Page 62 of Deny Me

Twenty-Six

Luella (2:34pm): Are you ever coming back to family lunches? Jameson told me what happened, and while it sucks, you’re still my family and I expect you here. Don’t make me come drag your sad ass here next week. Final warning.

I didn’t getout of bed Sunday, so when Monday rolled around, I’d had enough of my own shit. I smelled, my stomach was full of junk, and my apartment was starting to stink bad from all the takeout. I needed to put an end to this. I had never been really depressed before, but I figured getting up out of my own funkiness was a place to start.

I was a woman on a mission; armed with a cute new dress, fuchsia pumps, and lipstick to match. Deciding to get out of the apartment no matter what, I grabbed my laptop and headed to my usual coffee spot to get some work done.

I still ignored the email from Italy. It could wait until I didn’t feel like vomiting every time I looked at it. I was in the middle of responding to a different email when I heard a familiar voice.

“I’d recognize those legs anywhere.” Looking up, I did my best to hide my cringe at seeing Taylor at my table. It was amazing that after being with Jameson, someone who I thought was beyond handsome before was just okay then.

“Hey Taylor.”

“I’ve been hoping to see you around. I know our first date didn’t end the way we wanted and I was hoping a guy could get a second chance.” He smiled down at me and I paused to take time and remind myself that he looked like Scott Eastwood and he wasn’t so bad.

Despite his looks, my immediate reaction was to say hell no.

“Come on. I always see you working so hard here and I would love to treat you to a nice dinner and drinks,” he asked softly. I was reminded of the saying the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. I physically shuddered at the thought of being with Taylor or anyone else. “Cold?” he asked, mistaking my reaction. “Why don’t you let me buy you another drink to warm you up before I leave.”

It was nice. And while I was nowhere near ready to be physical with anyone, I reminded myself I needed to get out there and figured, why not Taylor. So, hesitantly, I agreed. “Sure. To the black coffee and the date.”

His excited smile did nothing to pique my interest more for our date.

Which led me to the following Tuesday night when I was walking out of my apartment and waiting for Taylor to pick me up for a date. He pulled his Porsche up to the curb and leaned over to open my door. I already regretted the night but I needed to push on. The first time was going to be the hardest, and I needed to get it over with.

“Hey, Beautiful.” My stomach churned when he said it. Jameson called me that and it sounded so much sexier and sincere coming from his deep baritone than from Taylor’s nasally voice. Why was I here? To move on. It didn’t mean anything, I just needed to move on.

“Hey.” My response lacked excitement and emotion.

“So, I was thinking about our last date, and I remembered you knew the owner of King’s. I figured we could go there.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. My world spun on its axis, my stomach bottomed out. Of all the fucking places. My mouth was dry and I was unable to form words as all the possibilities went flying through my mind.

But then I remembered how Jameson said he would wait for me. I didn’t want that from him, and I knew he was stubborn, not easily deterred. I needed to make it clear to him that I wasn’t going back to him. He needed to remember that I didn’t do relationships. I didn’t want him hanging around and putting his life on hold any longer.

Despite the chills of dread breaking out across my skin, I knew it was the best thing to do, and I didn’t say anything to change our date that night. Who knew … maybe Jameson wasn’t even there.

Walking into King’s with Taylor’s hand on the small of my back, I knew immediately that I was out of luck. Jameson was standing behind the bar. My heart kicked up the pace at the way his muscles flexed when he lifted the bucket of ice. I drank him in while his back was turned to me.

“Where should we sit?” Taylor asked, bringing my attention back to him.

At another barwas the first thing that crossed my mind. Instead, I pointed and suggested, “Maybe the back corner.”

“Nah. We’ll never get good service back there. They’ll forget us. Let’s sit at one of these center tables.”

Clenching my jaw, I bit back my sharp retort, wanting to call him out for even bothering to ask me when he was just going to ignore me.

Pulling my chair up, I lifted my head for one more glance at Jameson, only to have my heart stop when my gaze collided with a stormy, angry blue under lowered brows. My initial shock pulled a sharp breath from my chest and I stood there lost for a moment before swallowing and letting an indifferent mask cloak my face. With my eyebrow cocked, I forced a close-lipped smile infused with the confidence I used to have.

Unable to hold his glare, I turned away and sat down. It wasn’t long before Angela, one of the waitresses, came walking over with her blonde ponytail swinging behind her. When she took in our table, her head tipped to the side in confusion. Not wanting to explain in front of Taylor, I gave her a friendly smile and pretended nothing was wrong with the fact that I was on a date with someone who wasn’t the man I had been with last week.

Fuck.

“Hey, Angela!” I forced joy into my tone, praying she didn’t ask anything. “How are you? This is my friend, Taylor.”

“Good,” she responded slowly, still uncertain. “And is this your business friend?”

“Business?” Taylor laughed, like it was hilarious that I could have anything to do with business. “That’s cute. No, this lucky lady is my date tonight.”

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