the night after getting a call?”
That finally got his full attention. He closed the menu and lifted his bemused gaze to me, his brows dipping low over his eyes in a frown. “What’s goin’ on, here, Hayden? Is something wrong?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could get a word out, his phone started ringing from inside his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and gave the screen a cursory glance, his jaw ticking as he pressed down on the side button to silence it.
“You don’t need to get that?”
“It’s nothing,” he grunted, looking unhappy all of a sudden.
“You sure?”
“Positive,” he clipped just as the waitress returned with our drinks. Micah lifted his beer to his lips and drank half of it in a matter of seconds.
“Uh . . . are you ready to order?” the befuddled waitress asked. It was obvious she felt the tension stewing between us and was unsure how to handle it.
We quickly placed our orders, and even though the restaurant was beautiful, the ambience romantic, and I was in love with the man I was with, I knew the night was shot, and all I wanted was to go home. He wasn’t going to talk to me. He had no intention of opening up, and I couldn’t accept anything less.
“All right,” Micah started gruffly once we were alone again. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but it’s obvious there’s something on your mind, so why don’t you just tell me what it is.”
Once again, his phone interrupted us when it pinged with an incoming message.
“I just wish you’d talk to me,” I admitted when it became clear he had no intention of reading the text that had come through. “I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and I know you’ve been stressed. I don’t understand why you won’t share that with me.”
“Hayden, it’s not—son of a bitch,” he finished on a grunt when the phone went off for a third time. “I’m sorry, baby, I really need to take this. It’s a work thing. I promise I’ll make it quick.”
Before I could form a response, he stood and started across the room, leaving me sitting in the middle of a romantic restaurant all by myself.
I sipped my wine as I waited . . . and waited. I’d gotten through half the glass by the time the waitress returned with our entrees. Setting my filet down in front of me, she gave me a look of pity, and I gave her a small, tight smile in return before she walked off.
The delicious smells wafted up from my plate, causing my stomach to let out a low grumble. “Screw this,” I whispered to myself as I tossed my napkin onto the table and pushed my chair back. In the ten minutes I’d sat at that table all alone, I’d gone from worried to pissed, and I had every intension of letting my so-called date know.
I ignored the looks I was getting from the other patrons as I stormed across the restaurant and down the short hall I’d seen Micah take earlier. Around the corner were the restrooms, and just beyond that, a small alcove where I heard Micah’s voice coming from. I was geared up to tear him a new one as I got closer. Then I heard his hushed voice and skidded to a stop at what he said.
“Look, Charlie, I know this is difficult, but it won’t be too much longer, I swear.” He paused as the person on the other end of the call spoke. “I know, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. You already know, if I had my way, this whole thing would be over. I’m tryin’ my best. I just need you to bear with me for a little while longer, darlin’. Okay?”
My stomach bottomed out as I took slow, measured steps backward. When I knew he wouldn’t hear the click of my heels, I spun around and hightailed it out of there.
I made it back to our table on shaky legs and sucked down the rest of my wine, nearly choking on the lump that had formed in my throat. I sat there, working to keep my breathing calm and measured so I wouldn’t burst into tears, and as I waited for Micah to get off his call with another woman, I heard the distant bang of that other shoe dropping.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Micah
Between the phone call from Charlie, threatening everything from killing Dalton in his sleep to taking