Page 71 of The Sweetest Chirp

My heart swells with pride. “Thank you.”

“So, no one caught your eye?”

I sigh very dramatically. “Nope, was never looking.”

He likes that; I can tell by the way his lips arc into a wicked grin before he mutters, “Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. I like how that makes me feel.”

“Had nothing to do with you,” I tease, to which his grin grows wider.

“Still lying to us?” he asks, his voice all throaty and dirty. “For shame.”

I can’t hide my grin as heat trails down my spine and my cheeks flush. He makes it really hard not to want to climb onto this table and lay myself out like a feast for him. Thankfully, a waitress comes out to hand us our menus, and when I see what the fixed courses are, I actually squeal. Just as Arwen does whenever Thatcher lifts her in the air. “You planned an hors d’oeuvres dinner for me?”

For the first time in so long, I hear the excitement in my voice. I’ve been living only for Arwen the last three years, but tonight, this is for me. I’ve always wanted a meal like this. Where all you get is yummy appetizers because I eat too fast when I have a lot of food in front of me. I shouldn’t be surprised by what he has planned. He knows how much I love hors d’oeuvres, but even so, I can’t kick the giddy feeling in my gut. “I selected this place because they have the best appetizers. Plus, Jennings Sr. had his chef prepare some dishes that are from the spring and summer menu, so I hope you’re hungry.”

I wiggle in my seat. “I am.”

“Good,” he says, a small smirk on his lips as he pours me a glass of white wine that will go with the first couple courses. I’m geeking out as his eyes meet mine, and slowly, his smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “You’re stunning,dushen’ka. I love when you smile.”

My cheeks burn, and I look away toward the skyline, the many sparkling buildings glowing in the dark night sky. The whole world is out there, but I want to be nowhere other than right where I am.

When he taps the table, a habit from needing to get Ingrid’s, and now Arwen’s, attention, I look back to find him holding his wine up to me. I grab mine, and our glasses meet in the middle before his gravelly voice wraps around me like a fuzzy blanket. “To new beginnings. As an us.”

I roll my eyes. “You’ve ruined that word for me.”

“No way,” he says, his eyes challenging. “I’ve made it mean more.”

I watch him for a moment, and why do I agree? He’s too handsome for his own damn good. All dark, his hair falling into his eyes, his beard neatly trimmed, and his dark-brown eyes pinned on me. He looks like a walking sex god in a Tom Ford suit. His shoulders fill the suit to perfection, and it’s pretty sexy the way the jacket hangs open, the white shirt under it tight along his abs. Nothing is out of place; he is so perfectly put together.

But I miss his hat.

He’s so dreamy, though it’s not only his looks; it’s also how much thought he put into this date. He’s making it special, and that means more to me than how hot he is. Not that I don’t appreciate how delectable he looks. I do, and that’s when I realize that, as I suspected he would, Thatcher Orlov has blown my walls to smithereens.

I had no chance.

Our foundation was built for us to grow on. But unlike before, we’re choosing to do it together now.

“And you? Anyone special get you to practice exhibitionism?”

He scoffs, shaking his head before his eyes search mine. “No one has ever embodied the word like you, so no.”

“The word?”

“Special.”

My heart sings, but I feign that it doesn’t. “Any un-special ladies?”

His eyes burn into mine. I can tell he doesn’t want to tell me, that he is nervous how I’ll react, but we’re doing this whole communication thing, and he says softly, “There were a couple when you first left, but there hasn’t been anyone in over two years.”

I press my lips together. “Good for you.”

His eyes narrow. “They meant nothing.”

“I know,” I say confidently. “But it’s funny that I was labeled a whore, but I’m the one who’s been celibate.”

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