“HOW HARD IS IT TO train someone to bring people food?” Sabrina sneers, scowling at the timid young waitress as she walks away. “Really, where do they get these people?”
“Calm down,” I murmur back, looking across the room.
Thomas and Katie are seated at a small, black and white checkered tabletop in the same nice restaurant we’re in.
Calena’s is an Italian family bistro located about ten miles out of town. The place is known for their great service and unique decor. The establishment isn’t heavily marketed, meaning not a lot of out-of-towners know of its location. It’s rarely crowded, and there’s very little wait for food.
For the last twenty minutes, Thomas Dyer’s attention has been solely on his phone. He’s been flipping through screens or randomly typing. He hasn’t paid any attention to Katie, other than an occasional glance up. And as far as I’m able to tell, the two haven’t spoken a word.
Katie’s attention has been kept to the menu, as if it has the answers to every question she’s ever asked. And believe me, I know Katie Margret Morris, and the girl can ask a fuckload of them.
Tonight she’s wearing a one-piece black dress with black high-heeled shoes. Her blonde hair is up, her silver necklace and earrings on display. Her lips are painted red; she’s wearing too much makeup. From here it appears she’s trying too hard to get her husband’s attention.
Christ, but Thomas Dyer is a fucking idiot.
“Anyway,” Sabrina huffs, tossing a thick gathering of straight hair over her shoulder. “What do you think about all of this?”
Forcing focus, I sway my attention back to Sabrina. Ironically, my first thought is how easily it would be for a woman like her to bring any man to his knees. To have him worship the very ground her stilettos walked on. How, if given the opportunity, any decent man would jump at the chance to put his baby in her belly.
If only she wasn’t such a selfish bitch.
“What do I think about what?” I question.
Sabrina’s lips purse. “Cole, have you been listening to me?”
Not really.
The fact that I’d rather gaze across a dimly lit restaurant, staring at a married woman sitting with her husband, remembering how fucking good her body feels like under mine, tells me what I already knew. I’ve got to end whatever this is with Sabrina.
When she came to my house this evening, without invitation, I didn’t ask her in as she expected. I didn’t want her in my space. I offered to take her for a drink. She countered the offer for dinner. I agreed. Then she pushed for ‘dessert’ first, but I was in no mood.
I’d never made Sabrina wait for sex, and suffice it to say, she wasn’t big on delayed gratification.
“Sabrina, you’re not—”
Cutting me off, she reminds me of whatever the fuck I hadn’t heard before. “So, anyway. Tony is giving me the interview. I have to be in L.A. next Friday.”
Tony being her boss at the news station. Friday being too far away for her to have to leave.
“Congratulations,” I muster.
Smiling proudly, she explains, “I’ll be gone three weeks. I’m requesting a first-class flight and—”
Across the way, Thomas closes his phone and slides it into his suit front pocket. Another waitress passes his table and his focus doesn’t shift from her ass.
My jaw clenches. Fucking idiot.
“And I am not flying coach, as I’m going to—”
“Christ,” I clip, anger stirring.
Scowling, Sabrina snips, “What?”
Our waitress arrives, carrying a tray with our drinks. One beer for me, and a ridiculously complicated concoction that Sabrina insisted be made just for her.
“I’d love for you to come to L.A. with me,” Sabrina pushes forward, accepting the wide mouth glass from the waitress. “We could sightsee on the weekends.”
“I’ve seen L.A.,” I come back to the conversation. “And wasn’t impressed the first time.”
Sabrina glares, waving the waitress off. The young woman’s eyes come to mine and I force a reassuring smile. She forces an uncomfortable one in return then turns to leave.
Katie’s picking at her napkin as it lays over her crossed legs. The dress she’s wearing is short, the hem riding up her thigh. I ball my hand to fist, aching to inch the dress up further.
The waitress has gotten Thomas’ attention now, and by the looks of him, he hasn’t so much as noticed who he’s supposed to be with. The fuck.
“Oh my God!” Sabrina cries. “You’re not even listening!”
Fuck.
All heads turn toward our table. Katie’s included.
Thomas’ brow furrows and his eyes narrow, likely trying to figure out the reason for our commotion. Katie places her elbows to the table, crossing her hands and resting her chin to them. She’s caught sight of this and she’s watching, appearing to enjoy the impending show.
Sabrina continues on a tear, “What is wrong with you? You’ve been moping around for weeks. You don’t answer my calls. You don’t return my texts—”
Leaning forward, I drop the napkin to the table and hiss, “Keep your fuckin’ voice down.”
Sabrina’s lips thin and her eyes glaze in fury. Surely she saw this coming. And if not, I take no guilt on because she wasn’t smart enough to figure it out.
“We’re finished,” I clip, sifting through my back pocket for my wallet.
“Finally!” Sabrina returns, pushing her drink to the table.
She’s got this wrong. Of course. Sabrina’s not used to rejection. At least the kind I’m about to serve her.
“We’ll have to go back to your place,” she says. “Renovations aren’t done at mine. Those fucking people must think I have all the time in the world.”
To get her out of here quietly, I stand, grab her coat, and offer to put it on.
Happy to have my attention the way she wants it, Sabrina slides her arms through. I toss down enough bills to cover the tab and chance a look up.
Katie’s expression is no longer curious. With Thomas talking up the waitress that had passed by earlier, Katie sits in her chair at her table alone. She looks as ever—lost.
Sabrina interrupts our exchange, sliding her hand up my stomach to my chest. Purring, she coos, “I’m so glad you called. I’ve missed you.”
I didn’t call, I never do. And I haven’t missed her at all.
Honest to God, as dramatic and painful as the end of our relationship will be, Sabrina will have her shit out of my house by the night’s end.
Thank fuck.