Ronan
Elizabeth chose the most pretentiousrestaurant in the city to meet for dinner.La Nostalgiewas impossible to get into, but my ex-wife had connection on top of connection. She chose this particular restaurant for the cache, no doubt, but there was more to it. I hated these types of places, and she knew it. We were as friendly as two people with our history could be, but she still liked to get her digs in when she could.
Tonight, it was uncomfortable chairs made for little people and tiny portions, not to mention being late for our reservation. If that was the worst of it, I’d survive.
“Think she forgot?” Finn asked.
I rotated my whisky in tight circles. “I don’t. She’ll be here. She wouldn’t miss being seen in a place like this, even if her head had been lobbed off.”
Finn winced. “Oooh, sounds gruesome. I’ll pass.”
Swallowing down a burning gulp of my drink, I eyed him. “How is running with Iris going?”
His eyes darted to the side, then back to me. “Yeah, it’s grand. She likes to talk while she runs, so we get along, talking each other’s ear off. She overheard you on the phone with Elizabeth, actually, and asked me who Lizzy was.”
I lowered my chin. “And did you tell her?”
He held his hands up like we were in a Western. “All I told her was she’s your ex. She was a dog with a bone and wouldn’t have dropped it otherwise.”
I hadn’t seen Iris since I’d dropped her off after her rehearsal. All week, she sent me sassy little texts, letting me know Bill was taking her to either Adam or Rodrigo and Hope’s place, or she was going out to run with Finn and had no use for me. At the same time, she had run with Finn every day, and for the hundredth time in my life, I cursed the hell out of my knee injury. Iris was my responsibility. I should have been the one running with her.
“She didn’t ask anything else?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t. She accepted that answer and moved on.”
“Mmm. Good.”
“Where is that wicked little songbird tonight?”
“Matt’s on Iris duty. She’s going to dinner and dancing with her girlfriends. I don’t have the details, but Matt will keep me posted.” I flipped my phone over even though I already knew I hadn’t received a message.
His instructions for the night were not to allow anyone to touch Iris. He may not have been bright, but Matt could follow directions with the best of them.
A flurry of movement to my right captured my attention. Elizabeth sashayed through the restaurant in a shimmering gold dress, light glinting off the material with each sway of her hips. Her blonde hair laid like puffs of clouds on her shoulders, and her eyes were homed in on me.
At her side was an equally chic, younger Black woman with waist-length braids and a snow-white dress that barely covered her thighs. Finn and I stood at the same time. Elizabeth came to a stop a foot away from me and gave me a thorough inspection with her eyes.
“I don’t like you in navy, Ronan. I prefer when you wear gray.” She laughed and held her hand out to the other woman. “This is Bea. Bea, this is Ronan and Finn.”
Bea’s smile was sweet and maybe slightly timid. “I don’t know. I think he’s working the navy,” she said.
Smoothing a hand over my lapel, I shot Elizabeth a censuring look. “Thank you. And you look lovely in white.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but curled her arms around my neck in a hug. “Nice to see you, Ro. You do look mighty fit,” she murmured beside my ear.
I patted the center of her back and sucked up a shot of nostalgia from having her in my arms. “You too, Lizzy.”
She shoved away from me. “God, you know how to ruin a moment.”
Once Finn had greeted Bea and Elizabeth, we sat down at the table and ordered another round of drinks. Finn launched a litany of questions aimed at Bea—she was twenty-two, recent UCLA grad, had worked for Elizabeth for six months, and her goal was to eventually work in A&R, scouting new musical talent, like Elizabeth did. While they spoke, I studied my ex-wife.
Elizabeth had always been a classic beauty, and she’d only refined herself over the years. If you’d told me six years ago we’d be sitting down to dinner now, joking like friends, I wouldn’t have believed it. Not after the way she left me. Not after she ripped out my heart for a chance to chase a dream she never caught.
Time was a fickle thing, though. Six years was a lifetime now. Elizabeth and I had both changed enough we could be friendly. We could admit we cared about what happened to the other without it meaning more than that.
She turned her head, catching me musing over her. “Ro,” she mouthed and picked up my hand to hold against her chest. The gesture was so fucking familiar, I could’ve been twenty-two again, sitting at my wedding reception, scared to be a husband but proud to have this woman as my wife.
“Are you still happy in LA?” I asked.