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All Good Things(84)

By:Alannah Carbonneau


"Oh," I breathed. Excitement I knew I shouldn't feel bloomed in my chest.

The waiter returned with our wine. He poured two glasses. "Do you need more time with the menu?"

"No." I answered quickly. "I'm ready." I looked to Jace and his eyes glimmered with amusement. He nodded his head toward the waiter and I blushed. "I would like two orders of the three cheese Alfredo pasta. I would like one to stay and one to go. Thank you."

The waiter raised a brow, but did not ask why I had oddly ordered two servings of the pasta. I guessed it was not a regular occurrence in this prestige establishment. Jace on the other hand was not so quiet. "Are you that hungry?"

My shoulders stiffened. "No, but I assume Gabe is."

Jace nodded. "I'll have the same thing."

The waiter shifted. "Three orders of the three cheese Alfredo pasta?"

"That's what was ordered." Jace said stiffly.

The waiter blushed deeply. "Yes, Sir."

He turned on his heel and walked quickly to the kitchen. I looked at Jace as though he had lost his mind. "That was rude."

He cocked his head. "How so?"

"You frightened and humiliated him." Disbelief fringed my tone.

"And, I will tip him well for his accosted emotions, I assure you."

I bristled. "That's not the point."

"What is the point?" Jace demanded. "I'm trying to take you on a nice date and you're trying incessantly to pick a fight with me."

He was right. I lowered my eyes. "I'm sorry."

Were there no other words in my vocabulary?

"What's wrong, Olivia? Tell me."

I shook my head. "I'm just frazzled."

"I understand." He brought his wine to his lips. "I also understand you think you can push me away. You will not succeed, Olivia, so don't waste your energy."

My face heated and I picked at my nails. I was silent for long minutes and Jace seemed to take the quiet as permission to continue.

"We will get through this together." Jace said confidently. "I refuse to be without you. And, I'm not allowing you to leave me."

I looked into his eyes, and for the first time since meeting him, I saw a vulnerability that pulled at my heartstrings. "I don't want you to leave me. I don't want to be without you."

"Good." Jace smiled. "Let's enjoy lunch."

"Okay," I breathed. A smile pulled at my lips and I let the ember of happiness grow inside me. I prayed it would last the rest of the day, and into the night, before being snuffed out.

"Tell me," his eyes glowed. "What do you plan to open with the space you have under construction?"

He didn't know? I ran through our past meetings in my mind and realized we never really talked about anything personal. He didn't know me all that well, and I didn't know him. But, I loved him.

The thought robbed me of speech. How on earth could I be in love with someone I knew nothing about? The thought was ridiculous.

I regained my bearings and answered whimsically. "I plan to open a café bookstore."

Jace set his wine on the table. His eyes glowed with surprise and my heart fluttered. "A bookstore?"

"And, a café." I added quickly. "I want to open a place of peace, and what better way? I mean, warm drinks and books," I sighed at the heavenly thought. "There is nothing more peaceful."

Jace nodded. "Do you intend to make it into a chain?"

I frowned. "I hadn't thought of that." I admitted almost shamefully. "I wanted this for me. Not necessarily for the money, but for the life it will give me."

"What life is that?" He asked. Interest burned in the depths of his eyes and my heart fluttered for what felt like the millionth time in the last minute.

"A life where not everything revolves around pressure, manipulation and capital." I said, thinking of my parents. My mood dimmed and Jace shifted. He noticed my change in attitude and his brows furrowed as his eyes studied me.

"Tell me about your family." He asked. I wished he wasn't so observant.

"There is nothing to tell." I answered. "They care more for image than they do about happiness. They care about the clothes they wear, the size of their houses and the number of zeros on their bank statement more than they care about appreciating the strokes in a painting, hearing the laughter of a child and growing old with warm memories. That is not family." I met his eyes. "They are not family."

Jace nodded, thoughtfully. "You do not agree with their way of life?"

"No." I shook my head. "I don't."

"What do you see in me?" Jace asked. I could hear the wounded interest in his tone and I wanted to quell it immediately.