And he did over and over, making me pant, making me crazy for him.

Then he’d finally handed over his keys to his Porsche and let me drive.

We left Vespucci’s and drove off into the sunset.

Which is now why, sitting here in the same restaurant a year later, I felt like the universe was slapping me in the face.

There was a flurry of activity at Cuba and Emma’s table as they got their coats on to leave. Good riddance. He helped Emma with her jacket, a cropped, brown furry thing that looked like mink. I wasn’t surprised. PETA wasn’t exactly widespread in Texas. I looked down at my own jacket, a plaid red and black piece I’d picked up at the consignment shop. Wooly and warm, no one had killed an animal to make it. Whatever. That didn’t mean I was better than her, but still…

Cuba rested his hands on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring pat, almost brotherly, yet not. She leaned into him for a moment, smiling at him, and well, it was the nicest I’d ever seen her face. My mouth parted as she reached up to kiss him, her petite frame curving into his protective one. Did it make me happy when he turned his cheek and her lips hit the corner of his mouth? Maybe.

Across Emma’s shoulder, our eyes met again. Feeling like an intruder on a tender moment, I glanced away.

A few seconds later, she breezed past me, her Jimmy Choo’s tapping lightly on the marble tile of the restaurant.

I waited for him to pass, but he stopped at my table. “Spider leave?” he asked, sliding into the booth.

“No,” I said in a surly tone, my entire body going stiff. I folded my napkin in tiny squares, not meeting his eyes.

“Where’s Emma?” I asked. Your baby mama?

“We rode separately,” he said, a wary look growing in his eyes. I knew that look. It meant he didn’t want to talk about her.

“What do you want from me, Cuba?”

He rearranged the bread basket, his hands fidgeting. “Why so hostile? Earlier in the week, you mentioned us getting together and talking? Would you still want to?” He seemed to hold his breath.

“There’s no point. We’re not pals. And I don’t think Emma would appreciate it.”

He gave me a sad smile. “I’m not in love with Emma.”

What did that mean?

Oh, yeah. He didn’t fall in love.

“Why do you think I care?” I said crossly.

“You care,” he replied, sounding beaten.

“Cared, past tense. I don’t anymore.”

“You don’t make a good liar,” he growled at me, eyes low.

“What do you want?” I bit out. Wishing he would go. But not. It was completely messed up.

He spoke then. Killing me.

“When we broke up last year, I went nuts. I’ve lost count of the number of girls I was with after you. It was awful and I—”

My face reddened. “Took that many to erase me? Why do you think I want all the details now?”

His jaw clenched. “I fucked them everywhere. In my house, at their house, in hotels, in clubs, outside, wherever I happened to be. It was a binge. Sometimes more than one at a time. But lately, something’s changed, and it’s like I’m waking up—” he stopped, rubbing his hand through his hair. He swallowed. “I can’t put words to it, but I’m sick of who I’ve become. And I’m sick of being a selfish coward. So you see, you’re lucky you got away from me. I’m fucked up, and I would only have hurt you in the end. More than I had already.”

“You make me sick,” I hissed.

A look of resignation hit his face. “Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

I tossed the napkin on the table, bitterness from the past rising up. “Then stop torturing me with your stories. I already know that you didn’t care about me, okay? There’s no point in rubbing it in.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Dovey, no. Please wait; let me explain. I don’t want to—”

“Is Emma pregnant?” I snapped out, closing my eyes briefly at the sharp slice of pain those words caused.

Silence descended on us, the air crackling with tension. He bit his lip and looked way, twisting his class ring around and around. Finally he faced me, his face hard, his shoulders tense. “She is. And she needs me, and maybe I need this.”

“Just. Please. Go,” I begged, his words killing me inside.

He tensed up. “Dovey, listen to me. I can’t explain everything right now, but you mean something to me, and I—”

“She told you to go. So, get the bloody hell out of my seat, Hollywood,” Spider bit out. He’d come around the corner and had been standing there for a while, obviously hearing most of our convo.

Cuba focused on me, ignoring Spider. “Whatever you think of me…in the past…I made mistakes, but I’m trying to make up for it with Emma—”

“Get out of my seat,” Spider bellowed, his entire body drawn up.

The entire restaurant hushed, and the waitress scurried over with refills to make sure we were okay.

“Spider, it’s fine. He’s leaving,” I assured him.

Cuba exhaled heavily and rose, looming over Spider’s smaller six feet. His mouth tightened as he gazed down at him. “Grow up, Spider, and put a leash on that temper of yours. Especially if you’re going to be with Dovey. She deserves better.”

And then he turned and walked out the door.

Spider cursed and sat down. He slapped his cell on the table. “If I’d known he was going to harass you…”