George stopped at the door to speak to the waiter but I carried on walking, straight to a table inside, furthest from the window, furthest from Damian. George took hurried steps to catch up to me as I almost reached our table. He grabs at the closest chair, pulling it out for me in haste. If I wasn’t already feeling awkward I’d probably laugh at his goofy and comically clumsy attempt at being a chivalrous gentleman. As I sat down on the expensive black oak dining chair with its soft upholstered seat, he helped me by pushing it closer to the table so that I was comfortable. If it weren’t for our terrible past or the fact that I couldn’t escape the handsome Alpha on the other side of the small restaurant, I would probably find George to be charming.
“I’m sorry for this morning,” he said in
