Page 52 of By All Accounts
I pulled him to a stop in front of a bougie-looking bar with plaid wallpaper and velvet barstools. The front door was open and soft jazz drifted out onto the sidewalk.
“Fancy some brown liquor?” he asked. “It looks like a place that would have a lot of it.”
“You know I’m weak for a good Manhattan.”
Daniel pulled me inside and found a small table in front of the window, a round thing with two massive high-backed chairs facing each other. It was not a practical seating situation, but the vibe of the bar was impeccable. I tried to pretend it didn’t bother me that the chairs made it difficult to hold hands. I’d make sure to touch Daniel more during dinner, maybe after. We sat down and we ordered, admiring the ambiance while the bartender mixed two Manhattans for us.
“Sophie would hate this place,” I said, and Daniel laughed, resting his head against the back of the chair. “She would.”
“Too claustrophobic.”
I didn’t know a single thing about Sophie’s design preferences, but I’d been in her home…in their home, and it was the absolute opposite of whatever this bar wanted to be. Sophie leaned into statement colors but favored open space. Marshall would have called her a minimalist, but that felt reductive to me.
“She does love a good open floor plan,” Daniel agreed, lips twisting into a soft smile.
“How was cake tasting?”
Daniel settled both hands on his stomach and patted his absolutely flat belly like there was a baby inside of it.
“It’s hard to say no to lemon curd.”
I hummed, filing the information away. I would have pegged Sophie as the tart fruit dessert type. Daniel had always struck me as a chocolate man, gluttonous and rich.
“Is that your frontrunner?”
“Sophie’s,” he said, and I felt vindicated, a flash of pride bursting in the center of my chest. “I liked the chocolate.”
Our drinks arrived, and I held mine in the air until Daniel clinked the rim of his glass against mine. I moved the cherry skewer out of the way and took a sip, grateful for the warm burn of the liquor down my throat.
“Good thing you can have both,” I said, talking not just about the cake.
“Very good,” he agreed, gaze focused on me.
“Any progress on a date?”
“Nothing concrete, but probably the fall. Maybe September.”
“It’s a nice time of year.”
Daniel sipped his drink thoughtfully. “Sophie said she’d like if the three of us could spend some time together this weekend.”
I imagine she had, after the text message I’d sent her at lunch. I didn’t know what came over me. It wasn’t like me to be so bold, at least, not anymore. Before Neil and Annette, Ithrew caution to the wind with most things, but the hurt of their betrayal still lingered, still colored every choice I made.
“She mentioned it at lunch. I told her my calendar was open.”
“And she left it to me to finalize the plans.”
I leaned forward, elbows braced on my knees with my drink hanging loosely in my fingers. Daniel’s legs were spread, slim thighs pressed against the soft material of his black chinos. He watched me quietly, lips barely parted but chest heaving with every breath.
“You’re submissive to her,” I said softly. “Right?”
Daniel’s cheeks darkened. “I’m not sure that’s a word I’d use.”
“But it fits? You take care of her needs, you do as you’re told.” I paused, mouth going dry. “You worship her.”
“Youworship her,” he said back to me. “I saw your face when you had her spread out on the dining room table.”
What a dangerous thing, to be seen so clearly. And that thought was the one that brought my past with Daniel into sharp and unavoidable focus. It was disingenuous to move forward with him or with Sophie until I’d had a chance to clear the air over our previous coupling. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Neil and Annette, but Daniel deserved the truth and I wanted to give it to him.
