“I’ll take your word for it,” Farrah said, not looking concerned enough for his liking. She bit into her burger, and her eyes widened. “Oh my God. This is incredible.”
“Told you. Best burgers in the city.” Some of Blake’s ire melted at the blissful look on her face. “Try the fries. They put a special house seasoning on them.”
“Mmm. Mmhmm.” Farrah stuffed her mouth full of fries and nodded.
Blake laughed. “In exchange for good food, I think it’s only fair you tell me what happened on your date tonight. It must’ve been bad for you to resort to drinking red wine.”
His best course of action was to redirect Farrah’s attention toward a topic that had nothing to do with tattoos or bartenders. If that topic happened to be a shitty date, even better.
His next best course of action would be to punch Justin in the face, but that was a backup plan in case the other man was dumb enough to flirt with Farrah again.
Farrah swallowed and wiped her mouth. “Fine. But no laughing. Promise.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
As Farrah recounted her story, Blake had to call on every shred of willpower not to burst into laughter. Jesus, her date sounded like something out of the movies.
“I can’t believe you threw a drink in his face,” he chortled.
“Neither can I, but he was such a jerk.” Farrah side-eyed him. “Why do you look so happy?”
“I’m not happy,” Blake said with a wide grin. His earlier anger toward Justin had simmered down…though he would still punch his so-called friend in the face for trying to get into Farrah’s pants if he had the chance.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying my misery.” She nudged him with her foot, and his stomach did a stupid little flip.
“Hey, it all turned out for the best. You’re not miserable now, are you?”
“No,” she said with no small amount of reluctance. “I’m not.”
Their gazes met. Blake’s heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. Her eyes never failed to mesmerize him. They held him willing captive, sucking him in until he got lost in their endless dark depths.
In that moment, he could almost imagine they were on a date. The banter, the laughter, the sizzle of awareness between them…it felt like old times.
That adage about time healing all wounds? Bullshit.
There’d been a hole in Blake’s heart since the day he and Farrah broke up, and no matter how many years passed, it remained as empty as ever.
Until now.
Farrah tried to hide it, but Blake spotted a flicker of emotion in her eyes. It wasn’t love—not the love that used to fill him with so much warmth he thought he’d never need the sun again. But it was the first crack in her icy mask since they’d reunited, and it was enough to send hope spiraling through his chest and into the space her love used to occupy.
Chapter Eleven
Six (ish) hours later
This was a Bad Idea. Capital B, capital I.
Farrah wasn’t sure how she ended up snuggled into a dark booth at one in the morning with the ex-love of her life, but she was sure it didn’t bode well for her heart.
Perhaps her ill-advised suggestion to check out a new lounge in Chelsea had something to do with the fact that she was a little drunk. Red wine, multiple vodka sodas, and a tequila shot would do that to you.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), Farrah was too intoxicated to consider the consequences of her actions.
She tapped her finger on her chin, trying to think of something good. “Never Have I Ever…Googled my own name.”
It was their third round of a game they’d played often in Shanghai. Farrah hadn’t played it since she graduated from college, but it was a nice throwback to her young, wild days.
“Bullshit. Everyone’s Googled their own name.” Blake narrowed his eyes at the smirk on Farrah’s face. “No? What kind of person are you?” He took a pull of his whiskey.
“One who has no interest in what the internet has to say about her. Tell me the truth. How many times do you Google yourself a day? Two? Three?”
He rolled his sleeves up. “What kind of person do you think I am? Five. Minimum.”
The laugh burst out of Farrah’s chest, unexpected and genuine. Blake’s chuckle joined hers not long after.
The buzz, the lighting, the music…they were doing things to her. Lowering her inhibitions, making her forget the bad memories. They still lurked in her subconscious, but they didn’t hurt as much, which was why Farrah asked the question she’d been dying to ask since she first laid eyes on Blake again.
“Are you still with her?”
She didn’t think so. She’d seen no signs of another person living in Blake’s condo, and if he and his girlfriend were still together, they wouldn’t live in different cities. Not when he had a choice of where to settle down.
But Farrah wanted to know for sure.
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend.” She finished the rest of her cranberry vodka. She was way past her drinks limit, but between Nightmare Ken and the way her insides heated around Blake, she needed extra fortification. “The one you dumped me for.”
The lingering laughter in the air faded. Blake paled. “You don’t want to talk about this.”
“I do.” Maybe it was the alcohol talking or some sort of latent emotional masochism, but Farrah wanted to know everything about this girl. Who she was, how she and Blake met, what their relationship was like. “It’s been five years. I’m over what happened between us. But I’m curious.”
Blake’s nostrils flared at the word “over.” He leaned back, away from the light, until shadows wrapped themselves around his face and the upper half of his torso. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Why’d you break up?”
The silence stretched for so long Farrah thought he didn’t hear her. Then he answered, “We couldn’t make it work.”
“Congratulations. You just gave the vaguest answer possible.”
Blake leaned forward again, his eyes hard, his jaw set. He looked almost angry, and she had no clue why. “Why are we talking about this, Farrah? Right here, right now?”
What remained of their carefree conversation hardened into something tense and dangerous. Farrah swallowed hard, her skin tingling from the change.
“Because it’s the elephant in the room, and an elephant isn’t part of my design plan.” Her lame attempt at a joke landed with a thud. She lifted her chin. “Look, we have a history together, but it’s just that: history. What happened between us happened a long time ago, and I don’t want it hanging over every meeting and conversation we have. So, let’s clear the air once and for all.”
“You think me telling you what happened with my ex will clear the air.” It wasn’t a question.
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. You did dump me for her. You can’t blame me for being curious.”
“Stop using that word,” Blake snapped.
“What word? Dumped?” Farrah’s eyebrows rose. “That’s what happened, isn’t it?”
Except it wasn’t. “Dumped” was too colloquial, too common. It didn’t adequately describe the pain Farrah felt the night Blake told her he’d gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend, and that he just wasn’t that into her anymore. Sorry, thank you, goodbye.