Page 52 of Meant For Love

“Yeah,” Nash and I both answer at the same time.

“I mean, not that I would let you anywhere near my wife,” Nash chimes in.

“Then I went on vacation, and I’ve been back in LA for a week. It took you a week to come and see me.” I shake my head. “I was out of the house for five minutes before Nash chased me. That’s someone who wants to be committed to me.” I point at Nash. “Not this.”

“Two and a half,” he whispers in my ear. “Had to make sure you actually left.”

“Not now,” I hiss at him. “I hope that you get the point now, Josh. I’m not answering your phone calls anymore. I’m not going to meet you for anything else. It’s over.” I look at Nash. “Now, I’m ready to go.” He nods at me, slides his hand from around my waist, and takes my hand. “Goodbye, Josh.”

Twenty-Two

Nash

The minute she says, “Goodbye, Josh,” I turn and walk out of the restaurant, pulling her with me. We walk past the hostess station, and I give her a quick nod. When I walked in, she smiled up at me and asked me if I had a reservation. It took me less than three seconds before my eyes found Zoey, and I ignored her, walking straight to the table. I don’t even know which table I took the chair from; I just know it was in passing to their table.

“Have a great night,” she says from behind me as I push the door open and step outside of the restaurant. My body feels like it’s one big fucking nerve ready to fucking explode. I spot my car and make my way over to it. Stopping behind it, I wait for her to open the doors.

“Where is your car?” Zoey asks from behind me, and I look over at her, stopping and turning to face her.

“I took an Uber,” I tell her, and she lifts her eyebrows at me.

“You were so sure I’d leave with you?” She folds her arms over her chest.

I lean against the trunk of my car, putting one foot on the bumper. I didn’t want to do this with her here, but it’s been fucking brewing all fucking day long. “If you hadn’t”—I try to keep my cool—“I would have carried you over my fucking shoulder, but only after I ordered the most expensive bottle of wine for that dickwad to pay for.” I point at the restaurant. Not sure I want to point out that he still isn’t fucking chasing her.

“He’s not a dickwad,” Zoey counters, and it’s the wrong fucking thing to say right now.

“Who asks a married woman to go out on a date with them?” I hold up my two hands, waiting for her to give me an answer.

She tries to hide her smile, making me go from borderline Hulk pissed off to wanting to grab her face and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her. “A dickwad.” She looks down. “Are we really having this discussion in a parking lot?” She looks around.

“No,” I say but I don’t move, “but we are going to address this.”

I can see her eyes start to get irritated, and I know her annoyance is growing when she folds her arms over her chest as she cocks a hip. “What if one of my exes,” I point at myself, and the minute I say exes, the irritated look goes to pissed off, “asked me to go out to dinner?”

“Which one?” She raises her eyebrows, definitely fucking pissed, and I’m happy she’s pissed because I’ve been pissed since fucking Monday, and it’s now Saturday. “Should we start at the letter A?”

“We can start wherever you want to start. Let’s say Alabama.”

“You went out with someone named Alabama?” she hisses at me.

“I didn’t, I was picking an A name, and that’s the first one that came to mind,” I answer her honestly. “Would you be okay with it?” I put my palms on the back of the car, outstretched beside me.

“You never even said anything!” she shouts, throwing up her hands.

“If my ex asked me to dinner alone, how would you feel?” I look at her as she thinks, but I can quietly see she’s struggling when she finally admits to me.

“I’d be jealous.”

“Exactly.” I try not to raise my voice. “You came here knowing he wanted you back, even though he doesn’t deserve you.” I remind myself I need to keep my cool. “It killed me to see him touch you. It took everything in me not to ruin my shirt with his blood on my fist.” I push away from the car and go to stand in front of her. “You are my wife. He will never be the man to make you happy.”

I grab her face in my hands and see her chest rising and falling. “Like you will?”

I grin at her before my mouth claims her. “Baby, I’m just getting started.” I pull her to me and kiss her with all the anger and frustration I have had for this past week. I move my hands from her face to around her, pulling her closer to me. Her hand wraps around my waist and her other hand fists my shirt at the same time. “Get in the car.”

“Nash,” she pants.

“Car now,” I tell her, “and when we get home, I want you fucking naked.” Her eyes darken, and I know she wants that just as much as I do. “Is that okay, Zoey?”