Page 92 of At His Beck & Call

Without thinking, I move along the sidewalk, pedestrians grumbling as I push past them to move away from the crosswalk.

She looks so beautiful, the candle in the center of the table illuminating her face. She looks different, too, more made up, maybe?

I come to a stop opposite the window, staring through the snow to the bright, cheerful scene, andNoah fucking Finnigansitting opposite her with a stupid grin on his face as they laugh together.

They’re on a date.

My whole body goes rigid, my hand crushing the cup, hot coffee pouring over my fingers and dripping down into the snow beneath my feet.

Lissa is mine.

That’s the only thought in my head as I see red and walk toward the window.

Chapter 32

Lissa

Noah is kind, friendly, and considerate. As soon as I arrived, he told me he knew I had to get back to Henry, and we agreed we should skip the appetizers to save time.

But he also hasn’t paused for a breath since I arrived. I’m not sure if he’s nervous, but he's been talking nonstop about the Reynolds case, and work is the last thing I want to be thinking about.

I’m not sure when Oliver would have returned to the office, but I missed saying goodbye to him today. I can’t stop thinking about him—how his afternoon was, what he’s doing right now, and who he's with.

“You like the meatballs?” Noah asks, finally. It’s the first question he’s sent my way in quite a while.

“I do. This place is great, it’s got a wonderful atmosphere.”

“Yeah. I’ve been here a few times, the manager is a friend of my dad’s, and he’s been running this place since the eighties.”

“It was a good choice,” I say with a smile. He’s nervous, I think, that’s why he’s been talking a mile a minute.

He’s wearing a forest-green shirt that he didn’t wear to work today. He must have gone home to change, and he’s styled hishair. It’s nothing remarkable, but it’s nice to have a man make an effort for me.

“So, you’re married, right?” he asks, making all the good feelings I was trying to conjure up evaporate immediately.

“Separated.”

“Right. I remember you mentioning your husband to Adelaide. I’m sorry. That must be tough.”

Has this guy ever actually been on a date before? What a question.

“We haven’t been together for a while,” I say, trying to soften the tightness that’s come into my voice.

“Oh god, sorry. Yeah, I didn’t mean it like that, I just… I remember you saying something about it.”

He takes a long swallow of his wine, and I do the same. We’ve finished the bottle between us, but most of it ended up in my glass. I don’t usually drink this much. I’m feeling pretty tipsy, which is another sign that I should end things before I say anything stupid.

Noah seems to sense the finality of the gesture as I place the glass of wine on the table and lean back in my chair. He smiles reassuringly at me, checking his watch, and nods.

“I think you said you’d need to leave just before eight, good timing, right?”

It’s like he’s seeking approval from his mom or something.

“Yeah. Thanks… I had a good time.”

His smile slips, but he rallies quickly. I guess I didn’t keep my voice as even as I had intended. Ihavehad a good time, but I have no interest in seeing him again. Noah’s nice and good-looking, but he doesn’t compare to Oliver. The number of times my brain has wandered to my boss through the evening is embarrassing.

Whatever this thing is with Oliver, I want to ride it out until he’s done with me. I don’t even feel like I have a choice in thematter anymore. So much for me keeping a boundary between us…