I hugged my legs more tightly, clasping my elbows. “It . . . when he asked me to take him back, I assumed he’d realized what he’d had in me. And he did, but not what I’d thought.” I rested my chin on my knees. “He said he never should’ve left someone like me for a stronger woman. To him, I wasn’t loyal or devoted—just easy to control. He was the first person to ever make me feel so meek.”
“And I was the second.” Understanding dawned on Sebastian’s face. “I came along and said you’d get run over in this city.”
“Before Neal, I would’ve brushed it off. But you hit a nerve.”
“Georgina, you aren’t meek. For one, you didn’t take him back. Secondly, you wouldn’t let him bully you into not adopting a pet that needed you.”
“That was for Bruno, not myself.”
He shook his head. “You’re drawing non-existent lines. What matters is that you were strong. For him and for yourself. You’re both George and Georgina. You got up in front of a room that first day at Modern Man and gave the shit out of your presentation—no one else.”
It was such a simple concept that I was embarrassed to admit I’d never really thought of it that way. I was still the one standing at the front of the room, not some version of myself that I could return to a box later . . . even if it sometimes felt that way.
And of course there was the fact that I’d forgotten to be either version all day. I’d just been myself.
“Now, since I can’t kick my own ass,” Sebastian said, “tell me where to find that cocksucka Neal so I can make him sorry he ever opened his pie hole.”
Smiling, I pushed Sebastian’s shoulder. “I have to admit, it’s a little sexy when your accent surfaces.”
He caught my wrist, sliding his hand down until he held mine. “I’m serious. I don’t like how he treated you. Not at all.”
“You don’t have to worry about him.”
“And Frank?”
My insides pulled, sending a twinge of excitement down between my legs. Sebastian wanted me all to himself. I hadn’t pegged him for the possessive type, but I recognized my own jealousy in him, which had quietly formed seeing him with Isabella, June, or in photographs with other women. “There’s nobody else,” I said. “You?”
“Not even close.” He squeezed my hand and let it go, leaning back on his palms. “Did you give Bruno his meds?”
“Yes. Thank you for asking.”
“See?” He grinned. “I’m a natural at this dog thing.”
“It’s easy to think that when you don’t have one. From the outside, it looks like lounging in Central Park, cuddling on the couch, and posting cute videos. But there’s a lot of shit too. Literally.”
“You keep trying to talk me out of adopting Opal,” he said.
“It isn’t something you can decide on a whim. What if she chews up your furniture? What if you want to leave town? What if she gets sick and needs treatment?”
Sebastian flinched. “Then I’d take care of her. Who’s going to return a dog because she’s sick? What a load of shit.”
“Neal would’ve.”
Sebastian looked as if I’d sucker punched him.
I hadn’t meant to compare him to Neal after I’d just finished explaining that was why I wouldn’t see Frank again. “I didn’t mean—”
“Give me more credit than that, Georgina.”
“There’s no glamour in taking care of a sick dog. His care got in the way of vacations and nights out and even nights in.” Bruno’s legs twitched as he surely dreamed of chasing squirrels and a certain attractive beagle-foxhound mix. “You never know how you’ll react until you’ve been in that situation.”
“I do know. I have been in it.” He briefly clenched his teeth. “My mom had cancer.”
My breath caught, and I instantly regretted everything I’d just said. He hadn’t said how she’d died. No wonder he’d been so helpful with Bruno. I covered my heart. “Sebastian.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he said, his expression easing. “You and Bruno deserve better than to be abandoned that way. Opal too. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know,” I said softly. It was nice to hear that from someone other than my therapist, mom, or Luciano. “I’m sure she was so proud of you. You were a great son, and you’ll make a great dog dad.”
He glanced at the movie screen. “How’s your food?”
I wanted to probe further about his relationship with her, but I let him change the subject. “Good,” I said. “Really good, Sebastian. It’s not too good to be true, is it?”
He smiled. “Tony’s makes a mean spaghetti and meatballs.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
“My guard is down. You know me now, better than anyone else at the office—better than anyone lately, aside from my family and Luciano.”
He sat forward, brushing grass off his hands. “Is that a bad thing?”
I tried to configure my thoughts in a way that wouldn’t offend him. I didn’t want to be rude or skeptical or accusatory. I also didn’t want to trust blindly and end up in another Neal situation. “This isn’t a game anymore.”
“This was never a game for me, Georgina. I was scared for my job. I still am. It was never personal.”
It was either the best or worst moment to bring up my talk with Vance. The date had gone from simulation to reality, and that meant I had more to lose. I wasn’t entirely sure Sebastian would understand if I told him what I knew, but I was sure I didn’t want this night to end here and now.
“Can we really go from hating each other to dating each other?” I asked.
“Justin’s convinced it’s the best way to do it.”
“Justin sure has a lot to say about it.”
“If he were here, he’d be handing me a spaghetti noodle right about now.”
I laughed, spinning my bangles around my wrist. I wasn’t in the habit of discussing a kiss before it happened. I couldn’t decide if that made things more or less awkward.
Sebastian set his empty dish aside. “All done?” He piled my plate on top of his, and he moved closer, dropping his eyes to my mouth. “I’m actually pretty annoyed with myself that I’m not your only, and not even your first date this week.”
I shivered, both excited and nervous at the prospect of finally kissing him. “But you were the best one.”
“You cold?” He took the blanket from my lap and wrapped it around my shoulders. Pulling me closer by the edges of it, he kissed my cheek and whispered, “For the record, I never hated you. But if you thought that, I’d like to make it up to you.”
If anything, my shivering increased with his words. “How?” I asked breathlessly.
“Candy.” He released me and looked into the picnic basket. “What’s your favorite go-to chocolate movie snack?”
His nearness had stolen my wits. I pulled the blanket closed around me and tried to think straight. “You won’t find it in there.”
“Try me.”
“100 Grand.”
He glanced up, blinking at me. “Are you kidding? Whose favorite candy bar is 100 Grand?”
I shrugged. “There’s something about that crispy rice and caramel combo.”
“Well.” The contents of the basket crinkled as he sorted through them. “I don’t have that, but it’s okay. I’ve got something even better.”
I twisted my lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
He pulled out a Butterfinger. “If you like crispy, this is the one. The crumbly peanut butter flakes . . .” He groaned. “Nearly as good as sex.”
I took it from him and inspected the wrapper. “Not the sex I have.”
His expression darkened, and he took the bar from me, tossing it aside. “And just like that,” he said, getting closer, “I’m hungry for a different kind of dessert.”