Under no circumstances did Tate want to meet Kim in a private room. On the other hand, he didn't want the world to overhear the conversation they were about to have. He compromised by agreeing to meet Kim at the coffee shop down the street. It was late. The shop was empty except for one tired clerk running a mop over the tile floors. That was enough. If something happened, he had a witness.
Kim was waiting for him at a table on the far side of the tiny shop. Kim cupped a steaming mug between his hands. Across from him, another mug and a slice of pie awaited Tate. Just the thought of eating something from Kim soured Tate's stomach.
It took everything in him to subdue the rage and, if he had to be honest, the pain of betrayal within him and sit across from his form assistant. As outrageous as Kim's behavior had been, Tate knew he had it in him to be equally as violent. Sitting was counterintuitive to the whole need to bitch slap Kimmy into tears.
