Page 46 of Surrender
Get in.
Get out.
Hopefully, leave this relationship behind me.
Did I think it would be that easy?Hell no. But a girl could hope.
I spotted Parker through the front windows, already sitting at a table, chatting with a pretty waitress. She had a wide smile, tucking her hair behind her ear as I imagined he was offering her some kind of compliment. One that sounded even better than it would usually because it was coming from a guy like him.
Handsome, dressed up, well-spoken.
It’s surprising how clear things became when that switch suddenly flicked and the lights came on.
I gave myself one more second, one last breath, before I straightened my spine and walked toward the door. He was sitting close to the back of the café, right in front of a largewindow that looked out over their garden patio outside.
It was a pretty view—the inside reflecting the same aesthetic with a lot of plants and furniture that were veryBridgertongarden party.
He looked up as I approached, his eyes scanning my outfit from head to toe as he got to his feet to greet me. When his gaze reached my shoes, there was a brief second where he pursed his lips.
I hadn’t worn heels.
When I’d gotten dressed this morning, I’d naturally gravitated toward them because that was the rule he’d always insisted on. Over and over, it was drilled into me how important heels were for looks, how women in heels were always naturally more respected.
Putting on my Converse this morning and going against it was a satisfying protest.
When his eyes lifted to meet mine again, he smiled, opening his arms. “Looking beautiful, as always,” he commented, pulling me into a tight hug and lowering his voice to a whisper, “I can’t remember saying this was casual dress.”
I gently pulled free, glancing down at the offending clothing item. “Just felt like being comfortable.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, pulling out the chair for me. “Wish I’d known we were doing comfortable. I would have stayed in my pajamas.”
I wanted to walk out then and there—my stomach churning with every smug, underhanded remark that I used to write off as his strange sense of humor.
But now I knew better.
I slid into the seat stiffly, and he pushed it in behind me like a true gentleman before circling the table to take his own.
“I ordered you a coffee,” he said casually, nodding at two full mugs.
I reached for mine with shaking fingers, pulling it toward me before tearing open a couple of sugar packets and dumping them in, hoping the sweetness might calm the nerves clawing at my insides and maybe even drown out the bitterness of the situation.
“You’re still upset about dinner the other night,” he said, watching me sip at the hot drink. There was a hint of amusement in his tone, almost like he was humoring a small child about their problems. “Look, I admit I was a little accusatory about your relationship with the biker. I’ve just seen what men like that are capable of. I was frustrated about you hanging around with criminals and being reckless with your safety.”
Spoken like a true lawyer.
He got angry because I was doing something wrong.
Which meant it was my fault.
It was almost comical to really notice how he could quickly twist things and make them sound so honest. But that wasn’t the part that had me sitting a little straighter and squaring my shoulders.
Nate wasn’t wrong when he said I never put myself first, but I’d be the first to stand up for the people I cared about. And hearing him ramble on like Nate was somecriminalhad quickly turned the nerves I was feeling into anger.
“I didn’t come here to talk abouthim,” I said, my voice sharper than even I expected. “We need to talk aboutus.”
He raised an eyebrow and leaned in, his hands clasped together on the table like he was settling in for a deep and meaningful.
“Oh really?” he countered with a condescending smile. “Sure. Communication is key in a healthy relationship.”
