Chapter Five

Tobias

I gather the few bags I need to set up shop before making my way inside. Upon entering, it's nothing like I expected. Though Meggie's sits in a ratty-looking building in an outdated shopping center, the interior, including the paint and the furnishings, are new and somehow distinctly Cecelia. Inside, it's a complete one-eighty in feel from the pothole-filled parking lot and chipped and faded paint of the building. It's cozy. The wall colors are a mix of burnt sienna and azure. Black and white photographs hang throughout with price plaques floating next to them; no doubt, Cecelia's attempt to help support local artists. Large bookshelves line the far walls, and oversized chairs are situated to create a reading nook. There's an internet bar and stools along the floor-to-ceiling rows of windows. Cozy booths and tables sit throughout the middle of the café designating the dining area.

Dominic would have loved it here.

It's the same thought I had when I entered her house yesterday. Guilt blinds me briefly as I try to switch gears when I spot her in the center of the bar pouring coffee, just as her eyes lift to mine.

It's an arrow straight through the burn, and the hole isn't small.

Fuck, I've missed her.

Breaking our stare-off, she paces the counter refilling drinks before stopping just in front of the man I take a chair next to. As I retrieve my new laptop from the box, she sets down a cup of coffee in front of me and a menu while I power it up.

"Thought you were on vacation," she mumbles before setting a check on the counter in front of the suit next to me.

"This is my vacation laptop," I assure her and open the menu, reading the selections.

"Right," she says dryly before walking off. Zeroing in on her, I sense I'm not alone in doing so and stiffen when I glance at the suit before following his line of sight. The plastic on the menu squeaks around my fingers as white fire thrums through me. He's got my attention. Decent looking, close to my age, and he's not here for the fucking coffee.

Mr. Fucking. Handsome.

I've never killed a man in cold blood or out of jealousy. Something tells me today should not be the day I get to check it off my list.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" I ask, plugging my laptop into one of the ready outlets beneath the counter.

"Am I that obvious? I've been here every day this week."

"That so?"

He nods before lifting his cup in salute. "Greg."

"Tobias."

"That a French accent? You sure are a long way from home."

Cecelia glances our way, eyes our exchange before her attention drifts back to me, lingers, and darts away.

"Actually, I'm right where I need to be. Just moved here." I turn to him in the hoodie and jeans I picked up from the discount superstore. I'm dressed like a fucking teenage boy due to slim options. Casanova is in a suit.

"There's something about her—" his smile deepens—"I feel like a creeper coming back like this, but she's..." I can hear the curiosity in his voice. Each word spoken might as well be lighter fluid he's dousing me with. "I'm going for it." Cecelia uses that moment to approach us and genuinely smiles at the motherfucker, before turning to me .

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving," I manage through clenched teeth. "Breakfast was shit."

Day one, Tobias. Day one. No dead bodies on day one.

She's completely clueless to the attention she's getting. Or is she? Her to-do list makes that theory shit, but she won't be fucking to-doing Greg. Not to-fucking-ever.

"Just let me know when you're ready."

"Cecelia," suit dick addresses, an over-confident smile on his face as he stands and pulls out a twenty to cover his check. Cheap fuck. Knowing what's coming, I see the panic in her eyes a millisecond before she schools her features. She's gotten a lot better at bluffing, but I'm the master of bullshit detection. She wants no part of Greg or the offer that's coming, but that doesn't lessen the urge to imprint the Apple logo of my newly purchased Mac into his skull.

"I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

Logged into a new email account, I click to compose while keeping my tone even. "The first time I saw her, she was eleven." They both turn to me, but I continue typing, not sparing a glance at either one of them. "She was nothing but a little girl, but she was mine to protect from this fucked-up world. Mine to look out for. Mine to care for."

"Tobias," Cecelia hisses in warning.

"She came in later like a fucking wrecking ball and obliterated the image of the little girl I remembered. I claimed her then as mine to have, mine to touch, mine to possess, fucking mine ."

Cecelia shuts her eyes, fisting her hands on the counter.

I lift my eyes to Greg, who looks like he's about to shit his silk boxers.

"And so, I would very much appreciate it if you would stop fucking looking at my future as if she may be yours . The answer is no, Greg, she won't be dining with you."

Greg nods. "I apologize, I really had no idea. She isn't wearing a ring. "

I tap the mousepad to open a new email. "Leave your address, and we'll send you a save the date ."

"Tobias, enough," Cecelia scolds. "Greg, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He lifts his tweed jacket, pussy , from the stool next to him and tosses his voice my way. "You're a lucky man, Tobias. See you around, Cecelia."

"Come back, Greg," she urges, her gaze lingering on him for ten fucking seconds too long as he makes his way out the door, whistling like a nutjob.

My laptop is slammed on my working hands before I'm face-to-face with violent dark blue waters.

That's right, baby, fight me.

"If you're going to go all caveman, you can leave . That's not going to fly here."

"Two things," I mumble, lifting the screen to type the last of my email. "I would like a club sandwich, fries, and your phone number."

"You are such a bastard."

" Your bastard ," I remind her, unlocking my phone and pushing it across the counter. "And he can order all the fucking eggs and coffee he wants here, but he doesn't get to look at you like that."

She stalks off through the double doors of the kitchen. Seconds later, a petite blonde with a head full of messy curls saunters toward me. It's then I know Cecelia's back there hiding.

"Has Cecelia got you?" she asks in a sickly-sweet voice.

"By the balls," I mutter, shooting off the email.

"Pardon?"

"I've ordered, thank you. But—" I lean over and engage her—"please make sure she's not back there with a box of rat poison." She laughs like it's hysterical and leans over, giving me an eyeful of cleavage that I opt out of.

"Now, why would she do a thing like that?"

"Ex-boyfriend." I wrinkle my nose. "She's not my biggest fan."

Her jaw slackens. " You're the bastard?"

"In the flesh. So, you know about me? "

Good.

She narrows her eyes. She knows enough.

Not good.

"Oh, I'll make sure we take really good care of you."

And I'm no longer eating here.

*

"You from out of town?"

Perched on the stool, I peck at the keyboard on my Mac next to my untouched club. The question was raised by an old-timer who's spent the majority of the time since his arrival scrutinizing me. Cecelia's been mostly avoiding me since our earlier exchange. When she realized I wasn't leaving, she had no choice but to resume her shift. She pauses her fifteenth wipe of the counter, her circles in three, no doubt just to fuck with me, in wait of my response.

"Just moved here," I reply over the top of my screen. Though much older than me, he's got near-perfect posture, a thick silver mane, and appears meticulously groomed. Ex-military.

"Moved from where?"

"Not far."

"What for?"

"I guess you could say I just switched careers."

"What were you doing?" the man asks, his tone a little louder than socially appropriate, no doubt due to some hearing loss.

"Lot of this and that. Mostly, I was in service."

Cecelia snorts.

"Military?" he yells across the bar. "Ah, I got you. I served in 'Nam. So, is this your first week back as a civilian?"

Cecelia watches me, and I smirk. "Exactly."

"Hard at first, but you'll get used to it. There are benefits to being a veteran."

Eyes rolling down her frame, she doesn't miss it. "I'm hoping that's the case." My cock springs to life as her lips part slightly, the small taste of her from this morning lingering on my tongue. "It's going to be an adjustment being a real citizen," I toss in for good measure. Getting her to both listen and believe my truths will be a new sport. Fingers itching to touch her, I resist and click out of a few screens.

"What brings you to this part of Virginia?"

"Something I can't live without," I admit easily and feel Cecelia tense just before the cook calls for pick up.

"You don't look the type for a small town."

"Actually, I was raised in a town just like this, about ten hours from here."

"Well, DC isn't far away if you ever need to scratch the itch for some city life."

"Thanks for the heads-up."

"Name's Billy."

"Nice to meet you, Billy. I'm Tobias, Cecelia's boyfriend."

Cecelia coughs, and Billy smiles, his teeth untarnished from age. A good majority of Cecelia's customers are wearing dentures. This isn't the type of hipster town with micro-breweries popping up from a population spike. In fact, it's probably one of the last American small towns that the rest of the US has forgotten about. And a damn good place to hide.

"You never mentioned a boyfriend," Billy says to Cecelia.

"I'm a best-kept secret," I interject, giving him a wink.

Billy rolls a toothpick across his lips. "Don't kid yourself, son, every man who frequents the place thinks he's her boyfriend." His grin amps up. "If I was thirty years younger—"

"Try forty, and Billy, don't finish that sentence," I warn, as Cecelia finally smiles and walks over to me. She lifts my sandwich and takes a large bite. It's an act of kindness, a rarity since I showed up, and my shoulders ease back a little.

She chews slowly, and our eyes meet and hold. She's in there, hiding, both the girl I met and the woman I love, as she was yesterday. Maybe her dream haze anger has passed. "Done with this?" she asks, snatching the plate just as I reach for the other half of the sandwich.

Maybe not .

"It's true, Billy. He's my old flame," Cecelia snarks in an indicative way that means trouble is coming. "He's here to try and win me back. But I'm thinking of passing."

Billy lifts his brows. "Well, what's wrong with him, other than the way he dresses?"

Billy–1, Tobias–0

She crosses her arms, lips lifting. "Quite a bit."

"Does he always dress like that? He could be in one of those rap videos in that getup."

Billy–2, Tobias–0

"It's just a part of his disguise. He's a professional liar."

Shit, here we go. And no doubt she's going to make this publicly painful.

Bring it, baby.

"That's never good," Billy says, sizing me up as Cecelia begins to tick off my crimes on her fingers. "He's a thief, a liar, and the first time he kissed me, he didn't ask permission, so definitely not a gentleman."

"Shame." Billy analyzes me with a crease between his brows. "You should always ask a woman's permission."

"And he betrayed me," Cecelia adds, and there's nothing humorous in her tone. I feel that blow so much I grunt through it.

You hurt, I hurt. Look at me.

But she doesn't, and it's all I can do to keep from jumping over the counter.

"You did all that?" Billy asks, his frown deep-set.

I nod. "I did."

"You're not even going to defend yourself?"

"No," I reply as she lifts her eyes to mine. "It's all true."

"Well, then, do you have one reason why she should take you back?" Marissa is standing a foot behind me, and I can feel the rest of the sparsely-filled café leaning in on bated breath.

Small fucking towns.

Cecelia collects a tub of dirty dishes when I finally speak up in a shitty defense. "I stopped lying yesterday." I barely get it out before she passes through the double doors.