“Fine. I accept your apology. Will you stop textin’ now? I’d like to move on.”
He moved even closer to me, laying his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want to move on from you. I miss the hell out of you.”
In my periphery, a photographer set his lens on us. We had to paint an intimate picture, standing so close, Drew touching me like it was his right.
I smiled up at him. “Here’s the thing. A photographer’s about to take a picture of us standin’ like this and—”
His hand squeezed my shoulder. “Let him. I don’t care who sees us together.”
I stepped back out of his hold. “I was tryin’ to say I’d rathernotbe photographed with you. See, my boyfriend’s standin’ over by the bar, watching us, and he’s the only one I want my picture taken with. I’m sure you understand, Drew. You know how these things work.”
His gaze darted to the bar, and I saw in his face the second he registered who my boyfriend was. “Thatguy?”
I bit my lip as I took in Santiago’s rough exterior—his sketchy tattoos, overgrown hair and beard, knuckles scarred from the damage they’d once done, crooked nose, and deep frown. My heart skipped a beat or two every time I laid eyes on that man. Always had. I was beginning to think it always would. While Drew was classically handsome, he didn’t hold a candle or even a flicker to Santi.
“Yeah, that guy.”
Since I had nothing else to say to him, I strode away, giving my hips an extra sway for him to remember me by. Santiago was waiting for me, his hand out.
I twined my fingers with my boyfriend’s as soon as I reached him. “Can we get out of here?”
Without a word, he pulled me through the room, which had gotten crowded. In the hallway, security escorted us to the back exit where a car waited to take us back to our hotel.
From the time I asked Santiago if we could leave, it couldn’t have taken us more than three minutes to slide into the backseat of the Town Car. He kept me at his side, arm around me, a kiss to the side of my still-sweaty head. But right below his surface, I felt his fury. He was keeping it from me, holding it in, but this man was mine. I knew him. He couldn’t hide from me.
For now, I was too tired to talk, and still processing. Santiago let me be quiet as he stayed steady by my side, holding me as our car drove through the wet streets of London.