me by reaching out and steadying her hand. "You could go back now. I'm sure your program would understand," he says gruffly.
A shadow that I don't understand passes over her gaze, and I wonder what other secrets Valentina Is hiding from us.
"Yeah, maybe," she comments confusingly. I open my mouth to ask her more questions, but a waiter appears. He's one of those hot French dudes like you see in the movies, and he only has eyes for Val. I feel a growl growing in my chest at the way he's looking at her, and I have to actively work to calm myself down.
The other two aren't much better though. Logan is playing with the knife on the table like he's tempted to stab the guy with it, and Carter is sending him a warning glare that would scare anyone.
I'm a little bit scared of it to be quite frank.
The waiter seems blissfully unaware of the tension at the table and leans towards her. "The Chef Special for the Mademoiselle," he simpers at her.
"Thank you," she murmurs, blushing under his attention.
I'm transported back in time to when she would blush like that every time one of us looked at her.
The waiter just stands there expectantly, a kind of dazed look on his face, and I roll my eyes.
Get in line buddy, I think.
"I think we're good," barks Carter, and the waiter stumbles when he sees the threatening look on his face.
"I'll check in with you later," he says stiffly, before practically running away.
Valentina looks like she's about to cry.
"What's wrong, love?" Logan says worriedly, wrapping his arm around her waist and placing a soft kiss against her forehead.
Again, I'm hit with that déjà vu feeling, like the ten years haven't passed at all.
"It's just been a long time since I had anyone who cared," she says brokenly, before she actually does start crying.
Carter is looking at her like she is crazy, but I’m just jealous. I want to be the one to comfort her right now. The best I can do from across the table is to reach out my hand to grab hers.
We are getting stares. I don't think people usually burst into tears in Michelin star restaurants after all. One particular couple is staring hard.
"The onions are strong," I comment towards them loudly, and they quickly avert their gazes.
My antics garner a laugh from Valentina, and she's able to calm down a little. There are answering grins from Logan and Carter. It almost feels like we're a team again, one where our every mission is to keep a smile on this girl's face.
"Well, should we eat?" Logan asks, gesturing to the pile of appetizers at the table.
"This is one of my favorite restaurants in the world," comments Carter as he places a few items on his plate.
I snort at the haughty way he says it. "We're so cosmopolitan nowadays, aren't we, Carter?" I taunt.
Carter tries to glare at me, but I can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Apparently, there is a sense of humor in there somewhere.
It's an interesting thing though how immediately I've resumed my role in the group. I don't think any of my teammates would have labeled me as having a sense of humor over the last ten years. And now here I am, fucking cracking jokes like I'm Kevin Hart.
Who am I right now?
And who have I been the last ten years?
Chapter 8
Then
________________________________________
Logan
“Are you nervous?” I ask Val, giving her a little nudge with my elbow to grab her attention.
“Is it that obvious?” She laughs as she continues to shuffle from one foot to the other, biting her lower lip and looking into the distance.
I know I should play it cool, but I can’t help it when my gaze slips off hers and fixes on that one spot on her mouth. Since the day Val kissed me, I have become mesmerized by her ruby full lips. Maybe even before then. Before she showed up in my life, I never really gave much thought about girls or their body parts. To me, they were just stupid and annoying. Maybe it’s because I have four older sisters who live to pester me twenty-four seven that I’ve always preferred to stay away from girls in general. I mean, I get enough of them at home as it is.
But Val is different.
There’s just something about her; something that grabs hold of me and won’t let me go, no matter how hard I try. Not that