Page 102

I’d been working through what to say since the flight home from Catalina Cove. I ran through hypothetical conversations, trying to anticipate his reaction. I couldn’t come up with any combination of words that felt right.

But that was the gag. There wasn’t a right version. There was just the truth and what it would cost me.

I made sure that I looked good though, because if I was confessing, I was going down with the ship looking like a bad bitch. I threw on a black Herve Leger mini, my Louboutins, and applied my good waterproof mascara in case I cried when he told me he hated me.

Because I’d hate me too if I were him.

He’d texted that a car would be outside at eight. At 7:50 I sprayed my perfume, grabbed the Chanel bag he’d gifted me, and went downstairs.

The second red flag was that he wasn’t waiting for me.

We always rode together. I frowned at the driver as he held the door open.

So…he was meeting me there. That’s all this was.

My stomach was in knots as we pulled up to the restaurant and I saw Cardez waiting out front.

He looked good in his black silk shirt and slacks. I hadn’t seen him in almost a week and didn’t realize how much I missed him until right then.

But something wasn’t right.

He looked too serious. Cardez was always serious, but it was almost like he was looking at a stranger when he saw me.

“You look beautiful,” he said, helping me out of the truck. I leaned in to kiss him and he kissed my temple instead. I swallowed back my hurt and let him lead me inside.

The restaurant was empty except for one table in the middle of the dining room. I’d call it extra, but this was the same nigga who flew me to Baltimore for our first date.

The table was set beautifully for two, with an ornate candelabra in the center and two glasses of wine already poured.

“You missed me that much?” I joked as I picked up the glass in front of me.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I did.”

Our server brought out a bread basket and hors d'oeuvres, but I was too busy trying to figure out when I was going to confess. Before the second course? During dessert?

“How was your trip?” he asked.

“It was nice to get out the city. Reminded me a little bit of Nassau.”

He snorted and buttered a bread roll.

I took a nervous sip of wine. “How’s Orlando? Is the physical therapy helping?”

“I’m sure he’d be further along if he followed the PT’s instructions, but he just grumbles about it mostly.”

This was the kind of normal conversation we’d had hundreds of times.

Except he wasn’t really present. He was engaged but there was no feeling behind anything he said.

By the time the plates were cleared, I’d lost my appetite entirely. My palms were sweaty and I’d been rehearsing the same three sentences in my head for twenty minutes. I excused myself to go to the restroom and stood in front of the mirror gripping the sink.

I wasn’t even this nervous dealing with Gideon.

“I need to tell you something,” I said when I sat back down.

“Belle—”

“No.” I shook my head. “Let me just get it out before I lose my fucking nerve. I should’ve told you this before I left and⁠—”