But, god, Christopher did something crazy to my body.
I don’t know how to explain, but it was like he made me forget about the performance of it. The game. When he kisses me, all thought drains away and it’s just him and me, and the way he makes me feel.
I don’t like it. It makes me feel out of control.
But I refused to let him win. After yoga, I’d gotten a massage, just like I’d intended. I’d also treated myself to a manicure and pedicure. I rented a bike and escaped the hotel, riding to the local market where I shopped exotic goods before taking tea in a local emporium.
It was actually a good day. Exactly what I wanted and needed.
Only now I was back at the hotel, and had Christopher as a constant threat looming over me. Worse, I wanted to see him. Yes, my determination not to hide was true, but I also know myself. There’s a part of me that wants him to come find me. There’s no denying the kernel of disappointment in my sternum that I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes and there’s no sign of him.
How weak am I?
My salad comes, and I smile at the waiter, fixing my napkin on my lap to give my hands something to do. Making sure to cover my white, strapless sundress that highlights my new lightly tanned skin.
When I was getting ready I decided to go against everything I’d normally do when I’m trying to attract a man. I wore flat flip-flop sandals instead of heels. I wore my hair in a haphazard side bun, instead of messy bed head designed to make a guy think of sex. Lastly, no pouty makeup. I’d put on blush, mascara, and lip balm.
And honestly, I liked the results. I looked fresh faced. Gone was that look. That, oh my god, please make me forget look that had been haunting me since Trevor eloped with the dancer.
I take a bite of my salad, a mixture of leafy greens and mango chutney that is divine, and decide it’s good to be alone. That forcing myself out of my comfort zone is the best thing I can do for myself.
So I ate my salad, order my dinner, and try not to look behind me.
I didn’t even allow myself to read. Instead, I focus on the beauty that surrounds me, so different from Chicago’s urban sprawl. I hope for peace, and manage pretty well, but I’m a work in progress. I can live with that.
“Can I join you?” Christopher’s voice is soft behind me.
I try my best to ignore the shiver that races down my spine, the excitement jumping in my belly. Slowly, I turn and look up at him.
He’s standing there, his butterscotch hair blowing in the breeze, wearing a loose-fitting, un-tucked white shirt, and light gray beachy-type pants. My eyes meet his whiskey gaze and I can’t help but suck in a breath at the sight of him.
Why does he have to be so cute? So irresistible? I’d always gone for pretty boys, so his appeal is a surprise.
The “no” hovers, but wouldn’t tumble from my lips, warring with what I wanted to do.
He takes my lack of a response as an invitation and sits, smiling at me. “Did you have a good day?”
I run a hand over my neck, remembering his fingers there, pressing into my skin. I nod. “I did.”
“What did you do?” He smooths his hand over the white linen tablecloth, cleared away to accommodate my party of one.
I stare at him, unblinking. Trying to figure out what course of action to take. The waiter appears at our side, saving me from a decision when he bows at Christopher. “Are you joining madam for dinner, sir?”
“Yes.” Christopher doesn’t consult me on this; in fact, he doesn’t even look in my direction.
The waiter nods, raises a hand and a minute later a dinner setting is placed in front of him. “Do you require something to drink?”
Christopher takes the napkin and puts it in his lap. “I’ll take one of those strawberry smoothies, thanks.”
And I can’t help it, the smile twitches at my lips.
He gives me a wicked grin. “What?”
“That’s a very manly drink.”
He laughs. “It has rum in it.” He runs a palm over his throat. “I need something ice creamy after spending all day listening to doctors talk about refraction techniques.”
I let the smile spread and put my hands on the table. I think about calling him on his presumption that he could join me for dinner, but what’s the point? I’m not sure I have it in me to get him to leave, even though I should. But, what I can do is lay out some boundaries, preferring to go on the offensive instead of playing defense like this morning.
I meet his gaze. “You sitting here means nothing.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “We’ll see.”