Chapter 11

I was surprised when he texted and wanted to meet.

"Why do you want to talk to us here?" I asked him.

"To be quiet," he answered simply.

"Maybe it's quiet at the bar," I told him sarcastically.

"You're still grumpy," he said.

I just looked at him and sat in front of him.

I poured wine into the glass in front of me.

"I thought you didn't care?" he asked.

I didn't answer him and just sipped the wine I poured.

"So, you're rich?" he asked again.

"What now? Is that enough reason for you to leave me?" I asked boldly.

I also have the strength to tell him because I've had enough wine.

"Why didn't you tell me? Do I really not know you, or am I just pretending to know you?" he asked sharply.

He did not answer my question.

"Why you? You pretended to be poor to be accepted at my boutique for what?" I answered his question.

"Who said I'm rich?" he answered with raised eyebrows.

Why are we two arguing? Why is it that if we talk, nothing comes together? Why is the answer to every question we ask eac