Page 50 of Selfish Desires

“Does Stephen have a last name?” Zachary teased.

I was about to open my mouth when I realized my dumb answer.

“Hello, Vincent?”

“I’m still fucking here.” I massaged my temple. Stupid, Vincent. So fucking stupid.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t have the guy’s fucking last name.” I punched the wall, shaking off my stinging skin.

“Seriously?” Zachary’s shock was genuine. “Jeez, look what love does to you. It makes you so soft you lose your edge.”

“Would you shut the fuck up? I’ll find out the guy’s last name.” How could I let an obvious detail like this slip? This never happened to me and only made me wonder. Could I be missing something else?

“Alright, alright,” Zachary said, the laughter in his voice fading slightly. “I'll start digging up what I can on every Stephen in Newport while you figure out a last name.”

“He owns, like a hybrid general store, an antique shop in town.”

“Got it. And when I prove your hunch wrong and Stephen isn’t some threat, Blair and I would like to come to visit you guys in Newport,” said Zachary, still keeping his tone all business.

“Fine.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, my tension lessening only a fraction. “But Zachary? This stays between us.”

“As always.” The line cut abruptly, leaving me with my worries and the low hum of the restaurant behind me.

I hurried back to our table, where Wendy was immersed in a conversation with my mom. She looked up as I approached, and her brown eyes twinkled with a warmth that melted the icy shield around my bones. Her smile faltered when she saw my expression.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her brows drawing together in concern.

“Nothing,” I brushed her question away as nonchalantly as I could muster under her worried gaze. Slinking back into my seat, I took Wendy’s hand. “I think Zachary and Blair will visit us within the month. That’ll be fun, right?”

Wendy's smile returned, radiant as a sunrise, but a frown crinkled her forehead. “That's great,” she said, “but you didn't answer my question. Are you okay?”

I forced myself to smile to match hers and squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” A lie that felt like acid on my tongue.

Thankfully, my mother intervened at that moment. “Speaking of visits,” she said, her voice hoarse but warm, “Next time, I’d like to stay at your house.”

“What’s wrong with the hotel you’re staying at? It’s five stars.” Mom always had a way of making my blood boil to a standing simmer.

“If I’m coming into town to see family, I want to stay with my family. And all these hotels are so expensive.” Marjorie scrunched her nose, sipping on a fresh cappuccino.

“I don’t care about the price,” I pointed out.

“Sometimes you should care, Vincent,” Marjorie replied. “Sometimes you should.”

It had been a long day at work, and with each passing second, my body, mind, and heart all wanted to go home and see Vincent. It was a strange comfort I was growing to embrace, and I had to admit…I loved it.

When I pulled into the driveway around seven and opened the door, I spotted Vincent plating our dinners, and instantly, my mouth watered. Vincent spun around the instant my keys hit the circular table tucked next to the door, and he flashed me a perfect white-toothed smile and motioned me over to the table to begin our small feast.

“It looks like Zachary and Blair are coming to visit,” said Vincent from across our small, rectangular dining room table. The steam rising from our heaping bowls of spaghetti and meatballs fogged Vincent’s thick-framed black glasses, causing me to giggle. Vincent frowned at his obstructed vision as he fanned his napkin. He removed the spectacles and rubbed the lenses until clear before popping the frames back onto his face. I couldn’t deny I loved how he looked wearing his new glasses, even though he viewed them as a reminder of his age catching up with him. I found Vincent utterly sexy with the face accessory. He caught my gaze, and his lips quirked up into a smile, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I'm glad you find my senior citizen status amusing, babe,” he teased, tapping my hand playfully with his finger across the table. His touch was electric and vibrant—a familiar warmth triggering a spark. The half-buttoned sky blue business shirt that exposed Vincent’s chiseled torso with the perfect amount of black hair sprinkled across didn’t help wipe this charged image from my mind.

“So, Blair and Zach are finally coming down?” I asked, attempting to steer the conversation back on track.

“They're coming for a weekend.” He twirled a forkful of spaghetti elegantly around his fork before lifting it to his mouth. Vincent chewed thoughtfully, looking at me from across the table with an expectant gaze. “I think they’re bringing Sadie too. Amanda will be at a friend’s, so it’ll be just the three of them.”

“We can probably have them stay here if they’re okay with it.”

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