Chapter One
This is what comes from using a damn dating site.
The miserable thought came at the same time as a dull throb from an oncoming headache. I approached the maître d’ of the sleek Financial District restaurant.
“I’m meeting Evan Halifax,” I said.
His skeptical gaze dropped over my secondhand wool coat and my cheap flats. In a fit of rebellion, I’d changed at the last second before leaving my rented room located in Central Sunset. Not completely: I still wore the only decent black dress I owned. I’d take off the Cartier earrings Evan had given me, of course.
It was time to stop pretending that this thing between Evan and me was real.
The maître d’s stare finally met mine. A knowing, slimy smile spread on his thin face.
“Of course, mademoiselle. Mr. Halifax has been waiting,” he said, waving gracefully. I skewered him with my stare. I knew what he was thinking. A guy like Evan Halifax had enough money, looks, and charm to have as many hot, clueless young blondes in his bed as he wanted. You don’t know anything, you smug French snot, I thought bitterly. You don’t know anything at all.
His smirk wavered. He turned. I followed him through the crowded but subdued restaurant. True luxury was never boisterous. That was something I’d learned in the past eight weeks, dating Evan.
He stood when I approached the table, as he always did. My heart tightened in my chest at the vision of his tall form and his familiar rugged, strong face. He was dressed impeccably, as usual, in a black suit with a muted gold tie. Looking up at him, I tried to avoid his gray eyes. My gaze landed instead on his starched white collar. It made such an appealing contrast to his tanned skin and the crisply trimmed line of his dark hair.
I resisted a wild urge to cry. Or run like hell.
“Is everything all right?” His lips brushed my cheek. “You’re cold, Anna.”
I felt his warm breath on my skin, and experienced that inevitable draw… that predictable desire. Annoyance bubbled up in me. It wasn’t fair that an attraction could be so hideously one-sided.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m late. The bus was behind schedule, and I had to walk a ways to get here,” I said, pulling my hand away from his.
“Didn’t you have any cash for a cab?” he asked, taking his seat across from me.
“I did,” I told him, waiting until the waiter poured me a glass of sparkling water and walked away. “I actually have quite a bit of your money. It’s been accumulating,” I said, holding up my evening bag, a receptacle of my guilt. The sapphire earrings were in there as well. I faltered, thinking of the moment when he’d slipped that leather box into my hand the other night.
“I thought they’d match your eyes.”
I’d been flying.
“Anna?”
“I have it all here. I’ll give it back to you after dinner. I mean… if you still want to have dinner. Maybe you won’t,” I mused, distressed I hadn’t thought of this detail.
His dark brows scrunched together, but otherwise, his face remained stony. “Why wouldn’t I want to have dinner?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my already thin courage going completely transparent.
“I gave you that money to use for incidentals, like getting to our dates. I know you don’t have extra cash for things like that. I didn’t mean to offend by giving it to you. But I have, haven’t I?” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing on my face.
“There was nothing offensive about you offering it.”
“There was nothing offensive about you accepting it, either. Maybe it’s selfish on my part, but I don’t want to make things harder on you in order for us to see each other.”
“Evan—”
My evening bag buzzed. I pulled out my cell and clumsily knocked my bag onto the booth seat. When I saw who was calling, I swiped to ignore it.
“My sister. I’ll call her later,” I said, leaning over to retrieve the bag from the seat.
“You and your sister look alike?” he asked. I realized he’d seen my sister’s photo on the screen when she called—or at least he’d glimpsed a brief, upside-down version of it.
“Some people say we do. I don’t see it much,” I replied, both frustrated and relieved to be sidetracked from breaking up with him. I slipped my phone back in my purse and set it aside. The waiter arrived with a bottle of chardonnay.
“Jessica’s only a year and a half younger than I am,” I said after the waiter had poured and left. “We both have blonde hair. I think that’s where most of the similarity begins and ends, though. Everybody thinks young blondes look alike, right?” I muttered sarcastically under my breath. I took a healthy swallow of the chilled chardonnay. Evan pinned me in place with his stare, his eyebrows arched slightly. I felt my cheeks go warm and carefully placed the wine glass on the table.
“Go ahead. Get if off your chest. Tell me what’s bothering you, Anna.”
Unable to repress my anxiety anymore, I leaned toward him. “Evan, what are we doing, exactly?”
He blanched at my intensity. “Doing? What do you mean? We’re dating, aren’t we? Getting to know one another? Appreciating each other?”
“Yes, but… ”
“But what?”
“It’s not normal,” I declared heatedly under my breath. I hated the way his features stiffened. Despite his restrained quality, Evan had always been kind to me. I didn’t want to hurt him. Still, I stumbled on. “I mean… the sexual part. We’ve spent a lot of time together. You’ve only kissed me that one time. In eight weeks. And even then, you pulled back, like… “ I halted abruptly, instinctively afraid to put that ugly thought into words. I inhaled and commanded myself to continue in a more measured, adult tone. ?
?I know I told you I’d be patient, that day we had the picnic at Half Moon Bay when we… you know. Kissed.” I closed my eyes briefly in humiliation, acutely aware that I was failing. I sounded like a heartbroken sixteen-year-old.
“I told you that I understood,” I continued in a low voice. “But to be honest, I don’t. I’m sorry if that makes me needy or naïve, but maybe that’s what I am. It doesn’t seem healthy. Us. I feel like you’re not ready for this. I like you, Evan. I like you so much.” You’re such a little liar. You more than like him. “But I don’t want to get hurt, and I feel like I will, if you’re constantly thinking about… ”
My mouth hesitated in forming her name, but I pushed on, fueled by my rising doubt. “If you’re thinking about your wife all the time.”
Elizabeth.
A silence stretched between us, strained and nearly unbearable.
“Why now?”
I blinked at his quiet question, confused.