so much that I'd make myself sick. But, I don't. More than that, if I really did love him, I wouldn't be feeling what I feel for Rob – not that I fully understand what it is I'm feeling for him at the moment.

The point though, is that if I really loved Landon the way I thought I did, the way I let myself believe, there wouldn't be room for anybody else in my heart. Not saying that I'm in love with Rob, but there's something there. It's undeniable to me. And it feels different from what I felt for Landon. Somehow, it feels more honest. More open. And more genuine.

Now, I don't know what any – or all of it – means yet. But, I know myself well enough to know it means something. And it's worth taking my time to sort through. To turn over every rock in my mind and figure it out. I owe that much to myself.

We stop on the sidewalk and Rob turns to me, an absolutely tortured look in his eyes. It pulls at my heart and I feel terrible for him. His bodyguards remain an unobtrusive distance behind us, but they're still back there. Although, strangely enough, I'm starting to get used to having them around.

“I'm so sorry,” he says softly.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

He nods. “I wanted to give you a special night out,” he says. “I wanted to make it perfect for you.”

I give him a gentle smile. “You know what I think was perfect?”

“Not tonight,” he says with a rueful chuckle.

“Last night,” I say. “Just you and me standing there talking. Sharing. Believe it or not, just hanging out in your kitchen getting to know each other – that was pretty perfect to me.”

“Really?” he asks, his voice colored with disbelief. “But, that wasn't anything special. That was just –”

“I'm a simple girl, Rob,” I say. “I don't need big and fancy to be happy. Spending quality time with somebody – that's pretty special to me.”

He looks at me skeptically. “Are you sure you're not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Cross my heart,” I say.

“Thank you, Harper.”

I shake my head. “No, thank you,” I say. “Everything today has been amazing. I mean, the dresses, the spa, it was all so unexpected and wonderful.”

I look down at the dress – still not believing how much it cost – and smile. I can honestly say I've never felt more beautiful in my life. I feel like a princess.

“You deserve it, Harper,” he says. “You deserve nothing but wonderful things in life.”

I cock my head at him. “But you barely know me.”

“I've always had a good sense about people,” he says. “And I can see that you're a woman with a tremendous heart and spirit. I can see that you are a wonderful, caring person. So, why wouldn't you deserve good things?”

I feel my cheeks flush and I have to look away from him. “Thank you,” I say softly.

He sighs, pulls out his phone, and starts working on it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I'm looking for another restaurant that we can go to,” he says. “I mean, we're already dressed up and all.”

“I have a better idea,” I say.

He looks at me curiously as I link my arm through his again and lead him across the street to the pier. It's crowded with tourists and loud with the buzz of their conversation, but I like the energy of the place. It's not as frenetic as New York, it's definitely much more laid back – very stereotypical of Southern California – but it's still got a vibrancy that I love.

Something else I love is that even though Rob and I are dressed to the nines, nobody even gives us a second glance. No disapproving stares or judgmental glances. A couple of people in formal eveningwear blend into the crowd on the pier as seamlessly as people in shorts and flip-flops.

“I can't believe there's a roller coaster on the end of the pier,” I say.

“Yeah, but it's not like a real roller coaster,” he says. “More like a baby roller coaster.”

I laugh. “Yeah, but it's on a pier,” I say. “Over the ocean.”

“Come on,” he says, giving me a smile.

I let Rob lead me over to the roller coaster. He buys us each a ticket and we don't have to wait too long before we're able to climb aboard. I grip his arm as the car carries us up the hill to the first drop and then scream as we drop, my stomach fluttering and my heart racing. It's a pretty short ride, and he's right that it's not one of those monster coasters, but it's still unique. It's still fun.

“Okay, that was seriously awesome,” I say as we get off the ride.

Rob smiles at me, his mood a thousand times lighter than it had been in that restaurant – which makes me happy. We wander around the pier, playing games, and swapping stories about our lives. The laughter comes as easy as the conversation, and it's like we just picked up where we'd left off the night before.

There's just a natural ease between us that I've never experienced with somebody before. It's comforting in a way I've never known – not even with Landon. The more I'm around Rob, the more I feel my guard coming down. The more open and honest I am. The more I feel like I can just be me and that it's okay.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“Starving.”

Rob leads me over to a big pink food truck whose specialty is apparently, gourmet hot dogs. I look at him skeptically and then laugh.

“Trust me, I know,” he says. “But this place – the actual storefront, not the truck – is an LA landmark. And their dogs are great.”

I shrug. “Hey, I'm game.”

He smiles and I stare at the menu, laughing at the corny names, but feel my stomach growing restless. I'm almost certain the growling can be heard over the buzz of the crowd. I tell Rob what I want and he places our order. A few minutes later, food in hand, we manage to find a table near the railing of the pier.

I stare out at the ocean, watch the moon sparkle off the surface of the water. The moonlight makes the white foam of the breaking waves almost seem to glow with an inner silvery light. It's absolutely magical and I have to pinch myself to remind myself that no, this isn't a dream. I'm really here in Southern California. This really is my life.

I take a bite of my hot dog that's layered in onion rings, barbecue sauce, and bacon – and am shocked that it's surprisingly good. I nod appreciatively as I chew and look up at Rob, smiling.

“Color me surprised,” I say.

“See? Just gotta keep an open mind about these things.”

I laugh and take another bite. We eat, enjoy the evening air – and each other.