I raised my hand to touch his chin. I couldn’t help myself. Not having his eyes on me was fucking gutting me.
Ryan shoved my hand away and took a step back. He did finally look at me, but the ice in his eyes had me wishing he hadn’t. “What’s wrong is you thinking there’s a chance for us at all. We had a one-time fling when we were kids. That’s it. I’ve moved on and now you need to as well.”
My voice was hot as my temper rose. “A fling? You’re seriously going to reduce what we shared to that?”
He winced but smoothed it away. Fuck, I hated that. Hated that I’d been the one to teach him to mask his true emotions. I didn’t want him to fake it until he made it. Not with me. “Even if there was more, it doesn’t matter now. People break up all the time. Just because we were once…something…it doesn’t mean we’re anything now.”
The door behind us opened and a large group spilled out, their chatter sweeping over us. Ryan tensed before giving me the same professional smile he’d bestowed on Taff. “Lunch?”
I just nodded, stepping aside to let him pass as I willed my anger away. When we got to the door, I reached out to open it for him.
Ryan rolled his eyes as he stepped through. “More than capable of opening it myself, Dom.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t, Shadow.”
“You need to stop calling me that,” he said after we’d been seated and handed menus. “It’s not appropriate.”
“Because we’ve always been appropriate.”
Ryan’s fingers tightened on the menu. “We are now. Things are different. We’re different.”
“We are. I did exactly what you asked of me.”
That caught his attention. The weight of his gaze on me as he lowered the menu was heady. “What are you talking about?”
“You told me to grow up,” I said succinctly. “So I did.”
He blinked. “I said that?”
“Yes. Right before you broke my heart.”
Ryan’s lips parted. For a long moment we stared at each other. I didn’t try to hide anything. I let him see it all. The pain. The longing. The regret.
Our waiter appeared, notepad open and ready. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I get you to drink?”
I ordered a beer, trying not to react when Ryan did the same. But after the waiter left, I couldn’t stop myself. “Taff said they have an excellent wine list here.”
“I don’t drink wine anymore.” Ryan was studying the menu again like it contained the world’s most fascinating literature. “At a normal business lunch, I wouldn’t have alcohol at all.”
I grinned. “I’m glad you’re able to relax around me.”
“Hardly.” He shot me a withering look that only had my grin growing. “More like I need alcohol to survive this conversation.”
His barb didn’t hurt. If anything, it gave me hope. My biggest fear had been that Ryan genuinely wouldn’t care about the past. That he’d reminisce about what we’d shared with an indulgent smile before asking me how the last decade had treated me.
But that wasn’t what had happened. Ryan couldn’t talk about what we’d been up to because it was too much of a reminder of how much we’d missed out on. There was no reminiscing because it was too steeped in pain, just as it was for me. He hadn’t let it go any more than I had. Ryan’s anger gave me one thing.
Hope.
It was all I needed to keep going.
“I don’t remember telling you to grow up,” Ryan said finally.
“I do.” I sat back in my chair and folded my hands on the table. “I remember every word.”
Ryan stared down at my clasped hands. “I thought I did too.”
I nudged his foot under the table. “It’s okay that youdon’t. I wish you didn’t remember any of it. Hell, I wish it’d never happened.”