When we arrived at Prime Bistro Henry helped me from the car and I spotted Ben right away, waiting for me just inside the restaurant’s entrance.
He was dressed in gray dress pants and a white button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves, a wool jacket resting over his arm. I wondered if he’d worked today and if he’d seen Fiona, but all thoughts of her dissipated when he pulled me snuggly into his arms and pressed a kiss to my mouth.
“Hi, baby.” He smiled down at me and all was right with the world.
“Hi,” I returned, breathless from his tender and sweet kiss.
Ben took my hand, lacing his fingers between mine, and led me to our waiting table.
The restaurant was small and intimate, with a glowing stone fireplace at its center; creaky wood-plank floors were dotted with linen-covered tables. The aroma of fresh-baked bread and roasted meats permeated the air. A mouthwatering combination, if my reaction was any indication.
“This place is nice,” I commented as Ben helped me into an oversized red leather booth in the back.
“It’s great. I take my mom here anytime she comes to New York. She and I used to come here when I was a kid.” Ben spread his arms across the back of the booth, looking quite comfortable and happy to show me a place from his childhood.
It was nothing like the kid-friendly restaurants my parents had taken me and my brother, Porter, when we were kids. This wasn’t a peanut-shells-on-the-floor-with-a-play-set-in-the-back kind of place. The kind of place with those horribly sticky vinyl plastic tablecloths and grubby plastic menus, where you could be confident kids wouldn’t mess up anything. I was often reminded of how different Ben’s upbringing was from mine.
When the server appeared, we ordered drinks, a glass of red wine for me and a gin and tonic for him.
“How was your day? Did you work?”
He squeezed the wedge of lime into his drink and took a sip. “Yeah, swimsuit shoot. Went well, but it took longer than expected and I’m starving.”
Warm bread was delivered to our table and I buttered a slice for Ben, sliding the saucer toward him. “Here. Eat.”
“Food pusher,” he murmured under his breath, but one side of his mouth quirked up in a smile.
I buttered a slice for myself next and took a bite. I had to physically suppress my moan, the bread was so good. Crusty on the outside and warm and soft in the center. I hadn’t had bread like this since Paris. Ben’s eyes lifted and locked on mine. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing. We’d shared so many amazing times together in Paris and I didn’t want those memories to be overshadowed by the bitter way things had ended, with Fiona sending me packing in an attempt to keep Ben all to herself.
“What did you do today?” he asked, taking another sip of his drink.
“I looked for jobs all day. Applied to a couple of assistant positions for firms downtown.” I’d packed Ellie’s lunch before she’d left for work, too, a small sort of peace offering for all my erratic behavior lately. But I knew that’d just earn me another chuckle from him for being a food pusher.
“Any modeling agencies?” he asked, helping himself to a second slice of bread.
I nibbled on the bread in front of me, wondering if that was a twinge of jealousy I’d heard in his voice. He couldn’t possibly think that other male models would be interested in me. “No,” I confirmed. My adventures in the modeling world were done. I couldn’t handle the egos, the cattiness. “Investment banks, advertising agencies, places like that.”
He nodded, looking mildly relieved.
The server came by and we placed our order. Grilled salmon for Ben and a chicken Caesar salad for me.
I couldn’t help the burning questions still in my head. I wanted to move forward with him, but before I fully could, I knew I needed more answers. I took a sip of my wine for fortification. “Ben . . .”
“Hmm?”
“Was that the only, uh . . . time that Fiona spent the night with you in Paris?”
He reached across the table and took my hand, his thumb rubbing the back of my knuckles. “Yeah, baby. It was just that one time. She was sobbing and upset, so I couldn’t turn her away. I promise you, it wasn’t a regular occurrence.”
I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Okay. It’s just that you two were alone in Paris for three weeks without me. And I just feel like I don’t know what else might have happened.”
He shook his head, bringing my hand to his mouth and pressing a sweet kiss to the back of it. “Don’t. Don’t do that. I don’t want you playing the what-if game, replaying all the possible horrible scenarios in your brain. I was faithful to you, in my heart and in my head. I was too drunk to realize what was happening, and my body got used against me. It’s no excuse and I’ve regretted that night every day since then. It wasn’t clear to me at the time, but looking back, I know Fiona’s plan had been to seduce me. I never should have opened that door for her. What I woke up to in the middle of the night . . .”
I snatched my hand away. “Ben. Please, not so much detail. It still hurts to think about that night.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just thought it might help if you knew more about the situation.”
I drew a shaky breath. “You’re right. It might. But just not right now. I think I’d need more wine for that conversation and I don’t want to cry in public, so let’s just enjoy our meal.”
Fiona had been a constant source of tension in our short relationship so far. I didn’t trust her. And I hated that Ben had a weakness where she was concerned. It drove me mad, actually. But accepting him and moving forward with this relationship meant putting up with her. Something I wasn’t sure I could do successfully.
The mood between us had changed, grown tense by the time our food was delivered.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked.
I nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
We ate much of the meal in silence, though his intense gaze often rested on mine. It wasn’t my intention to create this silent, tense moment but I wasn’t sure how to get back to the easy, flirty banter we used to share.
I wondered if perhaps we weren’t meant to have a relationship. Maybe we were nothing more than a fling of convenience, two people living in close quarters who shared a brief, albeit intense, connection.
While Ben paid the check, I excused myself for the ladies room. He met me in the back corridor and escorted me out to the curb. I wasn’t sure when he’d called Henry—must have been when I was in the restroom—but his black car was parked along the curb, right in front of the restaurant. This guy was like a ninja, always appearing just in time. It was baffling to me. I’d never known anyone with a car and driver.