“I still have work to do,” I say, climbing into my own. “So we can’t stop at every attraction.”
“Hmm,” is all I hear from her before she dozes off. I shut my eyes and try to expel her from my mind so that I can get a good night's sleep too.
Chapter 21 - Amelia
Another day on the road, and all I can think about is the intense fire I see whenever Frankie looks at me. It’s planting a seed of doubt in my mind over my decision never to forgive him. To give him a second chance.
We stop at another hotel that night, making good headway on our trip.
“We’re going to dinner, and then maybe we can see what else we can do,” he says, setting his luggage on the bed. “We need to shake things up, so we’ll leave tomorrow night instead of the morning.”
I nod. “That’s fine. I’ll just have a shower, and then we can go eat.”
The hot water does little to soothe me. In fact, it makes the butterflies in my stomach fly harder and faster. I imagine his lips on my neck, his hands on my breasts and between my legs. I want to groan out loud, but I know he’ll hear me, and that’s the last thing I want. I just wish he’d stop looking at me like he wants to devour me.
We walk in silence to the dining hall downstairs, and once we’re seated, I try to give him a small smile. I’m really trying to make the most of this shitty situation we find ourselves in, but he just can’t seem to relax.
“Oh, garlic snails,” I say. “I haven’t had garlic snails in forever. I think I’ll have that as a starter and then some steak and maybe dessert after.”
He nods to me, though it doesn’t feel like he’s actually paying attention. When his eyes meet mine, though, there’s that fiery passion I can’t deny. It makes my body hot and makes me wet. I’ve never felt so desired before, well, I have, but it was with him when we were first together.
I have to keep reminding myself that this can never work and that it will lead to more heartbreak. I need to keep myself in check.
The waitress comes over to take our order, and he speaks, “For starters can we get garlic snails and some prawns? For the mains, she’ll have the steak, medium well, with a side of vegetables, and I’ll have a steak, medium well, with a side of salad. Please bring us a bottle of Roxton black and two glasses.”
The waitress writes everything down, takes our menus, and leaves.
“Roxton black, you like good Italian wine,” I try and make small conversation, trying to get him to settle into the amicable relationship we agreed upon.
“Lord knows I need a drink,” he runs a hand through his hair. “You certainly drive me to it.”
I grin. “Good, that’s my job. To drive you insane!” I fiddle with my cutlery. “Can I find out where we’re going yet?”
I don’t expect him to tell me, but he nods. “Pennsylvania,” he says. “There are some businesses there that need to be checked on.”
I smile. “I’ve never been there. It could be fun.” I grin. “Maybe we can see some sights when you’re not busy working.”
“I’m going to be very busy, and it really isn’t a good idea to go out too much,” he says. “I know you want to plan a fun road trip, but you can’t forget we’re on the run, trying to stay alive. If anyone sees us or gets wind of where we are, we place ourselves in a lot of danger.”
My heart sinks. “I know, but one or two places can’t hurt. Right?”
“I’ll see how busy I am,” he says, looking away from me.
I don’t know what else to say. I was hoping to treat this more like a holiday than a prison sentence since that’s all I seem to be dealing with lately.
We sit in silence until the food comes. At least now, I have something to preoccupy myself with. The food, at the very least, is delicious and Frankie made a good choice in wine though I don’t drink as much as I normally would. I’m worried I might make some more bad choices if I become too intoxicated. The main meals are served, and Frankie glances at me every now and then. He probably thinks I don’t notice, but every time he does, it’s like a jolt of electricity surges through me.
The waitress brings back our menus but only I take one. I scan the page and say, “I’ll have the death by chocolate.” I hand her back the menu, and she turns to Frankie.
“Whiskey, neat, something high-end,” he says. “That’s all I want.”
Such a man, I think, can’t even indulge a sweet tooth. I remember the cringy jokes he and Papa made when we were cooking. I wish it could be fun like that. He has a sense of humor. I know he does, he just won’t let loose. I think that’s because I don’t return his feelings.
The death by chocolate is an orgasm in my mouth, and the chocolate leaves a delicious lingering taste once I’ve scraped the bowl clean. Frankie pays the bill and stands, offering me his arm.
I take it, and he escorts me out of the dining hall and to the elevator. Once we’re in, I let go of his arm and stand awkwardly to the side.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.