Page 29 of Yours Temporarily

With her near now, I get a close look at her dress. It clings to her, accentuating her well-proportioned figure. Keeping one hand tight on the door handle and the other to my side, I resist the urge to lean in and kiss her cheek. “You look stunning.” I’m not just saying it—it’s the truth.

“Thank you.” Her fragrance envelops me as she walks past to settle into the seat. I close the door and move around to get to my seat.

The drive commences. In a jumble of nerves, I blow out a breath. “I–I wanted to apologize.” The words emerge, barely steady. “For ghosting you. It wasn’t fair.”

A pause stretches between us. The streetlamps flash intermittent light into the car, illuminating her sitting there, arms crossed, gaze evaluating. “Why would you ghost me for an entire week?”

Nine days, but who’s counting? At a stop sign, I draw in a slow breath. “I’ve been doing some thinking.” The car idles. Easily enough, I can drive forward now, but just how can I steer this conversation where it needs to go? I pass through the intersection, and as we continue along, I confess my confusion regarding the blurry lines between our pretense and genuine moments. “I don’t know about you, but I got caught up in emotions during the dance.”

“I sensed that too.” She shakes a finger at me. “Too bad, it only happened to you.”

Her playful response has me reaching out. I smack her leg. “Liar.”

“Some people can’t handle the truth, you know.”

Ouch. That hits a nerve. I couldn’t handle the effect she had on me—still has on me—which is mostly why I’m here with her rather than at my penthouse ordering takeout.

She tucks her chin down again, and her lips wobble while she picks at a seam on her handbag. “I thought you found me unworthy of you.”

Whoa! I wince as the revelation strikes deep. My thoughtless actions—my running from this preoccupation I have with her—caused those insecurities.

“That’s not true.” In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Her feelings of unworthiness mirror my fears. “And I felt bad all week for ignoring you.”

Here we are, trying to maintain a delicate balance, yet if I continue my avoidance, I could jeopardize not only the façade of our engagement but also this underlying connection we’re struggling to define.

Soon, we arrive at a cozy Mediterranean-themed restaurant offering dim lighting, creamy stucco walls, exposed ceiling beams, and well-loved wooden tables and hardwood floors. Lush plants add the only color to its earthy tones while pottery and old wine bottles line the shelves. Soft music plays in the background, the soothing ambience a reprieve from our turbulent conversation. I vetted this place on my phone earlier, seeking a less crowded place with good food, somewhere less formal so it didn’t appear too obvious as a date. Now, spices and fresh bread tempt me with mouthwatering scents.

Plus, the restaurant’s tranquil atmosphere eliminates the need for reservations. A young woman welcomes us and escorts us to a vacant table tucked away in a corner. Before departing, she hands us the menus. “The server will be with you shortly to take your order.”

Flickering candlelight bathes the space in a warm glow, accentuating Zuri’s features and casting an intimate veil over our table. She slides into the padded bench along the back wall and sets her purse amid the cushions, leaving the wooden chair facing her for me.

“I’ve been thinking.” She clasps her hands on the table, her eyes bright. “I don’t want you to pay me for the café.”

“Why’s that?” I stiffen. Not that I can blame her for backing out of our arrangement.

“Well…” Her hand covers mine on the table, and its warmth seeps deeper than the skin, clouding my judgment with a pleasant haze. “Maybe just help me buy the appliances. The rest, you can help me with your business management skills, to see if I can start with whatever I have. Or you can loan me the rest, and I’ll repay you.”

“How about I invest in the café instead?” I have the money, and I’m always passionate about helping fund local community businesses. But I don’t need to broadcast that. “You can repay me in two years when the business yields profit. Plus, you have a charity to support, and I want to help you fulfill that dream.”

“Thank you.” She takes her hand back, and I miss her touch. “But what if it doesn’t succeed?”

“As long as I’m your business advisor, your business isn’t going to fail.” I’ll use all my local connections to broadcast her business, though I also don’t want to overwhelm her when she’s just starting out. “It’ll succeed, and you’ll be in the profit margin sooner than you expect.”

She braces an elbow on the table and plops her chin in her hand. “Now, can you please explain why you’re so afraid of relationships?”

I shake a finger at her. “If I remember, you said you’re not into dating either.”

She deflects that with a lighthearted shrug. “But I didn’t act so closed off when we had a moment during the dance.”

“I’ve been let down before.” Her sweetness disarms me, compelling a confession I hadn’t planned on sharing. “I guess I’m afraid of jumping into something and getting hurt again. But avoiding you wasn’t the answer.”

The admission hangs between us.

Her eyes reflect a shared pain. “I’m sorry about that.” A shadow fleets crosses her bright-eyed expression. Maybe she, too, understands the sting of a breakup. “It’s hard to let someone in when you’re scared of getting hurt.”

The server returns to take our drink orders, and we both request water, having not yet delved into the menu. When prompted for our meal choices, Zuri turns to me for a recommendation, so I ask the server for their signature dish since neither Zuri nor I have any food allergies.

Once the server departs, Zuri refocuses on me, her curiosity piqued about my ex. “I’d better start getting to know all the people I’ll meet at the wedding.”

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