Page 21 of Watching Ames

But before I could blurt any of this out, a familiar voice piped up behind me as I felt a warm hand rest on the small of my back, “I’m here. Sorry I’m late.”

The hostess gave him a smile of relief, likely having been anticipating the worst when I took so long to answer her. She grabbed a couple of menus and turned in the direction of what I assumed was our table.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed under my breath as we followed the hostess across the short stretch between the front door and our table.

I couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of my eye as we walked, taking in how he towered over me despite my heels. The dark hue of his hair was only emphasized by the all-black ensemble he wore, looking almost blue in the dim light of the restaurant. He wasn’t wearing a suit for once, instead dressing more casually in dark dress pants and a fitted black button-down, the lack of a jacket showing off the breadth of his shoulders and the tight muscles in his arms and chest. Even though he wasn’t large, he felt that way, giving off a presence that drew everyone’s attention in a way that made me possessive. I grabbed his elbow as we got closer to our table, wanting to make it clear that even though Alex may not bemine, he was with me.

After I threaded my arm through his, however, I felt silly, staking a claim on a man who wasn’t mine out of unwarranted jealousy. I went to remove my grip but Alex’s free hand quickly settled over mine, holding me in place against his side, until we reached the table and he let me go, only to pull out my chair for me.

“I’m here to celebrate your success,” he finally answered as he took his seat, tilting his head toward the stacks of my plates, which sat, ready to be used, on the floating shelves in the open-concept kitchen.

“But how did you know I was going to be here?”

“You mentioned that Bex was supposed to be here with you to celebrate the launch of your plates, and I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“And the time?” Even though I remembered mentioning Bex’s and myMoreldate during my short breakdown in his car, I was sure I didn’t mention the time. I wasn’t upset, just genuinely curious and slightly suspicious that he happened to show up just at the right time for my reservation.

He leaned in close, and I mirrored him, our noses almost touching as he whispered, “I happen to do this for a living.” He raised his eyebrows at me, almost daring me to ask if he called to check on my reservation time or if he actually used his computer skills to hack into theMorelsystem. But I found I didn’t care. Whatever he did, I was grateful, because it meant I wasn’t here alone, moping over being stood up by Bex.

So instead of asking more questions, I rolled my eyes, settling back into my chair and picking up the menu. Within minutes, our waitress arrived at the table, taking our orders for drinks and food in one fell swoop, and then we were left alone again. The undercurrent of tension vibrated just beneath the quiet hum of the voices within the restaurant, and it was not lost on me that Alex and I were essentially not on speaking terms a week ago. Not only that, but the most recent time we spoke, I cried in his arms over my sister, and then he gave me flowers and detailed my car.

We were in a strange sort of limbo, one I wasn’t quite sure how to get us out of. It was partially why I hadn’t reached out to Alex since I cried in his car, the moment feeling like it was weeks ago despite it having only been a few days.

“I’ve missed you.” Alex’s statement interrupted my ruminating, his foot nudging mine under the table. The gentle contact along with his words was enough to break the tension. The truth was, I felt the same way, whether or not he misled me or I embarrassed myself in front of him.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I admitted, Alex’s lips curving at my words. The satisfaction in his dark eyes goaded me into admitting further, “You’re really my only friend.”

Our vulnerable exchanges brought us back on even ground, and from there, the conversation flowed as easily as it did before our fight. I caught Alex up on what I’d been doing at work, and he told me about some renovations he was having done to his home, getting my opinion on dining room tables and cabinet colors.

It only felt like minutes before the food was set at our table, steam and spices wafting up from the dishes and making my mouth water. We both took a moment to admire the food, everything plated to perfection, but quickly dug in, the only sounds coming from our mouths soft praises and sighs of delight.

“That looks so good,” I pointed at Alex’s pasta with my fork when I was almost through my meal, wishing that I had gotten two entrees just so I could experience as much food as possible.

“Here, we’ll share,” Alex pushed his plate toward me without pause. “Take some.”

“No, I couldn’t.” I waved off his offer, pushing his plate back toward him.

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Alex insisted. “Of course you can. Unless you’re weird about sharing food?”

“No,” I shook my head, but this time allowed him to slide his plate in my direction. “Peter doesn’t like sharing food,” I admitted, keeping my eyes on my fork as I twisted it slowly through the pasta, only flicking my eyes up to meet Alex’s when he responded.

“I’m not Peter,” he told me gruffly, jaw tight as he nudged his plate further in my direction, face softening when I finally took a bite of his meal. The soft pleasure in his eyes at sharing his food with me clogged my throat, warmth traveling down into my chest and spiraling through my limbs at the look. I managed to finish the last few bites of his meal while he finished mine, attempting to stave off having to respond to his statement or the look that made me feel fluttery and off-kilter, but when my fork scraped the bottom of the plate I was forced to look back up at Alex.

“I know you’re not Peter,” was all I managed, saved from having to say more when our waitress arrived, clearing away the empty plates.

“Any dessert today?” She asked, a bright smile on her face as she stacked plates on her forearm.

“We’ll split the ice cream and cookie duet.” Alex’s statement was a pointed one, and I allowed my lips to tilt up in a small smile at the proud look he shot in my direction. It didn’t waver as the waitress left the table, returning a few minutes later with one of the plates I created, a perfect scoop of ice cream in the divot of the dish with the cookie resting on the extended edge, just as Maya and I had planned.

“Can I get you both anything else?”

I opened my mouth to ask for the check, but Alex was quicker, shooting the waitress a polite semi-smile and asking instead, “Would you mind taking a picture of us?” He lowered his voice in a false whisper, “My girl here designed these plates, so we’re celebrating.”

My heart stuttered at the affectionate term, and I tried to get it under control with little success, mental reminders to maintain my distance doing little in the face of Alex’s eyes on mine, the possessive gleam telling me that the term wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was the same one he got when he saw me carrying a coffee he paid for or when he saw the silver envelopes stacked in my purse a couple weeks ago. The same look I couldn’t place, not until our conversation on that bench outside of the cafe, when I realized why not all his looks felt platonic.

The waitress visibly swooned at Alex’s sweet words, taking his offered phone as I stood up from my chair to stand closer to him, the plate resting on the table just in front of us. At the last moment, Alex wrapped both hands around my waist, settling me on his lap in a smooth motion. I looked up at him in surprise just as the waitress took the picture, and she turned the phone around to show us.

The lighting of the restaurant was moody and atmospheric, the hanging light above our heads providing just enough light to illuminate the plate and our faces. Mine was tilted up in Alex’s direction, and he smirked down at me, that dark hunger in his eyes evident as he held me in his arms, hands still spanning my waist in the photo. It looked…sensual. Not friendly. It looked like Alex was all too close to eating me up while I held my breath in anticipation.

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