I laugh as he pats his thin arm. “Then I’ll have the mussels.”
“Yes!” He fist pumps the air and turns, pointing a finger at the other staff. “I told you!”
I raise my eyebrows, his infectious happiness making me smile.
“I’m sorry. We had a bet over who could sell the mussels first.”
“You set me up!” I gasp.
“I’m sorry!” He takes my hand. “Gosh. Have whatever you want. Here. You can even have me. My bum is peachy.” He wiggles his hips.
I think I found my new favorite place.
“I want the mussels,” I reply, patting his arm. “Really.”
“Done. Ella, tell Barry we need a mussel dish. And not his muscles—he can keep those.” He slides in opposite me and leans in. “Believe me, there’s nothing nice about those overcooked muscles of his.”
I smile.
“So. Who are you hiding from?”
“Tom!” A girl—Ella—appears from the kitchen and scolds him. “You can’t ask people personal stuff like that!”
Tom rolls his eyes. “Oh gosh, El. If she doesn’t want to tell me, she won’t. Talking helps, girl.”
She turns soft brown eyes on me. “Just tell him to piss off. He has no boundaries.”
“It’s okay.” I run my thumb along my glass. “I’m hiding from my boyfriend.”
“Oh no,” Tom sighs dramatically. “It’s always the men, isn’t it? I’d tell you to be g*y like me but I realize that contradicts my last comment.”
Ella sits too. “Tom, if she was g*y like you, she’d be into women.”
“Like you.”
“Precisely.”
So I’m sitting in a restaurant in Sydney, Australia, telling a g*y man and a lesbian how I’m hiding from my boyfriend who isn’t really my boyfriend.
There’s something I never thought I’d say.
Tom knocks on the table. “You tell us everything.”
“Do you make it a habit to have this conversation with everyone that walks through the door?” I ask with a wry smile.
“Of course I do. Why ask questions if you don’t want to find anything out?”
I’ll concede that point.
“So why are you hiding?”
I bring my glass to my lips. “Because he’s an ass**le.”
Ella nods sympathetically. “There’s a reason I’m not into them.”
“Nothing wrong with arseholes,” Tom counters.
“Enough.” Ella points at him. “What’s your name?”
“Dayton.”
“Tell me everything.”
And I do. Even as my mussels arrive—which they help me eat, leading to another order, a plate of fries, and a second bottle of wine—I talk. I tell them how we met in Paris and agreed to leave it behind. I tell them how we ‘met randomly one night when he was in the city’ and he ‘convinced me to come with him’ around the world. How he drives me crazy and makes me happy and blows my body up with every feeling imaginable all of the time.
And I tell them how I’m so very, very scared of what it all means.
“You must care, right?” Ella licks her fingers. “I mean, how often do you agree to go on a trip around the world with your ex-boyfriend?”
“That’s right,” Alana, the other girl, agrees. “And it’s written all over your face. You love him.”
Jared, one of the guys, throws a fry at her. “You can’t just tell people who they love, Alana!”
She throws him an evil look, and Ella leans into me. “They’re in love denial.”
I nod. “Ah. He kind of has a point though.”
“Just don’t tell her that.”
I nod again.
“So, darling, what are you going to do?” Tom asks, cutting through Jared’s and Alana’s sniping.
“I’d like to know that myself.”
My head snaps up. Aaron’s standing in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and his tie and jacket discarded.
I sigh into my glass. “Of course he’d find me.”
“Is that Aaron Stone? Stone Advertising?” Ella whispers. “We’ve been trying to get them to work with us for ages.”
Tom whistles before I can answer. “Is it hot in here or is the heat wave playing havoc with my hormones?”
I close my eyes and swallow my laugh.
“Dayton? Are you going to answer the question?” His voice cuts through me like a knife.
Ella nudges me and I look at her. “Yes, it is.”
“Holy shit, girl. I don’t even like men but he might just turn me.”
Aaron’s jaw visibly clenches. “Not that question.”
“Oh, what am I going to do?” I look at my glass. “I’m going to sit here with my new friends, drink wine, and bitch about what complete and utter dickheads straight men are.”
Jared and the other guy, Ollie, cry a protest. Alana throws fries at them.
“Or you’re gonna get off your pretty little ass, get in the car waiting outside, and come back to the hotel with me.”
“I think I’ll go with my option, thanks.”
“I wasn’t asking you, Dayton.”
“You were telling me, right?” I finish my wine and stand, staring him down. “Because you get to do that. You get to tell me to do whatever the hell you want without considering how I might feel about it, don’t you?”
“You’ve had too much to drink.” His voice is controlled but his eyes betray his shock at my words.
“The only person who decides that is me. I still have that, or are you telling me that too?” I grab my purse and look at everyone around the table. “I’m sorry. It was great to meet you guys, but my ass**le says it’s time to leave.”
I dig my hand into my purse for some cash, but Aaron throws some bills down before I can.
“I can pay for my own dinner.”
“And you’re not going to.” He takes my upper arm in a strong grip and nods to everyone. “I’m sorry about this. That should cover the bill. Have a great night.”
I’m pulled, open mouthed, out of the restaurant and into a waiting black car. I snap my jaw shut when he slides in next to me with a slam of the door.
“Back to the hotel, Martin.”
I fold my arms over my chest, my head feeling a little fuzzy. Maybe a bottle of wine to myself wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had, but I’ll blame Aaron for that. He makes me need to lose myself.