Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Have you eaten?” I ask while I look down at the menu that was placed on the table before we even sat down. We usually rent out the whole place so no one is coming up to us while we enjoy our meals.
“I ate a hot dog at the game,” she says, grabbing her glass of wine, “and a pretzel.” She takes a sip and looks around.
The server comes up to the table. “Hi, I’m Suzanna. Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll have the grilled salmon with steamed veggies,” I tell her, then glance at Sofia, who is now looking down at the menu.
“I’ll take a small house salad and a plate of fries.” She looks up, smiling at the server, who nods at her before turning back to me. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’ll have a water,” I tell her, handing her my menu for her to take the hint and leave us alone. Ever since I walked in here and saw her, all I knew was I didn’t want to share her.
“Coming right up,” she chirps, walking away from us. I look back over at Sofia, who is still looking around.
“What are you doing?” I ask, turning my head and looking around, wondering if she saw someone she knew.
She finally looks back at me, tapping her finger on the base of her wineglass. “Is this going to be something they talk about tomorrow?” she asks, and my eyebrows pinch together because I have no fucking clue what she is talking about.
“I have no idea what you mean by that,” I say, leaning back on the booth and stretching my arms across the back.
“Well,” she says, grabbing her glass again, “not too long ago, you were engaged.” She brings the glass to her lips. “And I was your wedding planner,” she adds, right before she takes a sip to stop herself from talking.
“Things change.” That is the only thing I can say. I hadn’t really announced that the engagement was on. And if it wasn’t for Helena’s post on social media with a picture of the ring, no one would have caught wind of it.
“But do they?” She puts her glass down, and Suzanna comes over with the glass of water for me.
“They do,” I confirm, grabbing the glass and finishing half of it.
“Let me ask you something.” She looks me dead in the eyes, and for the life of me, I can’t remember a time I didn’t love her. Which is the strangest thing because I haven’t seen her in two years.
“You can ask me anything,” I tell her. Now it’s my turn to tap the table nervously.
“After we met the first time.” I tilt my head to the side. “Why did you come back?”
The pit of my stomach burns with this question. “I didn’t,” I finally say, “I wasn’t planning on it. Actually, the minute we walked out of the office, I turned and said we weren’t using you.” Her eyebrows go up at this declaration. “Helena told me at the last minute she booked you.”
“You didn’t try to convince her otherwise?” she asks the loaded question. It’s the same question Christopher asked me when I told him we were using Sofia. It will probably be the first question my cousins will ask me once they find out.
“I figured if I did.” I look around, not ready to admit the next part. “She would want to know why.”
Sofia’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “So she didn’t know about me?”
“No.” I say the word and see the hurt in her eyes, right before she builds the wall back up, making my heart hurt. I want her to ask me why. I’m ready for her to ask me why. She might not be ready for it, but I am. Except she doesn’t ask me another question. Instead, she picks up her glass of wine and looks away from me as she takes two gulps.
I’m about to tell her why I never told Helena about her when Suzanna comes over with three plates. She places my plate in front of me, then the plate in front of Sofia, placing the plate of fries in the middle of the table. “Enjoy,” she says to us before walking away.
Sofia’s eyes stay glued to her plate of salad, grabbing the fork next to her as she tosses it around on the plate. I grab my own fork, flaking a piece of salmon away. We eat in silence as I ponder the questions I want to ask. I look up at her a couple of times and notice she isn’t even eating the salad. She’s just playing with it on her plate. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She doesn’t look up at me, and although we haven’t been together in two years, I know that tone doesn’t mean nothing. It means she’s pissed. I used to always love it when she gave me this tone. I knew the fight would be worth it, because when we made up, it was electric.