“Willa, wait. Please. Just…have dinner with me.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth gapes. “What?”
That smile. “I said have dinner with me. One meal. If for some reason you can’t bear to be in my presence, I’ll leave you alone.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting a whirlwind of responses. It’s not that I’m scared I won’t be able to bear his company, it’s that I won’t be able to let him walk away. My heart is too weak. My memories of us are always too fresh. How do I pretend? “I’m not—”
“Please?” A simple plea. One word that always got me to cave.
Please? Just one lap.
Please? Just one movie.
Please? Just one truth.
Before I can conjure up an excuse, my reply falls off my tongue. “Okay, fine.” Oh God, that wasn’t the no I’d planned on saying. “But I can’t stay too long. I have to get home.” He nods, thankful for my reply. Pulling out my phone, I text Carrie to let her know I’m running late. Thankfully, she replies with, “No problem.”
We walk together in silence down the busy sidewalk. Every so often, our hands brush against one another. Each connection is like a livewire, sparking up feelings I’ve fought so hard to bury deep down inside. When I can’t take it anymore, I stop to tell him this was a bad idea at the same time he turns and points to a neon sign. “It’s right here. A hidden Italian place. Best in town.” I look up, never noticing it before. “After you.” He allows me to go first and holds the door for me. Ashamed, I can’t help but inhale his cologne as I pass. My eyes flutter closed, memorizing the scent.
A small pudgy man in an apron approaches us as we enter the quaint restaurant “Ahhh, Mr. DuPont, lovely to see you this evening. Pleasure to have you dining with us again. And who is your beautiful guest you’ve brought in this time?” He reaches out to take my hand. I’m hesitant, but comply, and he cups my palm, kissing the top of my hand.
“Francisco, this is Willa.”
“A pleasure, Willa.” He raises his eyes to Jake. “You sure do have a good eye for the ladies.”
I jerk, pulling my hand away. He brings women here, and I’m no different. I back up, inhaling a sharp breath, but his hands are at my waist, his lips warming my earlobe. “Relax. I’ve only been here with a colleague. A platonic colleague.”
“Come, come. Let me get you seated.” He signals for us to follow, and my legs eventually unlock. One in front of the other, I train my feet to move and not concentrate too much on Jake’s hand resting on my lower back. When he pulls my seat out, I practically fall into it.
Jake settles into the chair across from me, weighing my mood. “So…how are you? How have you been—good? Healthy?” he stops, fidgeting with the napkin.
I’m torn between truth and lies. Confession or deceit. My mouth becomes dry, and I stall by taking a sip of water. “I’m good.” He exhales slowly, disheartened by my short answer. “And you? How are you?”
“Oh, well…good too…” Silence washes over us. My fingers begin to tap against the table as his tear at the napkin. “Okay, I don’t know why this is so nerve wracking. This isn’t us.”
My eyes stop bouncing off everything in sight and focus on him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this isn’t us. We’ve never been uncomfortable or nervous around one another. I don’t know what’s changed. But it has. Did I do something? Was it that night? Did I force you—”
“No.” I cut him off. I can’t bear to hear him tell me it was a mistake.
“Then tell me what’s wrong. Why did you disappear on me?”
“I didn’t disappear. I—” I was forced away. I had our baby. “I just had to get away.”
His face turns ashen at my reply. He opens and closes his mouth, wanting to say more, demand I tell him more, but he gives in. “Look, I’m sorry. For everything—”
I shoot up from the table, unable to hear it. “Wait, where are you going?” His voice is laced in confusion.
“I can’t sit here and listen to you tell me that night was a mistake. I just can’t.”
He reaches for my hand, the warmth of his fingers entwining through mine. Life sparks through my veins as his eyes pierce into mine. “Willa, if there is one thing in my life I will never regret, it’s that.” I inhale and exhale, needing to remind myself to breathe. “I’m sorry for what came after. I shouldn’t have left you alone that night. I should have told you right away. That night at the party…my father told me. I was furious. I was sick of being pulled left and right. Being my father’s pawn. And then getting told I was being shipped off to France…do you even know what that did to me?”
I remember how furious he was. “Then you showed up. You’ve always been this bright light in our dark world. For so long, I watched you, wishing things were different while knowing it was wrong to harbor all these feelings that kept me up at night. Then you came to me, and I knew it was now or never. It was in that moment I knew I either allowed you to see the feelings that had been suffocating me or walk away for good.”
His words spin too fast in my mind, and I latch onto the table for support. “Say something. Tell me you hate me or forgive me. Tell me you have a reason for cutting me out of your life so I can understand. Tell me you hate me for stealing your first time meant for someone else. But talk to me.”
“That night meant everything to me.” The first truth falls off my lips, along with a single tear. “You gave me so much. A memory that gave me strength. A moment that allowed me to fight the battles ahead of me—”
“What battles? Why’d you disappear?” I shake my head. Anger consumes my thoughts at my mother. At his. Two conniving witches consumed with societal expectations. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you go to school like you planned—”
“Because you weren’t going to be there. Because you made a promise and broke it, and I couldn’t be in a place filled with deceit.” I can’t. I can’t do this. I rip my hand away from his and run from the table. Pushing through the restaurant doors, I take off down the deserted sidewalk when two hands reach for me and whip me around, pulling me into the alley.
Jake’s plush lips collide against mine, our unexpected connection bruising and demanding. He pushes me up against the cold brick building, and I fight him off, but not because I don’t want him, because I’m too angry, too hurt. My fingers clutch around his dress shirt, and I suddenly find myself tugging him closer instead of shoving him away. My hands tremble as I slide them up and around his neck, deepening our kiss. “Fuck, Willa. Was I wrong? Did I read us wrong? Was it all in my head that you and I—”
“No, it was all real.” I pull at his hair as his hands work up my dress. “I wanted you. I loved you.” He nips at my lower lip.
“Loved. Past tense?” His lips work down my neck, his hands disappearing beneath the fabric of my panties. I moan at his touch, aching to feel him once again, replace my fantasies with reality. “Tell me…tell me what you’re thinking. It’s just us now. No one standing in our way.”