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I cringed inwardly. "And I've missed you," I confessed, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them.
"You did?" Wayne's surprise was evident in his tone.
"You grew on me," I replied, a wry smile playing on my lips.
"Then why did you break it off?" Wayne pressed, his voice tinged with a hint of hurt.
I let out a heavy sigh. "We weren't dating," I reminded him, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
"I wanted to, but you wouldn't make a commitment," Wayne countered, his voice laced with frustration.
My gaze drifted to the window as my mind briefly wandered to my tumultuous family history. "You know my history," I said, the bitterness in my voice unmistakable.
Wayne's voice was gentle as he responded, "Your parent's history doesn't have to be yours."
I shook my head, refocusing on the present. "I was wondering if you wanted to go dancing?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Dancing?" Wayne echoed, a hint of confusion in his tone.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, you know, music plays and you move to it," I teased, a glimmer of amusement in my eyes.
Wayne's voice held a touch of amusement. "Cute. Where would you like to go?"
"Your choice," I replied, a hint of a challenge in my voice.
"Can I take you to dinner first?" Wayne asked, his tone hopeful.
I hesitated for a moment, knowing that a quiet setting with Wayne could be uncomfortable. But the prospect of a free meal and dancing afterwards was too tempting to pass up. "Where?" I asked, conceding.
"Anywhere you want, your choice. You know I'm making good money, and I can afford it," Wayne replied, a touch of pride in his voice.
I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that Wayne's wealth came from his father's jewelry store, a business he was ill-equipped to run. "All right, let's do it," I said, a hint of resignation in my voice.
“You choose,” I replied.
“Italian?”
“Fine. Where?”
“Trattoria Carmelo.”
“Sounds nice. I can meet you there,” I said.
“I can send my driver.”
I was beginning to regret calling Wayne at all. Now I knew why I ended it besides the constant texting.
“What time?” I asked.
“Say 8 p.m. He’ll be waiting in front of your building. Dress nice.”
“I plan on it.”
“Can’t wait to see you, Erika.”
I hung up first as I cursed myself for my poor judgement. Sitting around in my favorite red sweatpants eating a pint of pistachio ice cream would be better than spending the night with Wayne. On the bright side, I was getting into Surge without waiting. I’d read that the lines were typically around the block.
I gulping down what was left of my wine before I went to my closet to choose something appropriate for a night in a club. After some sifting, I found a short black dress with a plunging neckline. The last time we talked in-person, Wayne couldn’t keep his eyes off my tits, so I expected him to be just as obvious this time.
