Chapter 17Emir

Chapter 17 Emir

I admit, calling an Uber to follow Janie into town wasn’t the smartest decision I’d ever made. By the time I arrived in front of the Masonic hotel, the only landmark I could think of when booking the ride, I still had no plan, and no idea where Janie was dining with this guy. But for some reason, I felt better being here. Closer to her.

Maybe I wouldn’t even tell her I’d been here. I’d just take a walk, eat something, and return. Hopefully before she did, although I hated the idea of her staying out late.

I walked around town, admiring the Art Deco detailing and signs, all perfectly representing the 1930s, watching the Saturday night buzz at bars and restaurants. Happy couples and groups of singles, dressed up so casually I felt overdressed in my dress shirt.

After ten minutes of walking, I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want to find Janie. I didn’t want to interrupt her date or embarrass her. I only wanted to see the guy she was dating. She’d told me nothing about him, not even his name, and my imagination was running wild.

I was passing another restaurant, about to order Uber to get back, when a flicker of light behind a window caught my eye. Someone was lighting a tall candle. I stopped, observing the scene. I should buy some candles, I thought. They were an excellent way to add ambience and take beautiful photos. I could snap one of Janie. As the flame on the candle grew, my gaze swept to the person next to it.

My breath caught in my throat. I was staring into Janie’s eyes. Huge, bewildered eyes. She was so close I could have reached out to touch her arm, had there not been a glass in-between. Her eyes flicked across the table, at the man holding her hand. Wait? Why was he holding her hand?

Janie looked back at me, raising her brows, and I slowly shook my head, gesturing over my shoulder, then backtracked to where I’d come from, until my legs hit the outdoor table of the next restaurant. It was an Italian one, with checkered tablecloths. I took a seat, ordering a cup of tea and a pizza. There. Now I had a reason to be here. I was hungry, after all.

I sat at the table, my gut in knots, my eyes trained at the doorway of the neighboring restaurant. Would Janie make an excuse and come out to talk to me? Or would she tell her date she was being stalked by an unhinged Turkish man? Every part of that sentence was accurate, I realized, cold sweat prickling on my neck. Following her had been a huge mistake.

But I couldn’t let go of her. Not yet. Was it possible to have this experience, let myself get swept into an affair that crashed and burned within two weeks? On the surface, it didn’t seem that dangerous. Someone else might have considered it a bit of fun. But I wasn’t a fun guy.

After the longest fifteen minutes of my life, everything arrived at once—my pizza, my tea, and Janie. She snuck behind me as my attention was momentarily on the waiter and grabbed a slice with the most capsicum and pepperoni.

“Thank you! I was starving. The salad I ordered was drenched in this disgusting curry sauce. So much mayo. Yuck.” She grinned, sitting across the table. “Also, what are you doing here?”

“Please, help yourself.” I pushed the plate towards her. “I—” I looked at her and lost the ability to speak.

Janie looked incredible. Her hair swirled over her shoulders in shiny, loose waves and her eyes hypnotized me. The dark green dress hugged her curves so perfectly my mouth went dry.

“You look…” The words had truly deserted my brain.

“I look…?” She prompted.

“Great,” I finished lamely.

“Great,” she repeated brightly. “You don’t think it’s too revealing?” She brushed her fingers down the plunging neckline of the dress, eyes mock innocent.

Yes. It was too revealing for dating someone else, but I couldn’t tell her that.

Janie leaned in, her eyes serious. “What are you doing here, Emir?”

“I was feeling a bit stir crazy alone in the house, so I came here for dinner.”

“So, you’re not spying on my date?” Her eyes narrowed.

I looked her square in the eye. “I am.” Honesty was the only thing I was good at. If I tried to keep up any false story, it’d unravel fast. “I’m sorry, Janie. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?”

I gestured at the other restaurant, then at her and the sexiest dress ever. “This! You, in that… dating someone else. I can’t.”

This wasn’t what I’d agreed on with my brain only moments ago. But as soon as I saw her, some primal part of me reared its ugly head, spouting these nonsensical, jealous words.