Wendy's POV.

My fingers traced the thick rim of the wine glass while I waited for him in the same grand restaurant I have always wanted to go.

I knew he would want an explanation. Or maybe just something to let him know he's in his right senses.

And he is, but I'm not.

As my focus drifted , I let George linger in my mind – his touch, his warmth…everything.

A sharp knock on the table pulled me from my thoughts.

George appeared with a wide smile but I maintained a straight face.

He looked dejected at that instance and of course, I beat myself up for it.

“Why...