When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark #2) (14 page)

He chooses not to mock me for what I said—like I might him in this situation—and instead, reaches for my hand.

We arrive at the restaurant soon after, and I marvel at the niceness of it. I’ve never been here before, and I wasn’t lying when I said I’d be happy with McDonald’s but something tells me this is going to be much better.

Xander pulls up to the front and hops out, handing his key to the valet before turning to grab my door and help me out.

A restaurant with a valet? This place is even snazzier than I originally believed.

Xander guides me inside and straight to the hostess.

“Reservation for Kincaid,” he tells her.

She looks at us questioningly, probably noting our young age, before her gaze drops to the list. “Ah, here you are.” She turns sharply on her heel and expects us to follow.

My heels clack against the black marble floor and my eyes keep roaming over the white walls and chrome fixtures. It looks like something out of a Bond movie. 

The restaurant is large, with many seating areas that are somehow designed so they seem relatively private, and the kitchen is viewable to the eating area through a thick glass wall.

She leads us to a table near the kitchen in a prime spot to watch all the action.

Xander pulls out my chair for me and I mumble a thank you. 

“Enjoy your meal,” she says, handing us our menus. 

I take the menu from her and open it up, nearly falling out of my chair at the prices. “Xander,” I hiss. “I’m going to have to sell a kidney to be able to afford this meal.”

He chuckles. “Nah, I got it. Don’t worry.” And then he
winks
, fucking winks at me like it’s no big deal, which I guess to him it’s not. But I still don’t want him spending his hard-earned money on a meal this expensive.

“Xander—” I start.

“Thea,” he says my name the same way I said his. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures me. “I want us to enjoy tonight and not worry about the little things.”

I press my lips together and say no more. A waiter comes and we both order water and Xander also requests a bottle of wine. I’m surprised when the waiter doesn’t card either of us—Xander’s legal, but I’m not—but I choose not to say anything.

By the time the waiter returns, I’ve picked out a pasta meal that I can’t even pronounce and definitely can’t spell, but it sounds good so that’s what matters. 

“Have you all decided?” he asks us, motioning to our menus sitting on the other side of the table.

I nod and point to what I want—no way am I butchering the Italian name for the pasta, and Xander orders a steak.

When the waiter leaves, I reach for my wine glass and hope Xander doesn’t notice the slight shake to my hand. I don’t know why I’m nervous. This is
Xander
—a guy I’ve known my whole life, and the last two weeks have been great, but this right here makes what we’re doing real. This isn’t us sneaking around the house behind our friends’ backs, or secretive glances exchanged at the office, this is us out in the open exposing ourselves as a real couple. We’re not
hiding
and that makes me nervous. I mean, I doubt anyone we know would see us here anyway, but it still feels slightly dangerous. 

Xander toys with the napkin in his lap, and I wonder if he’s as nervous as I am. 

I sip a big gulp of wine and nearly choke. 

That’s enough wine for now
, I think to myself and set the glass on the table.

Xander sips at his own glass, sets it down, and taps his fingers on the table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Just when I can’t take the awkward silence between us anymore, he blurts, “I have to tell you something.”

My heart momentarily stops with fear at what he might be about to say. Illogical thoughts run through my mind.

He’s changed his mind and wants the divorce right now and he brought me to this nice restaurant to soften the blow.

He has a secret love child.

He hates cheese.

“I got drafted for the Broncos.”

Wait? What?
“Yeah,” I say hesitantly. “I already know.” His eyes widen in surprise. I think he was expecting me to scream and throw my wine at him or something. “
That’s
what you wanted to tell me?” I ask for clarification and he nods.

“How did you know?” he asks.

I snort. “Xander, I’m a football-obsessed freak. Did you seriously think you could get drafted to our hometown team and I wouldn’t know? Man, you don’t give me enough credit.” I take a sip of my wine.

“But,” he starts hesitantly. “You never said anything.”

I shrug. “Neither did you,” I counter. “I figured it had something to do with Cade so I kept my mouth shut.”

“So, he doesn’t know?” Xander asks.

“I mean, I guess he doesn’t. I don’t think he’s paid attention to anything football related since before the season ended. I always felt like football was more of an obligation for him than a passion.” I cross my fingers together. “So, that being said, why didn’t you think you could tell
me?
”

He sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair, his jaw ticking. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. For a while it didn’t seem real, and then I felt like I was letting everyone down for pursuing football as my career.”

“But it’s what you love,” I counter. “You’re letting yourself down if you don’t pursue it.”

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very wise?”

“No, but I’m glad you think so.” I raise my glass to my lips and take a small sip.

“So,” he says hesitantly, flicking his dark hair from his eyes with a swish of his head, “you’re not mad at me?”

“Well, I think you’re an idiot for keeping this a secret from everyone, but no, I’m not mad. We all have our secrets,” I whisper, thinking of Cade and my father. “Have you told your parents? Who all knows?”

“Well,” he says with a swoosh of his hand, “you’re the only person I’ve told, but you already knew, so now I’m wondering how many other people know.”

“You should tell your parents,” I tell him. “Stop leading your dad on. I know he’s thrilled you’re supposedly following in his footsteps, but he’ll also be thrilled for you to follow your dreams. Don’t forget that.”

He smiles at me and reaches across the table for my hand. “I’ll tell them soon,” he promises. “Will you go with me?”

“Sure,” I say. Xander’s family is practically mine.

“Mom’s been begging all of us to get together for a family dinner—you and Cade included.”

I fight a smile. “Does that mean you’re inviting Cade to this dinner to tell him too?”

Xander lets go and sits back, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I suppose. Might as well tell everyone."

Before he can say any more, our meal is brought out. My stomach rumbles at the scent of my pasta meal, and I try not to act like a savage as I dig in, but I’m
starving
. 

Apparently, thinking you’re pregnant burns a lot of calories because I feel like I haven’t eaten anything all day.

We’re quiet for a few minutes as we eat and then he laughs, laying down his fork. “I seriously can’t believe you knew and didn’t say anything.”

“Hey.” I raise my hands in surrender. “Don’t be mad at me, you’re the one that kept it a secret, I was just following your lead.”

He shakes his head. “I feel so stupid for not telling you sooner.”

I shrug and take another bite of my pasta. “It was stupid,” I agree. “But I guess you felt like that’s what was best for you at the time. Now tell me, how’s practice been? Is it brutal? Can I watch? There’s nothing quite like a bunch of sweaty guys piling on top of each other in those tight pants.” I make a grabbing motion with my hands. 

Xander chokes on a bite of food and beats at his chest with a closed fist. “Thea,” he says my name in shock. 

“What?” I shrug innocently. “I love the game, but you can’t blame me for wanting to look at their butts. I mean, those pants … yes. Just yes.” He gives me a funny look and I raise my hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, I always look at your butt the most.”

He snorts. “I have to say, you never cease to surprise me.”

“Good.” I grin. “It keeps things interesting.”

“That’s for sure,” he agrees and takes a sip of his wine. I finish mine and ask for a water instead of having another glass of wine.

Xander moves the conversation away from butts—such a shame—and I listen intently as he answers my previous questions. He tells me about his practices and how grueling they are, especially with him pulling double duty and still working for his dad. My chest tightens with sympathy. It’s had to be hard juggling all of this. I don’t know why he’s put himself through it. I guess most of us will sacrifice ourselves to please the ones we love. It’s ingrained in our DNA to lessen the burden from others.

“As for you coming to a practice?” He pauses, leaving me at the edge of my seat. “I’ll see what I can do.” And then he winks.

I let out a groan. “You can’t leave me hanging like that. That’s like dangling a piece of chocolate in front of my face and expecting me not to bite.”

Laughter shines in his dark eyes. “I have to okay it with my coach. Sorry.” He tries to look innocent, but he’s far from it. 

“Mhm,” I hum, finishing the last of my pasta. “I’m sure you’re
real
sorry.”

We finish our meal and skip dessert. Xander pays and I balk at the price. But it was a nice meal and I enjoyed myself so I don’t comment. As we leave, he reaches for my hand and I find my body drawn to his side like we’re magnets.

We wait for his truck and I tilt my head toward the sky. The sun has just set and there’s
still
a smidge of color left in the sky, making it look more like a royal purple than inky blackness. 

Xander’s truck is pulled to the front and I find myself wishing it was the motorcycle even though there’s no way I could safely get on it in this dress. 

“I wasn’t kidding about getting Prue some treats,” I tell him. “She looked so sad when we left.”

He chuckles. “There’s a pet store down the street. We’ll stop there.”

It doesn’t take us long to reach the store and we pick up a few items—including one really large bone that I know she’ll have a field day with.

Back in the car, Xander grins at me. “I do believe I owe you a celebratory McFlurry.”

“Mmm.” I lick my lips, and his eyes zero in on my tongue. “That sounds good.”

He clears his throat and puts the truck in gear. “Good,” he says, his voice slightly raspy. It’s like he’s seconds away from losing the control he’s trying so hard to maintain. Even though it’s dangerous for us, I secretly love that it doesn’t take much on my part to unravel him. 

He pulls into the McDonald’s drive-thru a few minutes later and I bounce in my seat because I’m about to get a McFlurry, and who doesn’t love those? He orders an Oreo one for me and an M&M one for himself.

“Are McFlurrys on the NFL practice diet?” I wag my brows. “Are you breaking the rules with me?”

He chuckles. “I burn enough calories to eat a McFlurry if I want to.” He sits up and grabs his wallet from his back pocket.

“I can pay—” I reach for my wallet and he gives me a death glare. 

“No,” he says sternly. “I’m buying it.”

I shrug. “I’d normally argue with you because I’m like that, but I did think I was pregnant with your giant spawn today so you kind of owe me.” I sit back in the seat while he hands over a ten-dollar bill to the cashier.

He shakes his head. “Giant spawn?”

I wave my hands at him. “Have you not looked in a mirror? You’re like six-foot-five and built like a tank. Your child would break my vagina.”

The cashier squeaks and throws the money at Xander. Apparently, she doesn’t like the word vagina.

Xander shakes his head again, his laughter filling the car. “I’m six-foot-three.”

I guffaw. “Oh, big whoop, like that makes such a difference. And I can’t believe I mention the breaking of my vagina and you focus on your height.”

“Well, my height is factual and our child is fictional.” He grabs our McFlurrys and hands me mine before driving over to an empty space and parking his truck.

“Bleh,” I gag. “Just hearing you say
our child
makes my ovaries shrivel up and die.” I pull the spoon out and lick the ice cream and Oreo goodness from it. 

He frowns. “Don’t diss our fictional baby. He has feelings.”

“What if our fictional baby is a girl?”

“What if it’s a squirrel?” he counters.

I gasp and flick my ice cream at him, and it lands on the side of his face. “Our fictional baby isn’t a
squirrel
.”

His eyes widen. “Did you
flick
ice cream at my face?”

I smile sheepishly. “Sorry—heat of the moment and all that jazz.”

He’s not listening to my weak excuse, though. Instead, he slings ice cream at me and it lands in my hair. I look down at the blob of ice cream and lone blue M&M then back up at him.

“Oh, it’s on.”

And then we’re slinging ice cream at each other. Our laughter fills the air and ice cream goes everywhere, but for the moment, we don’t care about the mess, because the joy is in the now and the rest can wait until later. 

Sticky ice cream sticks to my skin and I should probably be cringing at that fact, but I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun than I am right now so it doesn’t matter. Xander’s just as much of a mess as me, with ice cream stuck in his hair, dirtying his clothes, and even some stuck in the scruff on his cheeks. We run out of ice cream and our cups fall to the floor. The only sound in the space of the truck is our breathing and we stare at each other as the temperature rises. 

I think I move first, leaning my body over the center console and wrapping my hands around his neck, drawing him close to me.

I press my lips to his and he groans low in his throat. His hand finds my waist and he tries to get as close to me as possible. My hands move to his face and stick slightly from the drying ice cream. He angles my head back, sweeping his tongue into my mouth. My whole body ignites with desire and he pulls me onto his lap. The space is cramped, but neither of us seems to notice.

His fingers press into my hips with enough pressure that I won’t be surprised to find bruises in those spots in the morning.