Page 96 of Unspoken Words
“You idiot. What did youjust agree to?” I stared at my dumbfounded reflection in the mirror before flicking the tap on and washing my hands. “A carnival in Hell, that’s what, with little red naked demons juggling fire sticks while swinging from the rafters, and the devil himself—the ringmaster—seated centre stage with an appetising platter of forbidden fruit. And don’t get me started on the fucking clowns.”
The door to the restaurant bathroom swung open, so I quickly stopped berating myself and dried my hands, watching as an elderly lady hobbled in, discomfort pinching her wrinkled brows.
“Here, let me hold that for you,” I offered, smiling as I reached out and clasped the door.
“Thanks, dear. My bladder isn’t what it used to be.”
I chuckled. “Not a problem at all.”
She made her way into a stall while I performed one final check of my hair and makeup, my new blonde do pinned back with a clip shaped as a butterfly. Admittedly, I’d always wanted to die my carrot top, but what I’d gone and done at Byron’s suggestion was now undeniably excessive—Madonna Blonde Ambition Tour excessive.
Connor probably hates it.I pulled a face and poked any loose tendrils behind my ears.Who cares if he hates it?It doesn’t matter.Byron mattered.Imattered.Oh my God, why am I even thinking this?
My reflection cocked an eyebrow and answered the question for me, “Because you still love him. You always have and you always will.”Pfft.My reflection knew jack shit. Sure, I’d always care for Connor despite what we’d been through, but that was all it would ever be—a deep fondness forged by a strong friendship.
“You keep telling yourself that,” my reflection added. “That surge of electricity that coursed through your body when he touched your hand … yeah, I felt it, and I know you felt it too. All those memories. All those times you were together, in love and in lust.”
“No, no, no, no. NO.” I stared my reflection down, ready to slap her if need be.
“Is everything all right out there, dear?”
Huh? Oh, shit! The little old lady.“Y—Yes. Everything is fine. I just … er … I just smudged my lip gloss.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little self about that,” she said over the flush of the toilet. The door of her stall swung open, and she stepped out, rearranging her floral dress. “There are far worse things than smudged lip gloss.”
I nodded my agreement and pretended to fix my lip gloss by dabbing at my lips. “Yes, you’re right. There are far worse things.”
Like falling back in love with the ex who shattered your heart.
After holding the door open for her to leave, I stopped behind a brick wall pillar, a faded photo of the Colosseum nailed to the mortar. I could see Connor sitting at our table, his fingers tapping a beat onto the chequered tablecloth as he waited for me to return. He was comfortably outstretched and comfortably edible. A grown man with a tall, lean, well-defined grown-man body.
Heat travelled the length of my spine as my eyes roamed him from top to toe. His hair was still chin-length and stylishly dishevelled, more brown than copper but still one of his best features. My fingers itched to touch it, but only for a split second, and only for old time’s sake.
Shaking my body like an Olympic swimmer does before they dive into the pool, I tried to rid myself of the ridiculous thoughts in my mind when Anthony rounded the pillar.
“Ahh, Bella. You like to dance?”
He went to place his serving tray down, which is when I realised “O Sole mio” was playing.
“Oh no! No, no.” I laughed albeit awkwardly. “I don’t dance. I was just … stretching.”
“Stretching, eh?”
“Yes, stretching.” I reached toward the ceiling for added effect. “See?”
He chuckled and wandered off, mumbling Italian as he went.
What are you doing, Eloise? Stop being stupid. Go sit back down and do what you came here to do, to discuss your job.
Making my way back to the table, I couldn’t avoid looking at how Connor’s t-shirt clung to the muscles of his abdomen and biceps, the hint of tattooed ink creeping out from underneath the black material.
“You got a tattoo?” I said, nodding toward it.
He lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal an ampersand. “I did.”
I cocked my head, curious. “An ‘and’ symbol?” It was an unusual tattoo to have, especially for a guy. “I was expecting a skeleton, or perhaps something music related.”
“It’s a broken infinity.” He ran his finger over it. “A broken ever after.”
