Page 47
There’s no point fighting him. He’ll only grow more and more relentless.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
NINETEEN
TATE
As requested, we’re seated in the private dining room, a glass wall separating us from the rest of the diners, and away from prying eyes, giving us the privacy to finally sit down and talk.
Unfortunately, we’ve hardly spoken a word, and I’m about to go out of my mind from the silence.
Talia’s gaze darts around the dimly lit restaurant as she toys with a strand of her hair. She looked incredible this morning when she left for the office, but now, in the silk black dress I bought for her and matching strappy heels, she’s sublime. I arranged a car service to take us from her office to the restaurant, not wanting her to be the one to drive us around. I’ve noticed she hasn’t driven her new truck, preferring to use my old pickup, but that doesn’t exactly say fine dining, and I can’t drive anyway.
“The food looks good.” I tap the menu. “Do you want to share an appetizer?”
Her eyes bulge when she looks at the menu. “Holy sh—These prices are insane.”
I snort.
“What?” Her brow wrinkles.
“You don’t have to worry about the price. I’ve got it covered. Get whatever you want.”
She goes to say something but snaps her mouth shut instead and scans the menu. “I don’t even know what half this stuff is. What is sous vide?”
“It’s a fancy way of cooking something.” Honestly, I have no idea.
“See, even you don’t know what it means.” She chews her lip, and when the server arrives, she panic-orders the first thing on the menu.
“I’ll get the same. Thank you.” I hand them our menus and settle into my chair. “I noticed you’ve hardly touched the money I left you.”
She stops fiddling with her butter knife. “I don’t need it. Some of it was spent on Ethan when he was born, and your truck needed a few repairs last winter. Whatever I used, I’ll pay it back.”
“You’re not paying me back, Talia. I don’t know why you wasted it on that beat-up old thing, anyway, when I bought you a new one. Have you ever driven it?”
Something in her expression makes me pause. Her eyes fall. “I love that truck. It’s where we spent most of our honeymoon.”
“I’d hardly call that a honeymoon. But now we can go on a real one—the Bahamas or Seychelles. Imagine the places we can visit. You’ll forget all about those dingy motels and service station hot dogs.”
Whatever disguise she’s been wearing drops, revealing her true emotions.
“Wait, did I—”
“Is that what you want? To forget?” She grips the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. “Did you hate it that much?”
Fuck. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” Her voice rises, and I’m thankful for the glass wall.
“How is this going to work if you won’t even give me a hint at what I’m doing wrong? Tell me what you want? Because I’m sitting here as clueless as I was when you sent me packing.”
She grabs her purse. I can tell she’s fighting to keep a handle on her emotions. “I want my husband. Not the one who flaunts his money, but the one who danced with me in the rain and ate greasy burgers in the cab of his pickup after we got married. You seem to think money will fix everything. My clothes weren’t good enough for this restaurant. They weren’t good enough for your fans during the premiere last year. Neither was our apartment. Why don’t you just trade me in for a newer model next?”
I can feel this whole situation slipping through my fingers like sand. There’s nothing to grab onto to save myself as Talia grows more upset.
“Money doesn’t fix everything, and it will not fix us.” Her chair screeches across the floor as she abruptly stands, throwing her napkin down on the table. “This restaurant. The expensive truck. The clothes that probably cost more than my monthly paycheck. Those aren’t things I want, Tate.”
The server appears in the doorway, before thinking better and doing a 180-degree turn. Good call. Maybe I can join him.
