Page 109 of Wedlock
“Jag.”
I lean back in my chair and frown.
‘Where’s that fucking drink?’
“If you really must know,” I shrug, “some of them were children. And don’t go looking at me like that. I’m no saint. I killed everyone over the age of sixteen. Anyone younger, a handful, no more, I spared.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not my goddamned father, Angie. Although I know I’ve given you no reason to believe any different over the past few years. I’d never deliberately harm a child.”
She nods as though I’ve confirmed something she already knew.
‘What’s she thinking?’
“Falcon,” she frowns at me, “what’s the real reason we’re here?”
I take a deep breath and look into her beautiful eyes. It’s true I wanted to give her the experience she’d craved all those years ago. Perhaps walk later to where I’d picked up the cat and kittens, remind her I wasn’t such a monster. But more than that, I’m trying to please her. And I’m trying to impress upon her my sadness over how our relationship has transpired, and fix what I’d broken.
I can’t say any of this, though. The words just won’t come. I hope my actions will speak for me.
I clear my throat and shrug.
“I wanted you to know that every date I went on during The Games should have been with you — and so it will be.”
“Every date?” She looks at me, disbelieving. “You mean you plan to take me to every country and re-live every date you had with all those girls?”
“Every one,” I nod solemnly. “I don’t want to relive it, after all, I ate most of them,” I smirk. “I want to live it for the first time, with you.”
“Every date?” She asks again.
“Yes.”
“This wasn’t your first date,” she snorts, looking back down at the menu. “That was with Giselle, in Spain.”
I rise and hold out my hand.
“What?” She frowns.
“Let’s go?”
“Where?”
“Spain.”
“No,” she laughs, “Don’t be an idiot. I don’t need you to recreate every date, I’m just saying...”
“You’re just saying you know each and every date I went on in every country with every girl,” I smirk.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she snorts. “I had very little else to occupy my thoughts at the time.”
“And yet you still remember,” I murmur. “Perhaps I’m not the only green-eyed monster in the room.”
“This is a rooftop restaurant,” she rolls her eyes, “not a room. And you, Vampire, have tickets on yourself.”
I laugh as the waiter approaches with my drink and Angie orders a vast number of dishes and dessert.
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