Paul’s sweetness killed her. They were on their third date. She’d met him on a dating app Olivia forced her to download to “get her mind off Blake,” and he seemed like the perfect man—handsome, kind, and smart, the type who would never break her heart. But as much as Farrah enjoyed hanging out with him, their chemistry was more tepid than a two-day-old cup of coffee. When they kissed, she felt nothing. No fireworks, no butterflies, no racing pulse.
“Do you want to grab something to eat?” Paul asked. “There’s a 24-hour diner around here that’s supposed to be good.”
Farrah’s exhaustion battled with her hunger.
Hunger won.
“Okay.” Nothing eased her worries like a good burger and milkshake.
As they ambled down the sidewalk, Farrah’s mind ran a mile a minute, trying to figure out her next move.
Should she break up with Paul or continue to wait, hoping she’d develop stronger feelings over time? They weren’t dating dating, per se, but they weren’t not dating either. She didn’t want to string him along and prevent him from meeting someone else who could give him the love and attention he deserved.
But Farrah’s selfish side feared what would happen if she let Paul go. It would open up a void in her life, and here was the thing about voids: they must be filled. Good, bad, it didn’t matter, as long as there was something there to appease it.
Farrah had a sinking feeling she knew what would fill that void post-Paul, and she wasn’t ready to face it. Not yet.
I’m a terrible person.
“Oh, wow.” Paul sounded awed. “Is that who I think it is?”
Farrah followed his gaze and saw the so-hot-it-should-be-illegal male model Zane stumbling into a taxi with a pixie-faced actress known for playing quirky, offbeat characters in indie movies. But that wasn’t what caught her attention.
No, it was the name of the bar they were stumbling out of: Legends.
Blake’s bar.
She’d known Legends was near the venue where she and Paul caught a late-night standup comedy show, but the sight still threw her for a loop. The building might as well have Blake’s face stamped on it, smirking down at her.
Farrah tightened her grip on Paul’s hand. Tonight was Legends’ opening party. She’d read all about it in the latest issue of City Style, which ran a multi-page feature on Blake, his business, and his lifestyle as a handsome, successful bachelor in New York City.
She’d been ashamed to find herself leafing through Blake’s feature at night, after Olivia had gone to bed, her heart aching at the sight of his smile and confident, relaxed posture. At least, that was what most people saw. Farrah noticed the touch of tenseness in his shoulders and the fact that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
For all his success, Blake was hurting.
It’s none of my business.
If Blake wanted to run and suffer alone, far be it from Farrah to stop him.
“C’mon, let’s go.” She tugged on Paul’s hand. “I’m starving.”
They made it five steps before a deep, familiar voice stopped them in their tracks. “Farrah.”
Her name drifted through the air, whispered with the reverence of one who had seen the ghost of a loved one.
Farrah was tempted to keep walking, but Paul gave her a gentle nudge. “I think he’s talking to you.”
Coincidence, you’re a bitch. You know that?
Farrah steeled herself and turned around. All the breath rushed out of lungs when saw Blake standing there, looking so earth-shatteringly gorgeous she wished she had paints and a canvas so she could immortalize him for all eternity.
Blake wore a pair of dark blue jeans, a tailored black blazer, and a crisp white dress shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and trim waist. His tousled blond hair shone beneath the lights like a halo, but his eyes were pure sin: pools of blue crystalline that entranced you, sucking you under their spell without you realizing until it was too late.
He was a god descended from the heavens, Apollo made flesh, and no matter how much time had passed, Farrah’s body reacted the same way it always did: whimpering, purring, straining, like a needy animal desperate to return to its owner.
Her mind, thankfully, shut it down before her knees turned to jelly and she collapsed on the sidewalk in a pool of lust and heartbreak.
“Hello.” Her cold, formal tone displayed zero emotion. Farrah silently congratulated herself on the feat. “Fancy seeing you here.”