Page 9 of From Our First

“Here you go, Mr. Smith.” The hostess walked away as Myra’s gaze shot up. Her mouth dropped in surprise, and I saw…mortification in her eyes.

“You,” she stuttered.

I didn’t want to make a scene, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do. If I ran, there would be fucking clucking noises. I had a feeling that my brothers had either bribed the hostess well, or the woman was somehow friends with our friends. I wasn’t sure. But, Jesus Christ. Icouldn’trun now.

Though if I sat down, I wouldn’t be doing so in front of the woman who was friends with my friends. No, I would be sitting down with my ex-wife, our past between us like a third person in our party.

However, I didn’t have a way out of this, and I wasn’t sure I could outrun the chickens, let alone my past. No, there was no turning back. And, honestly, I didn’t think there ever had been—not since I saw Myra across the room after so many years that first time.

So, I took a deep breath and sat down across from her, ignoring how her hand tightened around her phone. “Hello, Myra.”

“Did you set this up?” she asked, her voice a hiss.

“No, your friends and my family did. Because they have a cruel sense of humor.”

She flinched. Tonight wasn’t what I had expected, and yet, there was no going back.

“They told me they had lists of dozens of names for me to go through for this pact so I could find my date and happiness. But, apparently, you were first on the list. Now I’m a little worried to see who’s next.”

My head hurt, and I couldn’t reconcile my lack of control over anything. Which was probably why I sounded like an asshole when I next opened my mouth. “Apparently, Iamyour list, baby.”

“Don’t call mebaby,” she snapped before closing her eyes and letting out a breath. “We need to stop doing this. We told ourselves that we would stop doing this.”

My hand fisted on the table, and I nodded, forcing myself to relax. “You’re right. We may hate each other, but we have to be friends.”

Once again, she flinched, but it was the truth. We did hate each other. We had thrown the words at each other before. There was no taking them back. “How are we going to do this?”

“We did just fine when we were watching Joshua when Dakota lost all her babysitters.”

Her lips went white under her gloss as she tightened them. “Because we had a common purpose—to keep him safe. But we still fought.”

I nodded, frowning down at the menu. “True. But why do I feel like the animosity has only increased since?”

“Maybe because it has?” she asked and then sighed. “I hate this. I hate that I don’t feel comfortable in my skin when you’re around.”

I frowned.

“Not like that,” she corrected. “Because I feel like I’m two steps behind, and we have so many secrets. Huge secrets, Nate. And we’re keeping them from our friends and family.”

“We are,” I said, knowing where she was going with this.

“They don’t know why this is so horrible for us. They don’t realize that we shouldn’t be together across from each other at a table. Alone.”

I sighed. “Are you saying we should tell them?”

She played with the wine glass as the waiter came. She looked up and put on her best smile, though I knew it didn’t reach her eyes.

“If the gentleman is ready to order, I am,” she began.

“Sure, I can find something quick.”

“I’ll have the salmon, only be sure there’s no shellfish.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“I’ll take the filet,” I said, looking down at the side dishes. I recognized a few things, but I wasn’t sure I had ever had them together. This wasn’t a place where you picked your sides. It was up to the chef, so I went with it.

“How would you like your steak cooked?”

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