7. Sam

sam

. . .

Iarrive at The Nook ten minutes earlier than I told Isla to arrive, and I've never been so nervous for a date in my fucking life. I can talk to a thousand Candy's, but one minute with Isla, and I'm tongue-tied. I know I'm out of my league with her, but by some force of nature, she's agreed to dinner.

10:28… 10:30… 10:32… 10:35…

No Isla.

Four minutes and a gin and tonic later, my phone chimes with a text.

Isla

Running behind. Should be there in five minutes.

I breathe a sigh of relief that I'm not being stood up. I finish my drink and anxiously await her arrival. Like clockwork, I'm ordering a second drink when a familiar hand touches my shoulder.

Swivelling on the stool, Isla stands in front of me, bashful and fucking irresistible. I pull her closer until she's standing between my legs, her hands resting on my shoulders.

"Sorry, I'm late."

"What's our current count?"

She frowns. "Current count?"

"I believe it's hovering around thirty."

It takes her a moment, but then bursts out in laughter. "For a second, I thought you meant how many times you wanted to… you know."

Unable to wait, I tuck her hair behind her ear and bring her lips to mine. "You're really here?"

"Apparently, I'm not so terrible in bed," she laughs, but anger boils inside me.

I pull back, looking between her eyes. "You're fucking incredible, Isla. But, I want more from you than your pussy. I know I don't deserve you, but?—"

Isla presses her finger to my lips. "You deserve better than someone who judges you. I was wrong… but I want to make it right. We only just met, and I feel like I'm living in some sort of fantasy world. Men like you don't exist in real life. It's me who doesn't deserve someone like you, Sam. So, if we want this to work, we both need to be a bit more flexible with our standards and take this slow."

"You know, I'm quite flexible," I jest, earning myself a small laugh. "The sexy librarian and the Vegas performer. Quite the perfect pair, if you ask me."

She eyes me suspiciously. "How did you know I was a librarian?"

"Just a guess. The message about being between the stacks, I figured you worked at a bookstore or a library." She bites her lip, and I trace her jaw, then take her chin in my hand. "When was the last time you were properly loved?" Her eyes close, and the hurt radiates off her. "The next time I ask you that question, I want the answer to be me."

She opens her eyes, and not shying away from my suggestion, she asks, "When was the last time you were?"

"I don't remember," I answer honestly. "But I'd give anything for a chance for it to be you." Isla wraps her arms around my neck, and I hold her close. "I'll never do what he did. I promise."

She shakes her head and nestles into the crook of my neck. "You can't promise that."

"Yes, I absolutely can."

"Sam, party of two," the hostess calls.

Isla pulls back and kisses me softly. "That's us?"

I nod, not ignoring the implication that there is indeed an us. As we make our way into the dining room, hope blooms in my chest that this could be it; I could've found the one woman in this world who was meant for me. Mine.