What if Andrew and Annie were to find out what was going on without me telling them? It’d be a disaster, simple as that. They’d both decide I was a liar, that I’d held something back from them they had a right to know. And hell, they’d be right.
So, I had to plan their meeting while it was still in my power to determine the specifics.
Three ties were laid out on the California King bed. I considered the three of them, trying to take my mind for a brief moment off my other decision. I went with the Hermes tie, red and blue stripes. Once that was in hand, I stepped in front of the mirror and began to tie it.
I could tell Andrew first. As soon as that option presented itself, however, I knew it wasn’t the correct course of action. Andrew was possessive and controlling, wanting things just so. He might’ve been the one to pull the trigger on their relationship, but that didn’t mean he’d be happy to find out I was dating his ex.
In his mind, when he’d ended things, he finished the relationship exactly like he’d wanted. It was done, filed away, never to be thought of again. But the more he talked about Annie, the more it seemed he was having second thoughts about what he’d done.
I was hopeful that I’d put him off of it the other night, but it was still niggling at the back of my brain.
If I were to tell him I was dating her, that I’d known I’d wanted to date her for quite some time, that might represent an element of chaos that he wouldn’t be prepared for.
It wouldn’t work. He’d freak out, maybe even cut me out of his life.
I finished the knot of my tie, pulling it straight over my dress shirt. Then I shook my head and sighed. But I would have to tell him. Andrew would have to be eased into it. And more importantly, Annie would have to be on my side when it happened.
I’d have to tell her first, I decided. I’d have to tell her about Andrew and me, and I’d have to tell her the truth – I’d known about her, I’d been crazy about her, and I’d engineered things to make it so we’d eventually meet.
She might be put off by it all and reject me. But not if I made sure we were in love when I made the revelation.
And like Andrew, I’d have to ease her into the truth.
Starting that night.
When I was dressed and ready to go, I picked up my phone on the nightstand and fired off a text to Annie letting her know I was on my way. Her response was OK! with a smiling emoji. I tucked my phone into my pocket, grabbed my keys, and slipped on my pea coat before heading out.
The evening was cold, the air still and crisp. My breath puffed in front of me as I pulled my leather gloves tight around my wrists. I’d parked in front on the way back, so my car was waiting for me. Soon I was on my way, eager to see Annie. My enthusiasm was unexpected. I’d known I’d been looking forward to seeing her, but I hadn’t been ready for just how thrilled I was at the idea of it.
It made something clear as day in my mind, something I couldn’t screw up when it came to the situation at hand.
And that night I’d have to make some headway in her knowing about my situation. I couldn’t throw her into the deep end of the pool, of course – that’d be far too much for her to take all at once. But I had to say something. Even if I started small.
I arrived at her apartment, climbed out of my car as I sent her a text to let her know I’d arrived. I looked her building up and down, noting how shabby and run-down it was. I wasn’t a snob about those kinds of things, of course. I’d come from very humble circumstances, and the first several years of my adult life while I’d gone to school had been spent in similar buildings.
It was more that Annie was sharp, brilliant. There was no reason a woman like her shouldn’t be able to use the talents she had to make her mark on the world and earn a fortune in the process.
Maybe I’d be able to help her along. I had no doubt her relationship with Andrew had left her feeling uncertain about herself. Possibly I could help put her on the right course.
The door opened, and as always, I was taken aback by how beautiful she was. A fur-lined coat was pulled tight around her curvy figure, and her green eyes shown as brilliantly as always in the low evening light.
“Hey,” she said, coming up to me.
“Hey.” I could tell she wasn’t sure how to greet one another. No doubt she was going back and forth in her mind, wondering if it was appropriate to say hello with a kiss or if that’d be too familiar. And seeing as how there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss her, I was happy to make the decision.
I leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, savoring how they felt, how they tasted against mine. Damn, did I want to take her right back into the apartment, like I always did.
“Come on,” I said, instead putting my hand on the small of her back and leading her to the car, opening the door for her. “We’re celebrating tonight.”
“That we are,” she said with a blushing smile.
Once the doors were shut, I started the car. But I didn’t drive. “Now,” I said. “I usually like to take care of the dinner plans. But tonight’s an exception.”
“Is that right?” she asked, curious.
“That’s right. Tonight’s your call. You want steak, I know a great place in Denver. You want foie gras, I’m friends with one of the best chefs in the state. You want—”
“Tacos.”
“Excuse me?”
There was total confidence in her voice. “I get to pick, and I pick tacos. The greasier and cheaper, the better.
I laughed at how serious she was being about the subject. “Alright, tacos it is. Maybe a margarita or two?”
“Sounds like heaven.”
“Good. I know just the place.”
El Aquila was one of my favorite taco joints in Colorado, only a short drive out of town. We arrived at the neon-festooned place, the logo on the sign an eagle wearing a sombrero, a taco in his claws, and a smile on his beak.
“Oh my God,” she said, stopping and taking in the sight. “This is perfect.”
“You want cheap tacos,” I said with a grin. “Then you’re getting cheap tacos. And they’re good cheap tacos.”
“Even better.” She grabbed my hand and we hurried into the restaurant, me holding the door open for her.
The space was wide open, only a few tables taken. I led her to a booth, the smell of cooking pork thick in the air, upbeat music on the juke box.
“Oh, wow,” she said once the menus were given to us. “All-you-can-eat tacos?” She closed the menu and set it down confidently. “I know what I’m getting.”
“Same here,” I said with a grin. “Whoever eats the most doesn’t pay.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she looked me up and down, as if scanning me to see how many I could put away.
“Joking,” I said. “No way you could eat more than me.”
“I don’t know,” she mused thoughtfully. “You haven’t seen me at work.”
The waiter arrived and we ordered, starting off with a couple of oversized margaritas and a trio of al pastor tacos.
“Anyway,” I said, the waiter quickly returning with the drinks and placing them on the table. “There’s no way I’d let you pay even if you did eat more tacos than me – which you wouldn’t, by the way. We’re celebrating, remember?”