Page 41 of How to Break My Heart

But I’ll be damned if I walk away now and allow another man to touch her.

And that, in itself, is the part I don’t understand.

Why the fuck do I care so much?

CHAPTER 12Eva

There were only two options.

Option one—sit and pretend Aston doesn’t exist.

Option two—set the record straight and send him on his merry way.

This was adate.

What I didn’t expect was for Marco to invite him to dinner, or for Aston to look so… I don’t know, jealous? I mean,why would he be jealous? He loathes me and has made his feelings abundantly clear.

The moment Aston walks away, Marco glances at me, cocking his head with curiosity. This time, I try to smile naturally—not forcefully like I have been since Aston gate-crashed our dinner. Anger and nerves get the better of me, so I take a long sip of my drink and let the margarita work its magic. I breathe a huge sigh of relief, then focus back on Marco.

“I was picking up on some tension between you two,” he begins, then continues with a sudden change in demeanor, “I thought you were just planning a wedding.”

“We are. Well, I am. Aston is not very cooperative. He drives me insane. All I need him to do is sit down, concentrate, and not act like a jerk. That’s too hard for him apparently.”

Marco nods quietly. “You are beautiful. I don’t blame him.”

“For acting like a jerk? What do my looks have to do with it?”

“Well, for starters… men have this thing when trying to deny their feelings. They act a certain way.”

I shake my head. “Aston has always been like this. He looks at me like his little sister’s annoying best friend.”

“But, you’re not so little anymore—”

“Look, I’d rather not waste my breath talking about him. I’m starving, shall we eat?”

The rest of the dinner is enjoyable. If there’s one thing the chef does well, it’s the soft tacos with slow-cooked brisket. I polish off three plus another two margaritas, and things start feeling slightly blurry by the night’s end.

Marco leans in, placing his hand on mine. “I enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too.” I grin.

“I would love to invite you back to my place for a drink, but unfortunately, I have an early appointment in the morning.” He raises his hands with a mischievous grin. “I promise, I am not making that up.”

“Are you sure?” I tease.

He leans in again, this time closer so our lips are almost touching. I press my thighs together, unsure if it’s the proximity or the margarita making me dizzy. His hand rests on my knee, the light caresses teasing me beneath the table.

“I promise, Eva, I want to spend the night with you. But work—”

“I get it,” I reassure him. “You’re saving lives. There will be a next time.”

Marco takes care of the bill even though I offer my share, and as we step outside to say goodbye, a few families loiter near us. The kids run around in the cold, making loud noises while Marco stands closer with his hands holding on to my arms.

“I’ll call you,” he says softly, the warmth of his breath lingering between us. “Tomorrow?”

I punch him playfully. “You better, Dr. Wilde.”

And though I know our first kiss would have been perfect, the screaming kids are not. One falls over and sounds like they’re dying, so Marco kindly offers to look at the boo-boo.