Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Yes. Just let me text my friend Noelle and tell her I’m leaving,” she says, her eyes lighting up in a way that makes me want to kiss her.
But I can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.
But at least I get to talk to her, and considering what we have to talk about, the fact that I’m still excited about that says something.
I’m not sure what, but…definitely something.
fourteen
SYDNEY
“You call this a diner?” I mutter beneath my breath as we follow the hostess to a corner booth in what may be the cutest restaurant I’ve ever seen.
Gideon glances my way. “They serve pancakes.”
“They’re also serving adorable,” I say, glancing around. “I feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”
Tucked away on a side street in Alphabet City, Why Not Pie is decorated like the interior of a Bavarian cottage. Dark exposed timber stands out against the cream-colored walls, vintage ads in bright colors serve as wallpaper, and the wooden booths are filled with needlepoint pillows.
Once we’re seated, I pluck a pillow from beside me and hold it up for Gideon’s inspection. “It’s a T-Rex. In a teacup. Therefore, a Tea Rex. Color me delighted.”
He grins. “Pretty punny.”
“My favorite.” I set it beside me and pat the dapper T-Rex on the head before turning back to Gideon. Anxiety prickles across my skin at the tension still clear on his face. “Should we order? Or should you tell me whatever you’re going to tell me first? If it’s bad enough, I might have to leave, and I don’t want to order and dash.”
“You can dash whenever you want,” he says. “This is on me. I’ll stay and cover the bill.”
My stomach cramps. “That wasn’t comforting.”
He sighs and opens his menu. “The lemon souffle pancakes are my favorite, but the scrambles are excellent, as well. And the pie. I’m not much of a pie person, but if you are, they’re top-notch.”
“I had tacos at the party, so I think I’ll try the pancakes. I’m up for sharing some if you’re not super hungry.”
He sighs again. “I can’t tell if I’m hungry. My stomach is in knots.”
“Same,” I say, nibbling on my bottom lip. “We should share.”
He glances up, holding my gaze as he murmurs, “Sounds good.”
But it doesn’t. Nothing sounds good right now. I just want to know what’s going on. Being in the dark is killing me.
As soon as our waitress—a pink-cheeked woman in a green dirndl dress with flowers embroidered across the chest—takes our order for two coffees and a plate of the lemon souffle pancakes to share, I collect my fork from my cloth napkin and point it at Gideon’s chest. “Spill. What’s going on? I have to know. Now.”
He eyes the fork. “I’ve never been held at fork-point before. Should I be worried?”
“Not as long as you didn’t do something horrible,” I say, my worst fear bursting from my lips before I can stop it. “You’re married, aren’t you? You’re married and your wife was at that party and that’s why you were running out of there as fast as you could. Before you both ran into me, and you had to explain how we know each other.”
He frowns. “Why would you think that?”
“You weren’t surprised to see me,” I say in a softer voice. “When you turned around in the alley. You weren’t surprised. You already knew I was there.”
He threads his fingers together on top of the table. “I did. But I’m not married, and I wasn’t there with anyone. Everything I told you in Maine was true. I promise.”
I set the fork back on my napkin and drop my hands to my lap so Gideon can’t see me wring them as I add, “Then what’s wrong? You look like someone died.”
He winces. “Not someone, but maybe something.” He shakes his head. “I know we said seeing each other again was too complicated, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I guess some part of me thought… Hoped…”
“That we’d see each other again,” I whisper, my heart soaring when he nods. “Me, too. I know long-distance relationships are horrible, but…I’ve never felt this way about someone before, Gideon.”
Before I can work up the gumption to suggest dating might be worth trying, he stuns me into silence by asking, “Even with Adrian?”
I blink, my jaw dropping.
Mercifully, the waitress arrives with our coffees and two glasses of water, giving me a moment to pull myself together before I ask, “How? How did you know I dated Adrian?”
“Dated?” he asks, his gaze guarded “Past tense? Because it didn’t look very past tense when you two were together on the red carpet.”
Suddenly, it all makes sense. What he saw, what he must have thought. And of course, he knows Adrian in some way. He was at Adrian’s party.
I exhale, relief making my voice breathy as I say, “Oh God, yes. Totally past tense. We dated in college but broke up months before I left for Maine. I wasn’t even supposed to be at the party, but Adrian’s girlfriend broke up with him last night and he needed a last-minute replacement. His best friend is dating my best friend, so he was over at my place with them and asked if I’d be his plus-one. I said yes, but only as a favor to a friend.”