I shot him a plain look. “We are out on a Wednesday night.”
“Proves my point.”
My phone vibrated, and as I glanced at the screen, my heart stopped. A text message from Kyle.
The pull between relief he’d reached out, and dread over his ‘we need to talk’ statement threatened to tear me in two. I swallowed thickly and tapped out a response.
I glanced up at Grant. “It’s Kyle. He wants to talk, and he says he’s already at my place.”
“You need to take off just now?” he said, his tone casual. “It’s okay.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to ditch you, and this is the second time I’ve done it. He’s not more important than our friendship. I don’t want you thinking I’m blowing you off, but—”
“It quite all right. I know that’s not what you’re doing.” He smiled softly. “Talking for you two is good. I understand you need to.”
Of course he did. “You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”
Grant’s deep laugh was warm. “See if you still think so when I say you’re picking up my tab.”
I smiled and thumbed out a response to Kyle.
Hopefully sooner if we could get the server’s attention. Assuming things could be smoothed over between Kyle and me, I’d make introducing him to my friend a priority.
As the front door of the bar swung open, it no longer became necessary.
Kyle stepped inside and his gaze swept over the crowd before settling on me all the way at the back. Had he come straight from the office? It seemed like he wore a suit beneath his long dress coat. There was a scarf knotted around his neck and the ends tucked inside the coat. He shifted the manila envelope he was carrying from one hand to the other as he tugged off his black leather gloves, shoved them in a pocket, and approached the table.
His gaze never wavered from mine, and my breath hitched. His expression was stoic. A total fucking enigma. I couldn’t tell if he was happy to see me, or ready to get this over with.
I knew how I felt, though.
The air crackled with sparks. I leaned subtly forward in my seat, my body aching to be just a little closer to him. It was snowing outside, and the dusting of snowflakes melted on his hair, glinting in the low light.
When he was close enough to reach out and touch, his attention jumped from me to Grant, and his shoulders snapped back. His eyes narrowed sharply. The ends of his mouth turned down into a scowl, like he was pissed off just at the sight of my friend.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I gasped. Kyle’s tone was adversarial, announcing he viewed this other man as a threat. Did he think Grant and I were here on a date?
The booth was elevated, so Grant swiveled in his seat, put his feet on the ground and rose to his full, impressive height. “That’s funny, coming from you. I’m the one who’s been around for the last five years after you left without saying a single word to her.”
Kyle’s chest lifted as he took in a deep breath, but otherwise there was no reaction from him; he wasn’t intimidated. His face was blank. A duck floating calmly on water, where no one but me could see the feet beneath the surface churning furiously.
“The question is, who are you?” Grant said. “Besides the guy who broke her heart?”
There were other sounds in the bar, but I couldn’t hear them now. All that filled my ears was the sound of Kyle’s sharp inhale. His focus shifted away from the enormous man and found me.
I stood from my seat. “Kyle, this is my friend Grant.”
Kyle looked at me with total disbelief, like I was nuts. “You said he plays cello.”
“I do.” Grant was visibly annoyed.
Kyle had probably pictured a slight, dorky looking guy, but Grant was the opposite. There’d been plenty of times he’d been practicing at home, drawing the bow across the strings while nursing a black eye from rugby.
Kyle’s gaze bounced from mine, to Grant, and back again, as if needing confirmation. I nodded.
“Well, shit.” Kyle looked sheepish. “You’re on her wall, and I thought you two were . . . Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.” He thrust his hand forward. “Let’s start again. I’m Kyle.”