Page 12 of Made For Romeo

“Wow, you were so sure of yourself.” I shake my head, walking into the hotel and not making a scene because I don’t want to bring any attention to myself.

“I made the reservation while you were getting dressed,” he tells me, and I look over at him as I ignore how beautiful the lobby is. As soon as we walk into the restaurant, all I see is the long marble bar that is against the wall with red stools. A long gold chandelier is draped all above the bar top, with bartenders in the back working their magic. There are small tables all around the room with different colored chairs. The woman at the hostess stand smiles at us and then does a double take at Romeo. I roll my eyes, looking away. “Reservation for two, under Beckett.”

“Right this way,” she announces and turns to walk away. He waits for me to walk before following her. His hand is on my lower back as she stops at a table in the back of the restaurant. He pulls out the chair for me, and I sit down, smiling at the hostess. He walks over to the chair in front of me and sits down. Not even paying attention to the woman, which is very strange. Usually, he was always very smiley to everyone. “Your server will be right with you,” she says, handing us the menus before walking away. I scan the menu, knowing that I won’t be here long enough to order.

“I’m starving,” he declares, looking at the menu, and it just feels so strange because it’s never ever been forced with us. We could sit down and talk for hours about everything and nothing, and now all I can do is wait for the buzzing of my phone to ring. “So tell me,” Romeo starts, and I look up at him. He puts the menu he had in his hand to the side. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” I reply, looking around the restaurant to see if anyone is taking our pictures. I see a couple of people look over, but mostly people are busy enjoying their time. The sound of people laughing is also in the distance. I wish I could tell him that I’m doing amazing. Even though I’m thriving, it’s just not what I thought it would be. I wish I could tell him I’ve fallen in love, but I would have to date in order to even do that. Then again, it comes full circle back to the one man I did fall for who went and broke my heart, but instead, I paste a fake smile on my face. “You know how it goes, same old, same old.”

EIGHT

ROMEO

I lean back in my chair, looking at her, and my heart just feels so freaking full. I don’t even know if this is how it felt before, or at least I don’t remember. Maybe it did and maybe I was just too stupid to know better. I listen to her say the same words I used to say to her when I didn’t want to discuss things. Same old, same old, used when we either didn’t want to talk about things or didn’t want to be bothered about it. Something that we discussed when we were together.

“Aren’t you going to ask about me?” I put my hands on the table, smirking at her.

She sits up in her chair and pushes her shoulders back. Her bare shoulders. Shoulders I would love to kiss softly. When she walked down the stairs in that outfit, my cock came to life faster than I could tell it not to. Even if I did tell him to go away, he had a mind of his own. She always took my breath away, but now that I know how much I feel for her, it’s like it’s all come to light. Maybe it was there before, but I didn’t see it or know what it was. It took losing her for me to see all these things that were probably in front of me the whole time. “Okay, fine, what have you been up to, Romeo?” She says my name and then looks around.

“I just finished wrapping the movie that you helped me run lines for,” I tell her. When I got the part, she was so excited for me, and we had basically been together for a week at that point. I didn’t even know what it was, but I had been at her house for seven straight days, and I didn’t even want to leave. I got the script a week later, and at night after she would finish her homework or whatever she had to do, we would sit in her living room with her on the couch and me pacing the room rehearsing the lines.

“That’s interesting.” She looks at me, and I can see her eyes twinkle.

“Why?” I ask, not sure what she means.

“Well, from what you were doing, I would have thought you were in rehab or something.” She smirks at me. “You know, with the whole making amends with me.” She shrugs, and I can’t help but laugh out loud, and when I do, she looks around quickly.

Ever since she sat down, she would say something and then look around. “What are you doing?” I ask as she looks back at me, but before she can even answer me, the server comes over.

“Good evening,” he says, pouring us two glasses of water. “My name is Bruce, and I’ll be your server this evening.” He looks at me and then at Gabriella, smiling at her. “Do we want to start with a drink?”

“I’ll have whiskey on ice,” she orders, and he just smirks at her, and in my mind, I see myself throat-punching him. He looks at me and I don’t smirk at him, actually, I glare at him so he gets the point that if he wants to live, he will leave.

“I’ll have water,” I tell him and he nods at me, turning and walking away. I wait for him to be out of listening distance before I ask, “Since when don’t you drink white wine?”

“Since I’ve moved on.” She doesn’t skip a beat nor does she even look at me; instead her eyes are looking at the menu. I try not to let the sting get to me, but it fucking does. I also know that this is what I have to do to get her back.

“How do you like living in Dallas?” I change the subject, and she shrugs.

“I’m close to my family, so I guess it’s nice.” My eyebrows pinch together.

“I thought your family lived in New York,” I ask and she finally puts the menu down and looks at me. She sits forward, putting her arms on the table crossed in front of her.

“I have family in New York and Dallas,” she finally says.

“I saw that your sister is expecting a baby.” I take a sip of the water because I’ve never been so nervous in my whole life.

“She is, a baby boy.” She smiles, and I can tell she is proud. In the time we were together, she would talk about her family often, but in general and not as a whole.

“With the hockey player,” I prompt. She nods, and Bruce comes over again to interrupt us.

“Here is your whiskey,” he says, putting the drink down in front of her, but this time, he doesn’t look at her. “The chef would like you to know that he is sending out some dishes for you to try.” He looks at me. “If that is okay, Mr. Beckett?”

The minute he says my name, I see Gabriella look around again. “That is fine.” I nod at him, then look at her. “Is there anything on the menu that you saw that you want to try?”

“I’m good,” she states, grabbing her drink and bringing it to her mouth. She takes a sip, and I’m jealous of a crystal glass. Bruce walks away while she puts the glass down on the table.

“What are you looking around for?” I ask as she looks at me. “Are you looking for the paparazzi?”