Amelia stiffens, and her breath catches.
I stop myself from beating the hell out of him right then and there.
“Tread carefully, Brad.” My voice drops low, a warning growl that leaves no room for misinterpretation. This isn’t the time or place for whatever game he’s playing.
I guide Amelia away and follow the hostess to our secluded corner table. The soft clink of silverware and murmur of conversation fade into the background as I pull out her chair, my hand lingering on her shoulder a moment longer than necessary.
The waiter appears, handing us soft-leaf menus. I order a bottle of wine without looking at the list, my mind still churning from the unexpected encounter.
As the waiter retreats, Amelia remains silent, her gaze distant. She’s not looking at the menu; her thoughts are clearly elsewhere.
“I’m sorry about Brad. He won’t bother you again.”
Her head snaps up, and she shakes it. “Who’s the blonde with him?”
“Racheal. His wife.”
The color drains from her face as shock and recognition flash across her features. “That’s the woman I saw in your bed. She’s the one…”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ll never forget what she looked like.”
I take in the weight of her revelation, the lost moments and milestones with Dylan flashing in my mind. Amelia must have spent countless nights alone, wondering why I had abandoned her. The thought makes my chest constrict.
“Those motherfuckers. I’ll take care of them.”
She reaches across the table, her hand closing over mine. The warmth of her touch pulls me back from the brink.
“Let’s not let them ruin our evening.” Her thumb traces gentle circles on my hand, calming me.
I nod and force a smile.
We turn back to the menus and discuss dishes in an attempt to recapture the mood. But the damage has been done, and tension lingers.
The ring in my pocket is a heavy reminder of my intentions for the evening. But the moment has passed. This isn’t the right time, not with Brad and Racheal’s betrayal looming over us.
Our meals arrive, the plates artfully arranged, steam rising in delicate wisps. The food looks exquisite, but I barely taste it. My mind spins, formulating plans and thinking of the best way to get Brad out of my life and company without further damage.
Amelia picks at her food, her usual healthy appetite diminished. I note the tremor in her hand as she lifts her wine glass.
“Are you all right?”
She sets the glass down. “I just…I can’t believe it was her. All this time, I’ve had this image in my head of some faceless woman. And now…”
“Now it’s real.” I finish the thought. “Now it has a name and a face.”
She nods, eyes shimmering. “It makes it worse, somehow. Knowing it was a deliberate act to hurt us both.”
I reach across the table again and take her hand. “The past can’t be changed, Amelia. But we can decide how we move forward from here.”
Her lips quirk into a smile. “Together?”
“Together.” I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.
The rest of the meal passes with shared glances and soft conversation. When we step outside into the cool night air, I wrap my arm around her waist, and she leans into me. Her warmth seeps into my skin, quelling the anger still simmering beneath the surface.
The car waits at the curb, and I pull her close as we slide into the back seat. I need the connection to keep myself grounded.