Wherever It Leads(59)

I gasp, unmoving. I just wait for him to appear.

He’s dressed in a black suit, a satiny lilac tie hanging down his torso. Fenton’s eyes bore into mine, feeling me out.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach as I try to ascertain what the hell is happening.

“Everything is good,” Grant says. “Thank you.”

I hear his voice across the table, but it sounds like he’s a million miles away. I’m held captive by a pair of steely grey eyes that display a mixture of tenderness and irritation in their depths.

“Is that true, Miss? Is everything good here?” Fenton asks, ignoring Grant. He keeps a few steps away from me, his hands going straight to his pocket. I wonder if he’s having a hard time not reaching for me.

My hands, too, duck under the table so I don’t make a fool out of myself. They itch to grab him, lace through his silky strands and down his chest.

I nod, afraid to smile, too nervous to frown.

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Fenton replies. “I’d be disappointed if it weren’t. Most people fall in love with our service.”

“It’s been fabulous,” I whisper. “But I think falling in love is a bit of a stretch.”

The words tug a smile on my lips, and I’m immediately rewarded with one on his handsome face. “Everyone defines those things differently.”

“That’s true. Some people don’t believe you can even fall in love at all. What a shame.”

Fenton chuckles, the resonation drowning out Grant’s attempt to break into the conversation. “And some people think it’s about chemistry. How would you define the chemistry this evening?”

I glance at Grant, who’s watching us with an inquisitive eye. “I had fairly high expectations and they fell flat right away. But as the evening has progressed, things seem to be improving. More or less,” I add, just to throw him off.

“We do make a tremendous effort to put your needs over ours.”

“Is that so?” I laugh, my cheeks heating at him putting my needs over his every single time. He reads my thoughts and smirks.

“So, it’s safe to assume that you’re the owner of this fine establishment?” I raise my eyebrows, taunting him. I should’ve made the connection when I heard the name, so similar-sounding to his other restaurants, but I didn’t. Pano is so much more low-key, I didn’t think anything of it. But it’s true—this is his place. Now I can’t stop from wondering how Grant and I ended up here, but it’s no coincidence. It can’t be.

A smirk tickles his lips and he watches me with caution. “I am.”

I ask him a silent question and he shuts me down without a word. Instead, he turns to Grant. “I will take care of your bill this evening since your beautiful dining partner felt the experience tonight didn’t meet her standards.”

“I had a gift card someone gave me yesterday on the Pier. But, yeah, I’ll save it for later. Maybe we can come again, babe.”

Fenton bristles and keeps his eyes on mine. I grin, but don’t correct Grant. It’s far too much fun to watch Fenton’s reaction.

“If you don’t mind calling in a customer satisfaction survey at the end of your night, we’d really appreciate it,” Fenton says directly to me.

“Oh, I’d give this place five stars,” Grant gushes.

“What about you?” Fenton asks.

I shrug. “I’d give it four. Maybe five, but it’s lacking a few details that would really put it over the top. A few notes aren’t rounded out, if you know what I mean.”

He grins. “Please call us when you leave and tell us how we can improve your experience.”

My head shakes side to side in disbelief. Cheeky f*cker.

He laughs, nods to Grant, and moseys his way back through the restaurant until he disappears out of sight.





“Well, I guess that’s it,” Grant smiles, standing up from the table. He wipes his mouth with the linen napkin and tosses it on his plate.

Somehow I managed to make it through dinner. Grant chatted away, talking about dirt bikes and poker, two subjects that I would have conversed with him about before we broke up. Tonight, I realize how much I really don’t care about either of them and how many hours of my life I wasted trying to become interested for his benefit. He never learned about books or yoga for me.

Every now and then he seemed to realize it was a total one-way conversation and he’d slip in a question about Brady or my schooling. My answers were half-assed because I know he didn’t really want to know. He wanted to slip back into our normal routine, of him leading the relationship and me happily playing along, but that wasn’t happening. This dinner was for information or an end to his games.

Over the course of the past few months, things have changed. I’ve changed. I’ve had to get stronger, lean on myself more. And watching the power shift between the two of us, I like it. I’m sure part of the way I feel is having something to compare it to.

“Brynne? You ready?” he asks. He’s clearly enjoying the fact that there’s no bill to pay and I realize that he’s not even going to leave a tip. My annoyance creeps up through the bliss of seeing Fenton and I clench my jaw closed. I give him the benefit of the doubt and wait a few seconds, but he makes no move to get his wallet.