Page 22 of Lennox Lane

“Lennox is comfortable doing a lot of things that should come with consequences,” Lane stated.

The waiter approached with the facial expression of a man trying very hard to pretend he had not heard the phrase ‘couch pissy’ in a luxury dining establishment. “Would you like me to remove this from the table?” He asked.

“Yes, please,” Lane said immediately.

“No,” Devin said at the same time.

Lane looked at him as he gave a small shrug. “Evidence.”

Lane wanted to laugh, but her irritation was too sharp to make room for humor. The waiter picked up the pack with two fingers and disappeared so quickly that Lane would tip extra for the speed at which he moved.

“I’m assuming this date is over?” He asked, folding his napkin and placing it beside his plate.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely as she exhaled in frustration.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.”

“I know. I’m apologizing because I unknowingly invited you into the blast radius of someone who has the emotional IQ of a rock.”

“That happens often?” He asked.

“No, this was a first, and it’ll be the last,” Lane answered vehemently.

Devin nodded, looking down at the table awkwardly. The easy warmth from the beginning of dinner had thinned, replaced by wounded pride. Lane couldn’t blame him, because if the tables were turned and some unhinged woman showed up to make a scene, Lane would’ve morphed into Speedy Gonzales to get the hell out. No man wanted another man interrupting his date with props and proprietary energy, especially when the other man had already won the room by being outrageous.

“I should go,” Lane said. “Thank you for dinner or almost dinner.”

Devin stood when she did, offering to take care of the check, and Lane let him know it wasn’t necessary. After insisting, Lane agreed only to find out Lennox had already handled it. Devin tried to hide his irritation, but Lane saw it in his body language clear as day. He wasn’t unreasonable for his feelings when he’d been robbed of the chance to recover even the smallest bit of dignity from the evening, and Lane was sure Lennox did it for that reason alone. Lane closed her eyes briefly; of course, his menacing ass paid the check after nuking her date with incontinence propaganda.

Devin reached for his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Well. This was certainly a memorable evening,” his voice filled with disappointment.

“I really am sorry.”

He looked at her, and his expression softened by a fraction. “You seem like a great woman, Lane.”

“I am, but?” she asked.

“But I’m not interested in competing with whatever tonight was,” he let her know.

Lane could have corrected him and let him know there was nothing to compete with. She could’ve told him that Lennox Jackson was a mistake with excellent bone structure who’d forfeited all claims when he disappeared and then reappeared with another woman. Most importantly, she could have told him she belonged to herself and no man got to mark territory at her dinner table like an untrained animal.

Instead, she only nodded. “That’s fair.”

Devin walked her out like a gentleman, because of course he did. At the front of the restaurant, he gave her a polite hug that still did nothing for her body, heart, or mood. He wished her all the best, especially with Diaper Dan, causing her to laugh genuinely. Devin walked away, and Lane stood beneath the soft glow of the steakhouse entrance, orange sequins catching the light as rage continued simmering beneath every inch of expensive fabric.

Her phone buzzed, and for one wild second, she thought it might be Lennox, but it was Nova.

Nova: How’s the date? Need NFT or pumpernickel?

Me: Neither. I need bail money and a shovel.

Nova: Lennox?

Me: Lennox.

Cadence: What did he do?

Lane looked through the restaurant windows, scanning the street for any sign of him and saw none.