Till Death(19)

“And?” she queried when I didn’t continue.

I sat back in the seat. “And I . . . part of me, a very big part of me, wants to have dinner with him.”

Miranda didn’t immediately respond as we came to the first of what felt like five hundred stoplights. “But?”

“But . . .” I dragged my fingers over the strap of my bag. But . . . hell, it was hard to even finish the thought, but Cole scared me. He’d scared me back when we first met, because I’d never felt anything like what I had when he would simply look at me. Like there was no one else in the world and he only saw me. When we talked, we never ran out of things to say, and when he had kissed me? I still remembered how crazy he made me feel with just a kiss, as if he was lighting every cell in my body on fire. Being with Cole had made me feel like I was on the edge of a cliff, more than willing to fall off. I’d never felt anything like that again. Not even a smidgen.

He terrified me.

Because he symbolized everything I should’ve had but didn’t.

I couldn’t admit that out loud, because I was afraid of not explaining it correctly. “I don’t know,” I said finally, easing my grip. “Maybe I will call him.”

“Maybe,” she murmured, but it was obvious she didn’t believe me.



The steakhouse hadn’t been here when I’d been around and it was surprisingly busy for the notoriously vacant downtown. Our table was in the back of the narrow first floor, a dimly lit seating area near a staircase that led to the second-floor private dining area I doubt saw a lot of action.

The skin along the back of my neck tingled as our waitress, a blonde woman in her late twenties, poured water into glasses. She introduced herself as Liz. No one seemed to be paying any attention to us, so I ignored the sensation, and told myself to stop being stupid.

Miranda glanced at her phone. “Jason should be here any minute.”

Slipping my fingers under my hair, I rubbed the nape of my neck as I glanced around. There was a table of men in business suits catty-corner to ours. All of them middle-aged. None of them looked familiar. All of them were focused on the dark-haired man at the head of the table. Whoever he was, he gave the impression of being important. “The place is really nice.”

“Opened up about three years ago,” Miranda said, glancing at the menu. “It’s lasted longer than most nonchain restaurants.”

“Do you come here often?” I asked just as the man at the table looked over. Our gazes connected. His eyes widened as he reached up and adjusted his red tie. Caught staring at them, I looked away.

She shook her head as she flipped over the menu. “Not really, but now that you’re back and you live so close, I plan on making you meet me here at least once a week after work.”

I grinned as I looked up again. Unable to focus on the menu, my gaze drifted across the restaurant and past a tall man wearing a white button-down and dark coat, then shot back to him. My brows rose as I lowered my hand to the table.

Took me a moment, but I recognized the man striding toward us. His hair was darker and he wasn’t wearing glasses, but it was that cute boyish face all grown up.

“Jason?” I pushed back from the table.

His lips split into a smile as I rose. “Sasha, look at you.”

Emotion clogged my throat as I stepped out. I hadn’t expected to feel so much seeing him, but I squeezed my eyes shut as I wrapped my arms around him. He tensed a little and then stiffly hugged me back.

Oh man, that was Jason. Always all kinds of awkward, even when he’d held me while I cried last time.

“You look great,” I said, pulling back as I looked up at him. “No glasses?”

“Lasik,” he said, dipping his chin. “And you look amazing, Sasha. The years have . . . they have been kind to you.”

I laughed as I stepped back to my chair, feeling a bit wobbly in the knees. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t I get a hug?” Miranda pouted.

Jason chuckled as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of his seat. He had a wiry, tall frame and that hadn’t changed. “Maybe because I see you like twice a week and I haven’t seen Sasha in a decade.”

“Whatever. I should get a hug every single time you see me.”

He shook his head as he folded his hands on the table. My gaze dropped and I saw a glimmer of a gold band. He was married? His brown eyes coasted over my face. “I almost can’t believe you’re sitting here. Wow. It’s been too long.”

“It has.” I wet my lip, deciding I needed to get over the hard part. “I just want to say I’m sorry for the way . . . for the way I left things after everything that happened. You were my friend. You tried to be there for me, and I—”

“It’s okay.” He waved his hand. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“No,” I insisted. “I do.”

Jason looked over at Miranda. “Tell her she doesn’t need to apologize.”

“She needs to apologize,” she replied.

“I’m sorry,” I offered again. “Sincerely.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary, but I accept.” Jason looked up to his left as our waitress appeared. After placing an order for a bottle of white wine, he turned back to me. “So Miranda was telling me you had some problems with your car. If you have any questions once the adjuster shows up, call me. I can help you out.”