The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(71)

That means he’s kept this dumb fortune in his pocket or in his wallet for three weeks. Brought it with him everywhere. Brought me with him everywhere.

No man has ever done that, cared enough about me to want to carry me with him. I remember giving my dad a wallet-sized image from my school photos where I wrote ’To: Daddy, Love: Cassie’ on the back in pink gel pen and finding it in a junk drawer not long after, the corner bent and crumpled.

But this man…

All this time, he’s been showing me.

Showing me he’s not the same. That he’s real, he feels things for me, he wants to try something with me. That he wants me.

And all this time, through the dozens of times he’s told and showed me, I’ve ignored it. Instead, so stuck in the trap of trying to protect myself, I couldn’t see there as a man in front of me willing to slay dragons for me, with me. Willing to do what it took to keep my heart safe and sound, to give me all of my girlish daydreams of family and friends and love.

And I threw it away.

But he couldn’t even throw away a silly fortune from a cookie.

Oh God, what have I done?

My hands scramble, looking for the breakdown of dates Gabi makes each week for us to keep track of.

Maya Richards and Luke Dawson: 6 p.m. Valentina’s.

I look at my watch—5:45.

Shit!

I need… I need to stop this like one of those goofy rom-coms where she’s running to the wedding chapel or chasing a plane. I can’t let him go on this date. I can’t do it.

So I grab my keys and phone and bag and run, not even bothering to put on a coat as adrenaline takes over, and I rush to the stairs, not even waiting for an elevator, and drive my baby to go find my man before it’s too late.

And the entire drive there, as I flip people off and scream at rush hour traffic, I pray I’m not too late, that I haven’t fucked this up too much.





Thirty-Three





-Cassie-





“Hey, Cassie, I didn’t know you were coming in today!” Maria, the hostess at Valentina’s, another of the restaurants I frequently use for dates, says. I’m winded, panting because, of course, there was no close street parking. I had to park at the township lot nearly five blocks away, not even bothering to pay the meter. If I get towed, so be it. A tow truck is what got me into this mess, right?

“I’m not.” She looks at me like I’m insane because, well, I am. I’m sweaty and panting and panicking. “I mean, I am.”

“Sorry, babe, but you’re not on my reservation list tonight, and we’re booked, I—”

“No, not me. Someone else.”

“Oh! You’re on a date with someone else?” She looks excited for me. “How exciting!”

“No!” I shout the words because I’m literally mid-mental breakdown and one step away from pushing her aside and storming in to stop Luke from falling for who, quite reasonably, would be a perfect match. Definitely a more mentally stable one, the snooty librarian mumbles under her breath, and the sex fiend nods in agreement.

God, I really am insane, aren’t I?

“No, I have a client here tonight. He’s on a date.” Her brow wrinkles, and I try to drum up some semblance of professionalism. “I need to speak with him before the date begins.” She looks skeptical. “It’s incredibly important, Maria.” My business tone is infiltrating my voice and selling her on the need.

“What’s his name?” I sigh with relief.

“Luke. Luke Dawson. Gabrielle, my assistant, set it up.” Her finger runs down the list, stopping on a line that’s crossed out.

“It looks like he’s here, but I think his date is as well?” My gut drops. I have to do it regardless, but I was definitely hoping Maya wouldn’t witness this.

“Can you direct me to their table?” Maria nods, pointing behind her, but I don’t hear the words. As soon as I have a direction, I blurt a ‘thanks’ and rush through the entryway.

Scanning the dim room, I curse the romantic lighting. It’s great for a date but shit for a romantic gesture when you need to find the man of your dreams before he slips away. But it doesn’t take long. Soon my eyes stop on dark hair and a huge smile, warm eyes, and the sound of his laugh as his head tips back, traveling over the sound of diners and low music.

Luke.

And in front of him is the back of a blonde head.

No, no, no!

She’s here. And he’s laughing with her. The comfortable belly laugh, laugh number one that he gives me when I say something silly or when Chris hit on Jordan for the third time. The one that doesn’t say ‘hello, stranger,’ but ‘hey, you’re my people and I enjoy your company.’

It sucks to be so good at my job. Or maybe… maybe…

As I stand there, contemplating what on earth to do, my mind moves to dark places. Maybe he was a facade all along, the open, honest, warm man. Maybe he’s like that with everyone, kind and generous. Maybe he makes everyone feel like they’ve found a home, makes everyone feel comfortable in their skin. Sells it with warm smiles and belly laughs. Perhaps I wasn’t special to him because if I was, then how the hell is he already over me, over us, on a date and laughing like he’s known her his entire life?