Chapter 29

The host seats me just twenty minutes shy of the reservation put in place for Blake and Phil's dinner. Of course it's a table in the private, side room of the restaurant, a room where only the cream of the crop are allowed to eat. Everything is pristine, and the waiter offers me a complimentary glass of when as I pull my chair up to the table. Free liquor? Hell yes.

A second glass in which Blake or Phil will have to pay?

Bring it on.

My foot bounces up and down, eager to see the look on both Phil and Blake's faces when they see me sitting at their table. After securing the reservation with the concierge of the hotel, it was easy enough to call the restaurant to request that an additional chair be added to 'Mr. Benson's reservation.'

Neither of them has a clue.

Really though, what's the issue?

Blake dropped me off at the hotel earlier as a favor, or so he claimed. He could see how tired I was getting and wanted me to get some rest before allowing me to do as I pleased with my evening. Besides, Blake never specifically said he didn't want me around for those later appointments.

So here I am – rested and prepared as fuck to 'enjoy my evening.'

In just under five minutes, both of my wine glasses find themselves empty and in need of a refill. I glance around the sparse tables in this private room. Most of them are empty except for an older couple seated near the back. Both of them look bored, neither caring that every bite of food they slip past their crusty lips costs more than a new TV.

The waiter visits my table again, this time offering me a piece of bread.

"I'll pass on the bread," I say. "But I'll take another refill. On each."

He blinks and studies my overactive foot tapping. A curious grin tugs on the edges of his lips, but he simply gives a nod of consent before walking away. Dude must think I'm a lush. Or a Wine-O, at the very least. Truth be told, I've always hated the taste of wine. Jared used to tell me that once you got used to the flavor, the beauty of wine is endless.

I lick my lips, the remnants of the bitter liquid festering in my mouth and reminding me of the smell of week-old garbage. But hey. It's expensive as hell and racking up the bill for Blake's dinner tab. In other words, it's bittersweet garbage.

A familiar voice catches my attention, and all thoughts of wine disperse for the main attraction of this evening. My heart thrums against my chest and I stand, turning to greet the other two members of this dinner party.

But it's just Blake.

His glances around the room, his gaze ending with me. Just having his eyes clashing against mine turn my insides to liquid. Half of me wants to greet him with open arms, begging him to take me back to the hotel and pick up where we left off this morning. The other half wants to clock him square in the jaw.

I can't help but notice that my boss did in fact take the time to change his outfit. His earlier suit has been exchanged for an all gray one – gray slacks, gray pants, a light gray undershirt shirt, and a dark gray tie. He looks 'fuck me' good.

Yea, never said that before. I heard Jared say it a few times, and I never wasted the opportunity to chide him for it. This time though, it kind of fits.

Blake adjusts the cufflink on his left wrist and breaks our gaze to study the multiple glasses of wine in front of me.

"I see you've been waiting on me for awhile?"

"A bit."

"Mmmm. Well, I must say I'm quite impressed at your sudden change in punctuality."

My blush deepens. I have conveniently put myself in the middle, forcing Blake and Phil to sit across from one another...whenever Phil shows up, anyway. Blake takes the seat to my left and pulls up to the table with a slow grin.

The waiter waits until Blake settles in before rejoining our table. He sets my double refill of wine in front of me, sweeping away the empty glasses with a finessed touch. Blake raises a brow.

"Thirsty?"

My spine straightens, and I glare back at him. "Parched."

The waiter clears his throat, offering up both Blake and I a black menu. He prattles off the specials and nods when he's finished.

"I'll give you both a minute to look over the menu. Can I offer you anything to drink, sir?"

Blake shakes his head and waves him away, muttering something about how this table already has enough wine glasses. If we weren't at such a fine dining establishment, I'd probably be delving out a swift shin kick at his snarky – but totally valid – comment.

I pick up my glass of wine, downing it almost as quickly as the one before it. I can feel Blake's eyes on me. He doesn't seem puzzled that I'm here. Then again, not much fazes the guy. He knows how to keep a cool head and a professional attitude whenever the situation calls for it. It's annoying as hell.

Instead of using my napkin, I wipe any remnants of wine away from my lips using the back of my hand.

"So where is he?" I ask, trying to hide the anger in my voice.

"Where is who?"

"The guy you're supposed to be having dinner with."

Blake leans back in his chair. He flattens out his tie against his stomach, and the gesture reminds me of our morning together. I know exactly what that stomach of his looks like beneath those clothing. It's lean, firm and –

Focus. Stay focused, Callum.

I grab for my wine again.

"He's here," Blake says.

My grip on the glass tightens and I glare at the deep red liquid sloshing back and forth. Of course he's here. He's probably checking his coat or taking a piss as we speak.

"He's sitting right next to me," Blake adds.

Wait. What?

Blake fidgets with his cufflink and a small blush blooms in his cheeks. He purses his lips, debating on the right words to say to me. Then he folds his hands together and rests them on the table.

"I have a confession," he says quietly. "And before you get more upset than you already are, I want to apologize for not just telling you on the phone earlier."

The words catch me off-guard with unwanted uncertainty. So this is it. He really was planning a date with Phil. Did the hotel inform him last minute that I'd be here? And then he canceled with Phil because he knew I'd be here?

My pulse speeds up slows down at the same time. Maybe he's here to tell me he wants Phil instead. Maybe they're getting back together. Just thinking the words makes a knotted ball form in the pit of my stomach. This – this right here is exactly why I don't do relationships. It's why I don't do feelings. It's why I don't -

"I was the one who sent the note to the hotel," Blake whispers. "Not Phil."

I freeze. My eyes flicker to him in disbelief.

Blake reaches over for my spare glass of wine and nods at it. "May I?"

I give him a stiff nod in return. He brings the edge of the glass to his lips, taking a large sip before setting it back on the table. His adam's apple bobs up and down with sheer masculinity.

"I knew, and still know, that you need time to sort things out, Callum. I know you need time to choose. But after our morning together...the thought of you flitting off to have an evening with Cade didn't bode well with me."

All the puzzle pieces begin to settle into place. It seemed odd that Phil would leave a message at the hotel, especially since I knew they have could have just as easily texted each other. Yet it still seemed plausible. Perhaps Phil was just trying to be romantic. Or maybe Phil knew I would be the one to read it and wanted to piss me off.

But all along....it was Blake?

My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I acted like such a fuckin' idiot earlier. When I was on the phone with Blake at the hotel, he must have heard how upset I was. And yet he played the fool. He acted like he was clueless, when really? He sat there listening to me in pain and knew he was the root cause of it.

"Why?" I ask him. "Why the fuck would you do something like that? What – couldn't you have just asked me on a date like a normal fuckin' human being?"

Blake grimaces and picks up his wine again for a second sip. Guilt lines his features.

"If I had asked you on a date and you had turned me down for him, I just....the thought of it was driving me crazy. But I figured if you knew I might be out with my ex, maybe you'd make the choice for yourself to turn down plans with Cade to be with me. I didn't want to guilt you into a dinner, Callum. I wanted you to want it for yourself."

I blink back at him. His words are sincere, and his voice is tinged with enough guilt and regret to sink a ship. His blush deepens the longer I scowl at him and he fidgets with his cufflink again.

"I know," he continues. "I'm a jealous prick. I know I am. I never used to be, but now I am. And damnit, Callum I am sorry. I really am. Hearing how hurt you were on the phone made me feel like the smallest man on earth."

I feel angry. Stupid. Played.

But above it all?

I feel relieved. I feel wanted.

Only minutes ago I was clutching onto the fear that Blake was planning on leaving me for Phil. Yet all along the purpose of tonight was simply to get me to go on another date with my very clever and very over-the-top boss.

Granted, he's still a fucking idiot. But he's kind of a sweet one.

My shoulders relax, and I pick up my glass of wine. I nod for Blake to do the same. He follows suit with hesitant fingers, holding his breath to wait to hear what I have to say.

"To us," I say, lightly tapping my glass against his.

A wave of astonishment passes over Blake's face and he readily accepts that for a toast. "To us indeed."

A comfortable silence settles over us until the waiter returns for our order. Blake sends him away once again, instructing for him to please not return until we wave him over. The waiter looks between the two of us and backs away from our table without question... though I'm sure a million and one questions are pummeling through his mind.

Ha. If he only knew.

"And I want you to know that I still realize you need to spend time with Cade. It's only natural that –"

I lift my hand to stop him. "I'll stop you right there. I won't be spending any time with Cade."

Blake blinks back at me, his posture stiff. "What?"

Whether it's the wine, Blake's confession, or observing the boring old couple near the back, I realize I've waited too long to say the words that I knew to be true months ago.

"You're a fuckin' idiot," I say with a breathy laugh. "But Cade...he isn't you. So I don't want him."

Blake stares at me, and beneath his dark eyes is a look and an emotion I didn't realize I had been missing – or wanting – all of these years.

"What are you saying, Callum?"

I shrug and my pulse quickens admitting my own confession. "It was you all along. I choose you, Blake. Just you."