“Did you notice the second entrance outside? That’ll be for the nightclub downstairs. But there’s also access via the restaurant, if you want to have dinner here before heading down.”

“Oh, I love that!” I exclaim, clapping my hands together. “Old ladies like me hate driving from spot to spot. I love the idea of one place for dinner, downstairs for dancing, and then back home.”

He chuckles. “That’s the plan.” Not bothering to respond to my old lady comment, he guides me out of the restaurant. “Ready for dinner?”

I roll my eyes. How presumptuous of him. I check my phone, and there are no missed calls. I click on e-mails next. Nothing but clothing flash sales on my personal account and correspondence from the lawyers on my work e-mail. If I were in a movie, I would hear from Slade right now. I hate him for what he did to me, but I hate him more for not calling me to explain. I need to move on, but instead, I’m stuck in this painful in-between. I still love him, and I despise myself for it. How can I love a man who treated me the way he did? I’m no better than the women from the Center. I’m sure Eve could give me some sort of closure, but I refuse to take it from anyone other than the offender. He shouldn’t have a get out of jail pass. If there’s something he wants me to know, he’s going to have to tell me himself.

“Sushi work for you? I know a place …” He smiles.

Swallowing hard, I tell Alexander, “Okay.”

Dinner is easy and fun. He makes me smile and laugh. He tells me about his crazy family in New York City and even mentions Mafia connections. It’s all said in jest, but something tells me there’s truth within his jokes. All in all, Alexander is the perfect gentleman. After we eat, he drives me back to my car.

“Next week?” he asks, holding my car door open for me.

I sit inside the leather driver’s seat and twist my hands together. Could I? Should I?

He interrupts my thoughts and says, “Don’t answer yet. I’ll call you.”

He is being patient, and it warms my heart.

Gratitude moves into my chest, but I simply nod. He shuts the car door, and I buckle up, turning on the ignition. Alexander is a great guy, and I’m doing nothing wrong. And yet, guilt sits heavily in my chest. Of course, it’s Slade. I miss him. Yes, Alexander is wonderful. But, no, he doesn’t give me that same excitement for life as Slade did. He doesn’t move me.

I pull out of the parking lot and grip the steering wheel, frustrated at myself for comparing.

After washing my face and slathering my skin with an anti-wrinkle serum, I put on a comfortable pair of plaid pajamas and turn on my laptop. Sitting upright on my bed, I skim through my e-mails. The name I see sitting in my inbox has my heart skidding to a stop. With a shaking hand, I click.