Page 117 of Three Sweet Nothings (The Blindfold Club)

He stared at the empty booth, set down the envelope on the seat, and began to peel off his coat. “Here is fine.”

Oh, God. I pressed my lips into a line to hold back the tremble. I slid down into my seat slowly, wondering how long the waitstaff would let me stay here after Kyle left. I’d sat on his doorstep at Randhurst for hours, and things would be so much harder this this time around.

He’d barely settled in across from me before the server sashayed up and began to load her tray with the empty glasses. “Another Amstel?” It was then that she looked up and paused. “Didn’t you used to be a big, gorgeous guy?”

“He had to leave,” Kyle said dryly. “I’ll have a bourbon and Coke.”

When she turned to me, I shook my head, and she flitted away with her tray. It opened up room on the table, and he pulled a napkin from the dispenser, wiped away the condensation from the drinks, and dropped the envelope on the lacquered surface.

“W-W-What’s that?” My voice was small. Goddamn stutter.

He laid his hand on top of the envelope, and the action struck me as odd. His fingertips rested on it delicately. Whatever was inside was important, and potentially difficult. Every second of silence from him made my heart climb higher in my body until it was pounding in my ears.

“Last time we spoke, you made me a promise, which I told you I didn’t think you could keep.” His blue eyes seemed deeper in the dark lighting, and they sucked me in. “Do you remember what you said after that?”

I nodded so slowly, it might not have registered to him. I’d promised not to lose my head again with him. “I said I couldn’t keep my promise without your help.”

He looked pleased and the envelope slid toward me. “Exactly. This is my offer.”

Frantic energy buzzed through me as I bent the metal prongs inward and lifted the flap. Inside was a single sheet. A contract, judging by the format and the signature lines at the bottom.

I made it one line before I burst into tears.

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