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“My treat,” I tell her.
Collins shakes her head. “This isn’t a business meeting, Kit. Or a date. I want to pay for my own food, so can we please eat someplace that won’t max out my monthly food allowance on one meal?” She exhales. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I swear. I just—I don’t want to feel like a charity case either. This situation is complicated enough.”
Acharity case? I’ve spentyearsbegging for a shred of Collins’s attention.
I’m the one who’s always felt inferior and desperate. I wanted one thing from her—her—and Collins wanted nothing from me.
“Me wanting to eat at my favorite steak house has nothing to do with charity, Collins. I chose this restaurant because I’d skippedlunch to sit at your desk and suggested we get dinner tonight, so I’m starving.”
Her eyes widen at the impulsive confession.
“I have money. A lot of it. One dinner isn’t going to dent my net worth. And I know that’s not the reality for most people. That it’s not your reality. But it’smyreality. So … live in my world? Just for one night?”
I know Collins is proud. It’s one of the reasons I was so taken aback by her choice to come work for me. But this is more than overcoming her stubbornness. I want to offer something. I want to take care of her. I want her toletme take care of her.
“Fine,” she says.
I relax. “Thank?—”
“I’ll eat later,” she finishes.
I scowl. For fuck’s sake. I’m not going to order and eat a meal while she sits there, staring at an empty plate.
I blow out a long breath that makes my stomach grumble. It feels like we’ve been standing out here, arguing, for hours. And we haven’t even touched the entire reason we’re here.
I decide to broach it now.
“You know why I’ve been trying to talk to you all day, right?”
She hesitates, then nods stiffly.
“You’re pregnant with my baby, Monty. What you eat, they eat. By buying you dinner, I’m essentially feeding my kid. You’re seriously going to tell me I can’t do that?”
Collins says nothing, her expression impassive.
I sigh, then pull my phone out of my pocket to call Camden. “Fine. Where do you want to go?”
She sighs, too, then strides toward the door with a muttered, “Thefood here had better be the best damn meal I’ve ever had.”
I release a relieved exhale before hurrying after her. When Collinswantsto move, she’s fast. She made all-state in cross-country in high school. I have to jog a few steps to reach the door ahead of her and hold it open.
Surprise crosses her face before she mutters a, “Thanks.”
Did her asshole of an ex seriously decide cheating was acceptableandnot open doors for her?
A smartly dressed maître d’ is ready behind the stand. He smiles when he sees me. “Kit! How are you?”
I smile back. “Good, thanks. Do you have a table for us?”
“Of course, of course.”
I glance at Collins, who’s fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist as she studies the wall display of lit wine bottles.
“Somewhere private, please?” I request.
Collins continues playing with her jewelry. She’s nervous, I think.
That makes two of us.