let me tell you about my dreams. Dreams, Grace. Did you know that all growing up I wanted to be a surfer?"
She laughs and I have a glimmer of hope. "Yeah," I say. "A fucking surfer."
She cocks her head, maybe interested. "Do you surf?"
Now it’s my turn to laugh. "No. I mean, I did try, but holy shit, I was terrible at it. And to be honest, I sorta hate the ocean."
"I’ve always wanted to snorkel and dive. But I’ve never had the opportunity."
"Dive, huh? I tried it once but it was for a movie role I never got, so I never did it again. But I bet… I bet you’d be great at it, Grace. I bet I’d like it if we did it together. We should’ve gone diving on Saint Thomas instead of… well, what we did."
Her shoulders relax but I respond by clutching her tighter. "Have dinner with me. Please. Let’s talk about dreams."
She’s shaking her head no before I’m even done talking. "I’m afraid to do that, Vaughn. I really am. Because that might breed hope and I don’t want to get my hopes up about you. I just… I just don’t trust you. I think that the minute I get comfortable, you’ll leave me."
"I don’t know how to fix that, Grace. I can’t tell you anything that will make you believe me. I can only show you, and you won’t give me a chance to show you because you don’t think I deserve it. So how can I change your mind if you don’t give me another chance?"
"Even if I did give you another chance tonight, and even if it was amazing, there’s no guarantee that tomorrow will be just as good. What if we wake up and things are worse? I can’t do it.”
"Just listen. No one has guaranteed happiness, Grace. That’s absurd. Your bar is impossibly high. How can I predict the future and promise you good days for the rest of your life? It’s not reasonable. And you know that. You’re only telling me these things to make excuses. To make me go away. If things suck tomorrow, then we deal with them. Like people do. One date, Grace. Right now. We’ve never had a real date. In public, I mean. We’re in public. This restaurant is cozy and quiet. And I bet they have good food here. Have dinner with me. If you don’t want to talk about your dreams, listen to me talk about mine." She bows her head into my chest and I rest my chin on her head. "One dinner. Just give me a few hours of food and conversation. That’s all I’m asking."
She’s still and silent in my arms. Very wounded. Very suspicious. Very vulnerable. And so very, very, very much in need of a win.
"Tonight you win, Grace. You win. I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine."
Chapter Nine
I LET Vaughn lead me to a table. The hostess gives me a funny look, thinking what, I can only imagine after the fight I put up to keep Vaughn away from me.
But of course, I gave in, didn’t I?
I bet they all give in. He’s a man who does not respond well to no. I’m not sure I like that. In fact, I’m not sure I like anything about him in real life.
"Drinks?" the hostess asks as she places the menus down in front of us.
"Another margarita for me, please." If I’m going to do this, I definitely need alcohol. Otherwise I’ll overthink every word he says and assign hidden meanings to things that should be taken at face value.
"Mineral water, please," Vaughn says.
Hmmm. He’s in Mr. Responsible mode. "How was your premiere?" I ask him politely. "I saw you on TV." And apparently I am not quite drunk enough to dampen down my venom because he shoots me a look.
"Valencia is just a friend, Grace. Not even a real one at that. Just a publicity date."
I cock an eyebrow at that. "Good to know. Just one question, Mr. Asher. Do you have any authentic relationships? Any? A friend? Your brother? No? He’s a player in your game as well? Your daughter? Oh, no, another player. She’s a little young to be your legal counsel, don’t you think?"
He sighs. " This is giving me a chance?" He stares at me. Like I’m the one who’s disappointing him right now, instead of the