Then back at Ethan.
“No.”
And for the first time all evening, I smiled without forcing it.
“Coming here did.”
Ethan stared at me.
There was nothing left for him to strike at.
I wasn’t begging for him back.
I wasn’t jealous of Chloe.
I wasn’t collapsing.
Most importantly, I was no longer protecting the story that made him comfortable.
He sat down again because leaving would have looked worse.
For the remainder of dinner, nobody asked me to smile.
When the check arrived, Lorenzo stood.
My mother immediately said, “Scarlet, perhaps you should call tomorrow.
Once everyone has calmed down.”
I picked up my coat.
“No, Mom.
You can call me when you’re ready to talk about what actually happened instead of how it looked.”
Her lips parted.
No answer came.
Outside, the Seattle rain had become a fine mist.
Tobias waited near the curb beside a dark car.
Lorenzo and I walked beneath the restaurant awning.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Then I exhaled so hard I almost laughed.
“That went badly.”
Lorenzo looked toward the restaurant windows.
“I disagree.”
“My sister cried.
My mother may never speak to me again.
My ex nearly started an argument with you over tiramisu.”
“And you told the truth.”
I looked at him.
“That was the agreement, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“The agreement was that you would pretend to date me.”
“No.
That was your request.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“There’s a difference?”
“A significant one.”
Tobias opened the rear car door but discreetly looked away.
I folded my arms.
“What did you think you agreed to?”
Lorenzo stepped closer, not enough to crowd me, just enough that I had to raise my chin to hold his gaze.
“To attend dinner with you.”
“That sounds suspiciously technical.”
“I prefer accuracy.”
“So when I told Ethan I was with the head of the mafia—”
“You were being dramatic.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
“My mother would be delighted to hear you say that.”
His expression softened.
“But the other part?” I asked.
“What other part?”
“That I was with you.”
Rain ticked softly against the awning.
