The Hearts We Break (The Alphaletes Book 3), page 10
He smiles wide and ducks his head in a move that instantly reminds me of Scar before he looks up at me.
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
My mouth drops, and my eyebrows raise. Ezra is not the type to ‘see someone’. Much like me, especially in high school, he liked to keep his options open. As far as I know, he’s kept it that way ever since then too.
“No shit? That’s awesome, man. What’s her name?”
His face flushes as he messes with the peeling label on his beer bottle as he speaks.
“Uh, his name is Alex.”
I can tell by the way he is avoiding eye contact that he’s worried about revealing that piece of information to me. Like maybe he thinks I’ll judge him or something. Fuck that shit, though. Who the hell am I to tell him who he can and can’t be into? If he’s happy, that’s more than good enough for me.
“I’m so happy for you, bro. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Ezra’s eyes whip up to me quickly, confusion and concern heavy across his face. Like maybe he thinks I’m fucking with him. He watches me carefully for several seconds before his shoulders seem to relax and he nods.
“Yeah, he’s been asking to come over for Wednesday night dinner. I just don’t know if I’m ready to take that step yet, you know?”
I nod. “I can understand that. But if you’re concerned about what everyone is going to say, don’t be. As long as he treats you right, that’s all that matters.”
“I still like women,” he says, almost like he is trying to reassure me, or maybe he’s trying to reassure himself. “I just like…him too.”
Smiling at one of my oldest and best friends, I nod.
“That’s fucking awesome, bro. I’m happy for you.”
Ezra finally lets go of the residual tension he seemed to be holding as he nods and smiles too.
“What about you? How have you been holding up since Nikki?”
I pause on that for a moment because I don’t really know how to answer it. Fine, I guess? No, maybe not fine. If I was fine, wouldn’t I have signed the papers already? I’m not, not fine, though. I’m…
“Hanging in there,” I say simply as I take another sip of my drink.
He nods sympathetically and pats my back.
“I’m sorry, bro. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. She was a shallow bitch,” he says with a shake of his head before he looks at me sheepishly. “No offense.”
I wave him off. Before if anyone would have spoken that way about Nik, I would have rolled on their ass, now? I can’t help but feel like an idiot for not seeing what everyone else clearly did. Rose-colored glasses and all that, I guess.
“Scar is on a date,” I say, not quite sure where it came from.
Ezra raises an eyebrow. “Really? With who?”
My lip curls at the reminder of the douche.
“Damion Andrews.”
“No way? That dude is a beast. Fuck, good for her,” he laughs as he drains his beer and sets it to the side.
My brows furrow at his casualness.
“That’s all you have to say?”
He turns his head to the side with a soft chuckle and shrugs.
“What do you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know. Where is the whole big brother act that I’ve seen you put on a million times before?”
Ezra shrugs as he orders another beer.
“She’s a grown woman with a good head on her shoulders. She doesn’t need me interfering in her personal life.”
I just stare at him because I really don’t understand. How is this the same guy that warned me and damn near every other guy within a five-mile radius away from his baby sister? He was a protective motherfucker always, and while I liked having extra eyes always looking out for Scar, I can think of one time in particular he wouldn’t have acted a tenth as calm as he is now.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What about when you got all growly with me before I left for college? Where is that guy when I tell him that his sister is out on a date with a douchebag?”
He shakes his head as he takes a sip of his new beer.
“That wasn’t because I didn’t think you’d treat her right, Slate. That was because I knew if you two crossed that line there would be no coming back for her. I was worried about my baby sister starting something with her best friend, who was moving over ten hours away.”
I mull over his words for several seconds, not quite processing them right. At least, I don’t think I am. Is he seriously saying that he wouldn’t have had a problem with Scar and me back then? Because that is sure as shit not the impression I got. Then again, his reasoning makes sense. He knows me, better than most. He knows Scarlett is the last person I would ever hurt. That since the day I’ve met her, I have been ready to do anything and everything to protect her. That I always would.
“You know,” he continues, clearly oblivious to my inner thoughts. “When you came back to Seattle, me and Aaron had a bet of how long it would take you to go after Scar. When you brought Nikki home and introduced her as your girlfriend, we were both shocked. But you two seemed happy, and Scar started dating that geeky dude so it’s not like we were going to say anything,” he laughs lightly.
I can’t find it in me to laugh, though. What the fuck?
“Wait. What? You guys had a bet? On if Scar and I started dating?”
“It wasn’t if, it was when,” Ezra points out with a smile and a shake of his head.
“So, you guys wanted us to get together?” I ask slowly, still not quite sure what the fuck is going on right now.
“I mean, we both just thought it was inevitable, you know?”
Inevitable.
Huh.
We catch up for another hour or so, talking about work, football, and Alex. I try to stay present and focused on my friend, but I feel my mind drifting to other places. Places like an alternate present where I would have kissed Scar that night by the fire. Or if I would have gone after her instead of Nikki. Where would we be now? Would we be together? Married? Kids?
Or would all of my worst fears have come true? That we would have given us a shot, done the whole nine yards, only to have it not work out. Then I’d be worse off than I am even now. I lost my wife. I thought I was going to lose my career, but I never once thought I would lose Scar. Playing the what-if game will only drive me crazy. Everything happened for a reason, whatever that reason is, and Scar and I just were not meant to be. Not like that.
Right?
Scarlett
I was excited for tonight. I genuinely was. It was the first date that I had been out on in over four years, by choice but still. I like Damion, he’s a nice guy. I’ve been working with him for a while now on his shoulder, and in that time, he has used every opportunity to get to know me better and flirt, heavily.
I thought his persistence was sweet, that it showed he was really interested in me. Now, I think I’ve figured out that’s just part of his personality.
He picked me up in his McLaren, and though it’s a very nice car, I probably didn’t need a breakdown of every aftermarket add-on he had put on this thing, or how much each add-on cost. I’m sure he is probably trying to impress me with how much money he makes, most girls probably would be. But I’m Slater Santos’ best friend. I’ve seen his bank account balance. He is one of the top paid running backs in the league, and Damion is only into his second season with the Crusaders. Their net worth is definitely not the same.
We pull up to Canilise, one of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in the state. I know because when Slater got his signing bonus with the Crusaders, he took the whole family out to dinner here. With eight people, the bill was north of $3,000, and even though it was good, the portion size was laughable. We all agreed never to come back for that reason. In Damion’s defense though, maybe he’s just never been.
“This is my favorite restaurant in the city. You’re gonna love it,” Damion winks as he steps out of the car for the valet.
Or maybe he has been here before.
When I step out of the passenger seat, I look to see Damion is already walking through the front doors of the restaurant. I don’t know why that irks me. Maybe because I grew up as the only girl in a house full of men, especially after my mom passed away, I have come to almost expect men to open my door, or at the very least, hang back while I get out. Then again, it’s not really a man versus woman thing. I can honestly say Erica or Vi have never walked off without me when we have gone out to lunch.
Shaking it off, I smile at the man holding the front door open for me as I find Damion waiting at the hostess table for me. He smiles widely before slipping his hand behind my back.
“Our table is ready. I reserved something private, so we won’t get swarmed with people.”
Okay, maybe I’m just being irritable but a small part of me wants to remind him that he isn’t Trevor Michaels, or Slater Santos, or even Sebastian Caldwell. He may be good, but he’s not a household name, at least yet. I keep it to myself though because I don’t think emasculating a man is the best start to a first date.
Damion surprisingly pulls out my chair for me when we get to the table that is tucked away from the main dining area, while still maintaining the waterfront view. I thank him as I take my seat and open up the smooth leather menus placed on the table.
“Good evening, Mr. Andrews. Can I start either of you off with something to drink?” our waitress asks.
“Water is good with me, thank you,” I smile.
Damion gives me a disbelieving side eye before he shakes his head and smiles.
“We will take a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild, and I’ll also have a glass of Highland Park. Thanks, Sweetheart,” he says with a wink that has our young waitress blushing viciously before scurrying off, his eyes tracking her every step before she turns around a corner. Finally, he seems to be able to peel his gaze off her ass before he looks at me with a carefree smile.
Did that really just happen?
Doing my best to remain polite, I keep my mouth shut and focus on the menu. I didn’t have time to eat lunch today, and I am starving. The sirloin and baked potato are practically calling my name.
“So, you are from Illinois, right?” I ask.
Damion nods. “Yeah, can’t tell you how happy I am to be out of all those farmlands.”
“Don’t like rural?” I laugh.
He rolls his eyes and chuckles hollowly as he shakes his head.
“Definitely not.”
I nod at that as an awkward silence falls over us. I guess when he isn’t talking about himself and I’m not talking about work or his therapy, there isn’t much to say.
Thankfully, our waitress comes over to break the tension, filling up both of our wine glasses before she sets down his scotch and my water. Fun fact: I hate wine. It makes me sick every time I drink it. Not that Damion knew that when he ordered it. It’s not fair to hold that against him, right?
“Have you two had a chance to take a look at our menu? Would you like to hear our chef’s special for the night?” the waitress asks.
Damion holds up a dismissive hand to her as he speaks.
“I’ll take the filet mignon, medium rare with steamed vegetables and a baked potato. She will have the garden salad with grilled chicken, dressing on the side.”
A laugh bubbles out of me at that but when Damion turns to me curiously like he isn’t sure what is so funny, my smile drops.
“You’re joking, right?”
“What?” he asks.
“You did not just order for me. No, wait. You did not just order yourself a large decadent meal while ordering me a salad that for all intents and purposes displays that I am trying to watch my weight, right? You couldn’t possibly be that sexist or ignorant. I have a vagina between my legs, it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a steak and a potato.”
Damion’s face flushes as if he were embarrassed before glancing to the waitress apologetically.
“Lower your voice, you’re making a scene.”
Ha! Lower my voice? He clearly wants a docile perfect little trophy piece, and though I am polite, I won’t be pushed around by a guy I barely know. So it’s probably best to end while we are ahead. Or more accurately, before we fall anymore behind with this train wreck of a date.
Silently, I grab my purse at my feet and stand before making my way through the dining area and out into the valet area. I’m just finishing ordering myself a ride home when a hand cups my elbow and spins me around to face a furious looking Damion.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he snaps.
“Me?” I laugh. “What about you? Do you actually think any of your behavior tonight has been remotely acceptable for a date?”
“What are you even talking about?
“Exactly,” I say with a shake of my head. “You don’t even see it. You will, though. One day.”
Damion huffs an irritated breath as he shakes his head at me.
“Scarlett, can we please wrap up whatever this is and get back to our table?”
As if the lord himself was looking down on me, my ride conveniently pulls up, rolling down the passenger side window as he speaks through it.
“Are you Scarlett?”
“Yes,” I say gratefully as I take a step away from the big dumb idiot to my right.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Home,” I say dryly. “Let me make it clear for you, Damion. The date is over. Spoiler alert: It didn’t go well. Bonus material: There will not be a second.”
Without another word, I open the car door and slide into the backseat.
“Jesus,” I huff as the driver turns to face me.
“Was that Damion Andrews?”
Turning my eyes to face him I just shake my head as I look out the window.
“Just drive, please.”
The guy nods and thankfully, puts the car into drive. It doesn’t take long to get to my house. I slip out of the car and quietly make my way through the lobby and up to my apartment. I’ve got to say I’m moving with a lot less pep in my step than when I left here not an hour ago. Looks like I had it right the first time when I had my whole hiatus from dating. If that is what’s out there, then I’m better off single.
After I unlock my door, I flick on the light before kicking off my heels and dropping my purse onto my entryway table.
“How was your date?” a voice asks from my couch.
I startle for a moment before looking to see that it’s just Slater. He is perched on the edge of my couch, his elbows resting on top of his knees as his head is turned to face me.
“Holy shit, you scared me. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” I say as I slowly walk towards him.
He doesn’t answer, instead his eyes flick over my dress before coming back to my face.
“You look beautiful.”
I smooth my hair out, not used to it being down for once before I drop my hands against the black satin of my dress and give him a tired smile.
“Thanks.”
Slater stares at me for several seconds before he speaks again.
“Well? Did you have a good time?”
I let out a dry laugh as I shake my head and drop down onto the couch and place my legs into his lap. Slater leans back to accept them before he begins massaging the balls of my feet.
“What happened?” Slater asks curiously as his fingers begin easing the relief of those stupid tall high heels.
I run my hands through my hair and toss it behind me as I rest my head onto the armrest of the couch.
“What didn’t? He talked about himself the entire way, not so subtly bragging about how much his car was worth. When we got to the restaurant he didn’t get my door, didn’t even wait for me before he was walking inside the restaurant. I ordered a water, he corrected me and ordered wine-”
“Wine makes you sick,” Slater says with a scrunched face.
“Mhmm,” I agree as I continue. “He flirted with the waitress right in front of me, and the cherry on top? He ordered for me, a grilled chicken garden salad, dressing on the side,” I say with a laugh.
Slater’s mouth is open, his face stunned before it spreads to a smile. A small chuckle slips out before another and another until he is practically rolling laughing. I scoff and grab a throw pillow from behind me, throwing it at his stupid handsome head.
“It’s not funny! It was awful! He even followed me out of the restaurant and didn’t understand why I was mad or leaving. You could have warned me that he was dumber than a box of rocks,” I scoff.
Slater throws his hands up in defense as he tries to control his laughter.
“Hey, I don’t know the guy very well off the field, but I told you to be careful.”
I roll my eyes as I reach for the remote, flicking on the tv and find myself more than pleased to find a One Tree Hill rerun on. I grab the pillow I threw at Slater and set it in his lap before resting my head on it and facing the TV.
“Whatever, I just hope he doesn’t say anything to anyone now that things ended badly. I definitely don’t want to lose my job because of that man child.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Slater says before he bends down and presses a quick kiss to the side of my head. “If he opens his mouth to anyone, I’ll shut him up. But if it went as bad as you say, I doubt his ego would let him tell anyone about tonight.”
“Here’s hoping,” I laugh as the intro music winds down and the episode begins.
Slater props his legs onto the coffee table and settles back into a more comfortable position as we quietly watch our favorite show. I’m not sure when I closed my eyes, but I feel a slight shift underneath me before Slater’s hushed voice sounds over the TV.
“Hey, Scar?”
“Hmm?” I hum, choosing to keep my eyes closed.
“Do you ever think about that night? Before I left for Brighton?”
He doesn’t have to specify past that. I know exactly the night he’s talking about, in detail, but I’m too tired to say any of that, so I settle for a simple, “Mhmm.”
A short pause comes from Slater as I begin to drift back to sleep. I feel a soft kiss press against the side of my head and whispered words so quiet I almost miss them.
