"Did they ever ask if you wanted it?"
"No," he says with a laugh. "They knew better than to do that."
"Because your dad wouldn't approve of it."
"Exactly." His lips rise to a smile. "You're starting to understand my family. And me, surprisingly."
"Why is that a surprise?"
"People don't usually get me. They just assume they know me based on what I do or how I look."
"I don't understand."
"Guy in a nice suit. Drives a nice car. Works for an investment firm. People think I'm just another rich asshole out to get as much as he can."
"I'm sure they don't think that."
His brows rise. "That's not what you thought when you met me?"
"Maybe at first but..."
"See? That's what I mean. People make assumptions. We all do it."
"But I don't think that about you now."
He leans back in his chair. "What changed your mind?"
"Getting to know you. Finding out why you do what you do. I understand you better now. I get that you're not just doing your job to get rich. You're doing it to save a piece of history. Save buildings that people attach memories to, like you did with your grandparents' inn."
He slowly smiles. "That's amazing."
"What?"
"No one's ever put that together before, not even my own parents."
"Really?" I shrug. "Seems pretty obvious after hearing how much you loved that place. Is it too late for you to get it back? Would the owners be open to selling it?"
"It's too late. The people who bought it ended up tearing it down."
I gasp. "That's horrible. Why would they buy it and then tear it down?"
"They didn't want to spend money on the repairs. Honestly, I don't think they ever intended to keep it. I think they bought it for the land. It was up on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. The new owners turned it into a seafood restaurant. It's actually really popular. People come from all over to go there, not just for the food but the view."
"Have you been there?"
"Only once. We went as a family after my grandfather died. He was buried not too far from there, and after the funeral, we went to the restaurant. Being there was hard on me so I left. I waited in the car until they were done." He shakes his head. "Sometimes I wish I'd left college to help them with the inn. If I had, it'd still be there. I'd probably be running the place."
"Would you rather be doing that than what you're doing now?"
He looks down at the table, rubbing his hand along his jaw. "I would."
"You hesitated. Why?"
His eyes rise to mine. "I've never admitted that to anyone but my best friend, and that was only because I was drunk. I wouldn't dare tell anyone else. They'd say I'm crazy, and that I'm better off being a rising star at an investment firm than out in the middle of nowhere running an inn." He laughs a little. "I should have dinner with strangers more often. I've never been able to be this honest."
"We're still strangers?" I say in a flirtatious tone, although I didn't mean for it to come out that way.
"We are," he casually says.
"Why do you say that?"
"I still don't know much about you. All I know is you're a girl from Kansas who came to the big city to see if she could make it. To prove to the people back home that she could do it. To prove to herself she could do it."
I stare at him, shocked that he knows that about me after just meeting me. I've never told anyone that, not even Macie. She might suspect that's why I moved but she's never called me on it. She goes along with my story about wanting to fulfill my dream of living in New York, and it was a dream, but it was based on the motivation to prove something, to myself and to others. To prove that I could do this. That I could move far away from my comfort zone and survive in one of the toughest cities in the world. If I can do that, I can do anything.
"I went there for a job." I look down at the napkin in my lap, smoothing the crisp white linen. "Not to prove something."
"Liar."
His response causes my anger to spike, like he lit a match, setting off all my insecurities, things I didn't want him, or anyone else, to know.
My eyes shoot up to his. "I'm not lying, and I'm offended by your comment. I went there for a job and because I've always wanted to live in New York. You don't even know me. You shouldn't be making assumptions about me."
"Hey, I'm sorry, okay?" he says, holding his hands up. "I didn't mean to upset you. You're right. I shouldn't have assumed."
I set my napkin on the table and get up. "I'm going up to my room. I have a lot of work to catch up on."
"Wait—you're leaving?" He shoves his chair out and gets up.
"On the house," Tom says, appearing at our table holding a bottle of wine, a big smile on his face. He looks between Aiden and me. "Don't tell me you're leaving." His smile drops, making me feel terrible.
"Of course not," I say, smiling at him as I sit down.
"We were just stretching our legs," Aiden says. "After all that sitting in the car on the way here we needed to get up and move a little."
I almost laugh at his excuse, but instead I clear my throat and put my napkin back on my lap.
"You should take a walk after dinner," Tom says. "The shops closed at five but you can stroll downtown and look in the windows. Each store puts up little twinkle lights." He pours wine in a glass and sets it in front of
