Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Lucy.” He says my name before giving Eden a goodbye. She gives me a thumbs-up behind his back. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He holds his hand out.
“Does Eden talk that much about me?” I laugh while taking his hand. There is no spark. Nothing. When Wyatt and I touch there is always a rush of emotions. It’s addictive. Everything about him is.
Stop, Lucy. You’re on a date here. Focus.
“Sometimes, but I see you in here a lot, but you always have your head down working on your laptop. I can never grab your attention.” That’s kind of sweet. How terrible is it that I can’t really remember him? He should be memorable. He’s tall with brown hair and bright blue eyes. He’s handsome, but I feel nothing.
“Sorry. I can get lost in work sometimes.” Or reading trashy tabloids. It’s a vice of mine. One that Wyatt lets me go on and on to him about. He likely knows more about celebrities than he wants to.
“I can understand that.” He motions for us to head out. We make small talk about our jobs as we walk down the street to the Italian place I love. I debate telling him this isn't going to work. I feel bad that I’m going to make him sit through dinner when I already know I’m not into him.
I decide not to. I force myself to try. I need to give this a chance. He helps me out of my coat before he pulls my chair out for me, and I take a seat.
“Where’s Wyatt?” Donna the hostess asks as she hands us each a menu.
“Work,” I say quickly. Her eyes bounce between Mark and me. “This is my date, Mark.” I introduce them. She doesn't bother to look at him. I’m pretty sure she is staring at me.
“You and Wyatt broke up?” She folds her arms over her chest.
“No, we’re friends.”
“Right.” She smirks and I know she’s up to something.
Chapter Five
Wyatt
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Lucy is at our table, eating at our spot, with some random washed-up dude with enough gel in his hair to light the whole place on fire if he gets too close to a candle.
“Thanks for calling, Donna.” I slide her a Benjamin. “How long has this been going on?”
“First time I’ve seen her here since the disastrous date she had with the tree guy.”
“Leif. The water guy.”
Donna nods. “Right. He’s the one that spilled soup on her pink silk dress and then tried to wipe it off with the napkin, only it was the tablecloth. Everything went tumbling to the ground and some of the leftover soup splashed onto Mrs. Garrity III, and that was the last anyone ever saw of tree guy.”
Mrs. Garrity III is the social director of the city. If she hates you, just move.
“Anyway, figured you would want to know if Lucy was stepping out on you.” Donna shakes her head. “Feels bad to see how you two kids can’t make it. How are the rest of us supposed to have hope?”
“Donna? I’m going to need my money back.”
She stashes it under her reservation book. “No can do. Better go save your girl before she falls in love with someone else.”
I clench my jaw and walk over to the table, snagging a spare chair on my way. I flip it around and drop into the seat. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up with office shit.” I cock my head toward Brad/Chad/Thad. I’m sure that his name falls within those parameters. “And who is this?”
“What are you doing here, Wyatt?” Lucy hisses.
I grab a roll from the basket in the middle and butter a piece of bread for her. “Feeding you, I guess. Thanks, Donna.” She arrives with a menu and a glass of wine.
“Thought you’d need this,” she murmurs before floating away.
More like I’m going to need the whole bottle. I snap open my menu and scan the contents without really registering anything. I always get the same thing—chicken piccata. Lucy orders the pasta Bolognese, and then she eats half and I eat half. I think about her sharing half of her meal with this blowhard, and the urge to shove the plastic menu down his throat crashes over me like a wave.
“I think you’re at the wrong table,” Mr. Finance says. I know he’s in finance. It might be the pocket square, but overall, he just looks like he’s involved in some hedge fund that I’ve sued in the past.
“I don’t think so. Lucy is here, and when Lucy eats at this place, so do I. I guess if you want to join us, it’ll be okay. We’re going to talk about The Bachelor, though, so I hope you’ve been watching the past twenty-five seasons.” I flick my napkin in the air with an audible snap before letting it fall to my lap.