‘My, my, if it isn’t Annie Langley,’ he drawled, that accent so familiar it panged in her belly. If he was surprised to see her, there was no evidence of it on his handsome symmetrical features. ‘And here I thought I was rid of you for ever.’
It was like a knife being plunged into her heart anew. Their breakup had been…awful. Actually, that word was completelyinsufficient, but in the moment, Annie couldn’t think of an alternative. The bleakest and most necessary decision of her life had led to an argument that still shook her insides if she thought of it.
‘Nice to see you, too, Theo,’ she managed to croak, her voice barely audible above the fashionable electronic music pulsing through the bar.
‘I did not say it was nice,’ he corrected, eyes on hers, probing her, so she squared her shoulders, refusing to let him see that she was intimidated or afraid.
‘True. Do you have a minute?’
His lips flattened and for a moment, she thought he was going to say no. She hadn’t let herself imagine that possibility, even when she’d known it was there. She hadn’t wanted to contemplate what she’d do if he turned her away without giving her a chance to present her case to him.
‘I’m meeting someone,’ he said, glancing at his gold wristwatch.
‘Okay, well, until they get here,’ Annie said, desperately, and because she really couldn’t take no for an answer, she slid into the booth opposite, immediately regretting it when their knees brushed beneath the table, and her pulse went into dangerous territory. Suddenly, she was twenty-one again, the young woman who’d loved and wanted with every fibre of her awakening body, and never had the chance to have.
His lips quirked in something like a mocking half smile, as he lifted a hand and immediately drew the attention of a waitress in a silky white blouse and fitted black pants.
‘I’ll have another.’ He nodded towards his scotch. ‘And something for the lady.’ Even the way he said ‘lady’ was inflected with the kind of disdain that made her heart hurt.
‘Of course, sir. What would you like, ma’am?’
Annie was about to refuse, but suddenly, the offer of some Dutch courage was infinitely tempting. ‘Um, a white wine, please.’
‘A sav?’
‘Sure.’ She nodded quickly, frankly not caring.
Theo said the name of a wine bottle, and the waitress beamed a megawatt smile his way. ‘Oh, excellent choice.’
Annie resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. She needed Theo’s help and she sure as heck wasn’t going to get it by antagonising him. Out of nervous habit, she pulled her long, silky dark hair over one shoulder, the curls she’d carefully wrapped into it bouncing against her pale skin as she then toyed with her fingers in her lap, oblivious to the way his eyes were resting on her face, making their own inventory of changes.
‘So, Annie,’ he prompted, his voice a dry drawl. ‘Is it a coincidence that you are here?’
‘No,’ she said. She had no intention of lying to him. ‘I’ve been trying to contact you. Have you been getting my messages?’
Another twist of those lips that had once driven her wild with pleasure and promises. ‘Yes, I’ve gotten them.’
Her heart trembled and the betrayal of that admission thudded against the walls of her gut. ‘Oh, right.’
‘You might remember, I asked you never to contact me again?’
‘I remember,’ she whispered, then cleared her throat. ‘But I also remember you saying you’d always be there for me.’
For the briefest, tiniest moment, she thought his eyes showed something. A softening. Interest, remorse, concern? But it was gone so quickly, she realised she was layering her own wishful thinking over his expressions.
‘That was a long time ago.’
‘Not so long,’ she said, as the waitress returned with a tray and two drinks. She cleared Theo’s glass before replacing it, then slidAnnie’s wine to her. Annie wrapped her fingers around the stem gratefully, without lifting it to her lips.
‘A lifetime.’
‘Six years. Not even.’
He arched a single brow. ‘Did you come here to discuss the past?’
Her lips parted on a quick sigh. ‘No,’ she said, dropping her gaze. There was no point. They’d said everything there was to say. She’d dumped him because her parents had insisted on it. He’d been angry at her reasoning, had fought for her to try to make it work, had fought for their relationship, and she’d shut him down. Again and again. It had not been an amicable split.
She took a quick sip of her drink, barely noticing the world-class wine as it spread across her palate.