I don’t want to show up in something frivolous as much as I don’t want to look like I’m decked out for a funeral.
Between chiffon dresses, silk frocks, and knitted little numbers, I opt for a one-shoulder pencil dress, closing neatly down my side.
The eggplant color compliments my skin and eyes, and the subtle jewelry–– a pair of earrings and a bracelet––adds a bit of spark.
I brush all my hair to the side and let it cascade down my bare shoulder.
A few moments later, I examine my reflection in the mirror. I smile, satisfied with the nice touch given by the light makeup.
Close to seven o’clock, I pull the car out of the garage and head downtown.
I purposely arrive late.
Half an hour later, I drop my keys in the valet’s hand and enter the restaurant. It’s spacious, with tall windows, high ceilings, and tucked-in booths.
He sits by the window at a round table for two. Facing the main door, he catches sight of me as soon as I walk in.
He holds my eyes while I strut across the room, his intense gaze making me weak in my knees.
A white shirt outlines his broad shoulders and the hardness of his chest. A silver blue tie and matching cufflinks give elegance to his outfit.
His hair is all combed back, his eyes narrowing with a smile while delving into mine.
I tear my gaze away the moment I reach our table.
He motions to the hostess, rises to his feet, and pulls the chair out for me.
“You okay?” he asks, concern threading through his voice.
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound casual and relaxed.
Swiveling my head, I take in the beautiful decor.
“You like it?” he murmurs.
“Yes.”
“But that’s not why you picked this place,” he says as he sinks into his seat.
We break eye contact as the sommelier pours wine into our glasses. The man walks away, and I raise my eyes to meet Jaden’s.
There’s no smile on his face.
“No. That’s not why I chose this place. You said you wanted to talk, and I said I had some questions.”
He nods softly in agreement.
My eyes dip to his lips as he takes a sip of wine.
“Let’s start with this,” I say. “We tell each other the truth, no matter how painful or hurting it is. Would that be okay with you?”
He searches my eyes, briefly dropping his gaze to my lips and then my hands before giving me a slow nod.
“Okay. There’s only one thing. I don’t want the truth to pull us apart. That’s not why we’re here,” he says.
A bitter smile comes to my lips.
“Isn’t it a little too late for that?”