“Hey, Anna. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Would you like for me to come to your room to escort you to the vehicle?” Jorge asks, his manners ever present.
“That’s sweet of you, but I’ll meet you downstairs because they charge an arm and a leg to park at this hotel because it’s downtown.”
“You sure?” he asks with a bit of skepticism in his voice. “It’s really no trouble for me to come up and make sure you’re safe.”
“I’m positive,” I reply as I shut off my curling iron and double check my makeup. “This hotel is perfectly safe.”
“All right. I’ll see you in a bit.”
We end our call, and it finally hits me that I’m about to face Jorge after the way I ran away from him. A jitter passes through me, but I quickly shake it off, reminding myself it’s okay to be tough and live life the way I want.
I double check the modest, black cocktail dress I’m wearing and hope I’m not overdressed for wherever Jorge is taking me for dinner.
After waiting in the lobby a few minutes, Jorge’s blue Audi rounds the drive in front of the hotel. I grin, elated to see a friendly face, as I step outside, and Jorge appears on the other side of the car.
He rounds the front of the car in a few long strides as he makes his way over to me. His black hair is a touch longer than the normal crew cut he usually sports, but it’s not out of place with the gray suit he’s wearing. If anything, it makes it appear more stylish.
Jorge’s dark eyes roam over me before moving back up to lock on my face. “Wow, Anna. You look amazing. You’re practically glowing.”
I smile, knowing he really means the compliment because Jorge isn’t one to stray from the truth. “Thank you. You as well. I love the hair. It’s really working for you.”
He grins and his perfectly white teeth practically sparkle as he runs his fingers through the strands on the top of his head. “Thanks. It’s the longest it’s been in years. My father hates it.”
I laugh, knowing that Jorge’s father is the pastor of my family’s church and has some pretty strict rules when it comes to the appearance of his children. Jorge rebelling a bit with the hair has to be getting under his skin.
Jorge reaches down and opens the door for me. “Ready?”
I nod and slide inside the seat.
Jorge puts the transmission in drive and we set out onto the busy downtown Seattle streets, making small talk until we pull up next to a fancy looking steak house, where Jorge gives his keys to the valet. He extends an elbow to me as we head inside.
The place is posh, dressed head to toe in expensive looking curtains and table linens, and it’s clear it will cost a pretty penny to eat here.
The hostess dressed in a white button-down shirt and black vest smiles at us from behind a podium. “Welcome to Alma Maria. Name on the reservation?”
“Elizondo.” Jorge’s name rolls off his tongue with ease.
The woman nods after scanning a list of names. “Ah, yes. Here you are. Elizondo, table for two. Right this way.”
Jorge pulls out my chair when the hostess stops at a small table and lays thick, book-like menus down for us. “Enjoy.”
Jorge slides into the seat across from me and unfolds the white cloth napkin onto his lap.
Before we even have a chance to speak, a man approaches the table with a white towel draped across his forearm and is holding a bottle of wine. “Good evening. I’m Matthew. I’ll be your waiter tonight. May I start you off with a sample of our finest house wine?”
“Absolutely,” Jorge says as he slides his empty wine glass toward the edge of the table.
“And for you, miss?” the man asks and begins to tip the bottle to pour some for me, but I quickly hold my hand over the glass’s opening.
“None for me, thanks. Can I just have water instead?”
“Not a problem, miss. I’ll have that right out to you.”
He disappears, and once he’s out of earshot, I glance up at Jorge who is watching me suspiciously. “No wine? I figured now that you were away from Simon, you’d be partying it up.”
“Being able to drink and have fun isn’t the reason I ran away from home, Jorge.”
He licks his lips. “Was it being engaged to me then that freaked you out?”
“No . . . yes . . . I mean, it wasn’t you per say, but the idea of being with someone who I didn’t have a fire with scared me.”
He raises his eyebrows and sighs. “I see.”
Suddenly, I feel bad about being so open with him. It obviously hurt his feelings. I may not be in love with him, but it doesn’t mean I want to hurt him either.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
His brow furrows. “Then what exactly does it mean when you say you felt no fire with me?”
I rub my forehead. This is harder than I thought. I don’t like it when people are upset with me because it rattles me.
My goal in meeting with Jorge tonight was to be honest with him—to eliminate any hard feelings he may have against me because I know our fathers are still close.
“I apologize for how I chose to end things with you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but we both know deep down that we weren’t right for one another—that we were never really in love.”