He looks at me, and even though it's clear he doesn't want to talk about this, because I asked, he will. "As in ... sexually teasing me. She used to love withholding until I got this certain look on my face. Sort of a wild, rabid expression, I guess."
I know the exact look. I'd seen it earlier outside La Perla. "Oh. Yeah, I get it." I become engrossed in my menu so he can't tell how sick that knowledge makes me. I thought that look was for me alone. Apparently not.
"Cassie –"
"So, do you want to share a pizza, or—?"
"I don't look at you the same way I used to look at her."
I nod, and scan the list of pasta. "Of course you don't. I didn't think that –"
"Yes, you did." He pulls my menu down, and his eyes scream concern. "I know meeting her is uncomfortable for you. I understand. God knows, I can't even pretend I'm okay thinking about you with another man. But don't let her get under your skin. She'd love that. Why do you think she called me Bear in the first place? She knew you'd ask me about it."
I know he's right, but he's also aware that switching off one's insecurities is easier said than done. As much progress as I've made with Dr. Kate in the past few months, sometimes old habits resurface. Because of his past, Ethan is an expert in recognizing the symptoms. He watches to see if I want to discuss it. I don't, even though my mind is churning with a hundred questions about Vanessa. I know the answers won't make me feel better, so I force myself to smile instead.
"You're right," I say. "I'm sorry. Let's just have a nice night."
He takes my hand, and after he presses a reassuring kiss to my palm, we go back to perusing our menus.
"Do you think you'll call her?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.
He shrugs. "I'd like to get Matt's number. He's reached out a few times over the years, and I've always ignored him. Maybe I should make an effort to clear the air. I feel like I've grown enough to give him the apology I should have offered years ago."
"Did Vanessa apologize to you?"
He laughs. "God, no. She has a lot of items in her bag of tricks, but apologizing isn't one of them. It doesn't matter. I forgive her anyway."
I drop my menu. "You do?"
He gives me a self-satisfied look. "One hundred percent. I'm actually glad I saw her tonight."
Well, that's something I never expected him to say. I want to ask him more, but right now my anxiety is making my skin hot and my pulse race. He has this kind of wistful, nostalgic look on his face, and I've never seen that before when he's spoken about Vanessa.
Even when I hated Ethan, I still thought of him as my first love. That's why what happened with him hurt so much. He was my first and only. But seeing Vanessa tonight reminds me I wasn't his. She was. He loved her so much it ruined him when she betrayed him.
If she hadn't slept with Matt, would she and Ethan still be together? Would he be planning his wedding to her right now, instead of me?
A waitress comes over and pours our water. "Would you like to start with something to drink?"
Ethan opens his mouth to order wine for both of us as he usually does, but I cut him off. "Vodka and tonic, please. A double would be great."
It turns out to be the first of many.
???
The Apartment of Cassandra Taylor
New York City, New York
The next morning, I wake up to an empty bed. I squeeze the heel of my hand into my eye socket as a sharp pain fires behind my eyes. "Oh, ow."
Dumb vodka. Dumb me for drinking it. Dumb Ethan for letting me.
He'd asked me several times if I was okay during dinner, and each time I'd waved off his concerns. He knew I was lying, but he let me wallow. Pressing me to talk when I'm battling dark thoughts makes me a tad aggressive. He's been there, done that, and knows very well that sometimes when logic fails, alcohol triumphs.
Of course, he also knows that alcohol usually makes me horny, so his motives weren't all selfless. He'd given his stamp of approval when I'd slid my bare foot up his leg beneath the table and into his lap. After that, he'd had trouble speaking. Who knew my foot was so skillful?
I continued to tease him for the rest of the night. Did I really return from the bathroom and tell him I'd removed my panties? Yep. Did I swirl my tongue around my spoon in the most provocative way possible as I'd eaten dessert? Yep. Did I take his hand and kiss his knuckles, before coyly sliding his index finger into my mouth as we waited for our check? Yes, I did. All of the above, plus more.
I wanted to remind him of how good I could make him feel. That I was the one he wanted. Not her.