Page 6 of Attached At Heart
My thoughts continued to tumble, even as Delaney walked up two minutes before our dinner reservation, wearing the littleblack dress of all little black dresses. It wasthelittle black dress. The only one that existed in my mind.
Her graduation dress.
The fabric curved over her hips, which swayed as she walked, capturing my attention.Fuck me.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” She reached my side and smacked me in the arm with the small clutch she had in her hand. “Youtoldme to wear this dress.”
“I’m just…surprised you actually found it.” I cleared my throat, hoping she wouldn’t notice the heat rising up my neck at being caught staring. I was usually so much better at keeping myself in check, but I was out of practice. And feeling a little greedy and desperate. I hadn’t seen Delaney in months, and I’d been deprived of looking at her. “You look…nice.”
She snorted. “That sounded convincing.”
I bit my tongue, forcing myself not to respond to that. Icouldbe convincing, but she hadn’t asked for that.
“Nice,” she repeated beneath her breath as she slid past me and into the restaurant. I curled my fingers into fists in my pockets to keep from stopping her and rephrasing myself to make sure she understood just howniceI thought she looked. But before I could do or say anything, Delaney pulled up short after opening the door to Giovanni’s.
“Wow, you want to talk about nice—look at this place. Good thing I wore my dress.”
As I stood staring at her backside, I thought the opposite. Maybe itwasn’ta good thing she wore this dress. Not if I wanted to keep my shit together enough to have a conversation.
“Don’t worry about it.” I placed a hand on the small of her back and gently urged her forward. “Dinner’s on me.”
“I wasn’t worried about it.” She peeked back over her shoulder. “And you don’t need to pay. Unless I find out you’remaking more money than me simply because you have a dick. In that case, I’ll allow it.”
I shook my head, biting down on a smile. God, it was so fucking annoying how much I’d missed her. “I know I don’t need to pay. I’m paying because I want to, Lane.”
She turned on me with a mock gasp. “Has Boston turned you into a gentleman?”
I scowled, resisting the urge to demand she tell me at least one time that I had beenungentlemanly. Trust me, where Delaney Delacroix was concerned, I was very much a gentleman. Fucking killed me at times, but maintaining our friendship had always been the most important thing to me.
To no surprise, Delaney ignored my scowl and turned toward the hostess, giving her my name before clasping her hands behind her back demurely. I found it satisfying that although I hadn’t told her I made a reservation, she’d known I’d taken care of it. Meanwhile, I traced the buttons on her dress with my eyes, following them up the straight line of her back and marveling at her perfect posture. When the hostess gestured for us to follow her, Delaney moved with grace in every step like the retired ballerina debutante extraordinaire she was.
“I just want to celebrate the occasion,” I clarified as we settled into opposite seats at a table tucked in the corner of the restaurant. The quaint space glowed with ambient lighting, and I realized how awfully romantic it felt. I knew I could play it off, but this was the kind of shit I should really be more careful about. Especially until I figured out the rest of the details surrounding her broken engagement.
She said it hadn’t beenreal. What the hell did that mean?
“The occasion?” she parroted.
I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “You know, you moving to Boston.”
You being single.
She laughed, but it was slightly strained. “I’ve been here for nearly a month.”
I paused at that, the air getting choked out of me as I decided how to respond.A month. How hadn’t I known? After a beat, I settled on, “When the fuck were you going to tell me?”
Chill. Real chill.
Did Delaney notwantto be around me? Because that was probably something I should figure out, and quick.
“I don’t know.” Delaney’s gaze lowered as she focused on her menu a little too hard. “I was getting settled and everything, and I didn’t even realize you worked at SCMC. I have no idea how we went this long without?—”
“Oh, I don’t.” I’d forgotten to clarify that earlier. I didn’t work there, but my sister, who was a trauma surgeon, did. “Nat works there, and I was having lunch with her.”
“Oh.” Delaney glanced up from her menu before burying her gaze back inside it. “Well, that makes more sense.”
“I work at Boston Medical.” I raised a brow, mostly at how she was avoiding eye contact. “I’ve still been in Boston, Lane. Like I told you.”
Heaving a loud sigh, she put down the menu. But instead of meeting my eyes, she began toying with her water glass, sliding the tip of her finger around the rim and watching it with an annoying amount of concentration.
