Chapter Nine
Liz
“I admit, I haven’t been here before,” Paul said, looking around Le Chateau, which was undoubtedly the best French restaurant in San Francisco. The table cloths were a fine crimson color, and the room was lit by a chandelier and tiny candles on each of the tables. The waiters were either French or damn good at pretending to be, because they spoke with thick French accidents. “It always intimidated me.”
“Well, us small-town, Midwesterners are easily intimidated by these types of fancy establishments,” I said, adding a bit of a Midwest accent to my voice.
He looked at me in false surprise. “You sounded just like my mother.”
“Ha,” I said. “That wasn’t exactly the connection I was going for.”
We both laughed. He leaned forward and took my hand. “Thanks for inviting me out. I was worried that I’d screwed something up the other night.”
“Not at all,” I said, feeling a wash of guilt come over me. “I was just really distracted. More work stuff on my mind. It wasn’t you at all.”
He gave a little laugh. “That sounds like the ‘it isn’t you, it’s me’ talk.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said.
I’d brought him out to this place partly as a way to apologize for how awful I’d treated him. It hadn’t sat well with me that I was so hung up on Jamie that I was trying to force things to work with Paul. But what I needed was someone exactly like Paul. Someone intelligent, driven, with a good sense of humor, a great body. I refused to let Jamie dominate my thoughts or my emotions any more.
Full speed ahead on dating Paul, that was my new objective. I was completely committed to getting intimate with him and seeing a happily-ever-after in our future.
“You’re a great guy,” I said, voicing some of my thoughts.
“I feel the same about you,” he said, squeezing my hand gently before letting me go. “And you look absolutely beautiful tonight.”
I looked down at my dress. It was a simple burgundy sheath. Not something I’d usually choose, but I’d gotten it for a friend’s wedding a couple years back and felt like I should dress up tonight. Paul was in khaki slacks and a deep blue button-down shirt, looking pretty fantastic, himself. “Right back atcha,” I said with a smile.
Our appetizers arrived, escargot with a drizzle of some kind of buttery, garlicky sauce that made me want to moan in delight. Paul seemed to enjoy them just as much as I did. I asked him about the latest dive he’d gone on, and was enraptured by his description of seeing a shark.
“It was bigger than a boat.”
“Whoa,” I said, my jaw dropping. If my near-drowning accident wasn’t enough reason to stay away from the water, the idea of sharks bigger than boats was enough to keep me out on its own.
Someone laughed from the other side of the room, a low, happy laugh that sounded eerily familiar. With dread growing in my stomach, I casually looked past Paul and saw Jamie across the room.
Of all the places in San Francisco, he had to be at this exact restaurant? A woman sat across from him at a little table. It was hard to see details, but he looked happy, with his eyes crinkled in amusement.
From the small plates in front of them and the little cups that looked like they held coffee, it looked like they were just finishing dessert. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen him earlier, but I’d been so focused on Paul—or rather, I’d been focused on focusing on Paul.
The woman with him—it must have been Judith—was smiling up at him. It was a mischievous smile, one that promised sex.
Suddenly I wanted to vomit the snails I’d just eaten.
She was gorgeous. She had the kind of youthful face that would keep her looking like she was in her twenties even once she was well into her forties. Her dress was spectacular, although a little too bright and attention-seeking for my tastes. But from the way she looked at Jamie and smiled at whatever he was saying, I could tell she genuinely liked him. She looked like a nice woman, someone I’d be friends with…if it weren’t for the fact she was here with Jamie.
And they were playing footsie under the table. He would nudge her foot with his, and then she’d trail her toes up his leg.
I coughed, trying to keep down my bite of escargot.
“Liz?” Paul said. It sounded like he’d been trying to get my attention for a while. “Liz, you okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, making myself meet his gaze. “Sorry, just spaced out. You were saying about Hawaii?”
“I was saying that it’s a beautiful vacation spot, and there’s plenty of activities out of the water. And I was thinking how fun it would be to someday go with someone I really care about.” He cleared his throat and looked down at his appetizer plate. “Someone like you.”
A warm feeling of appreciation welled up inside of me. “Paul, that’s so sweet.”
The tips of his ears turned red. He was adorable.
He touched the edge of his salad fork, then spun it around a couple of times. “Uh, I was…I was thinking, maybe we could be in a committed relationship?”
At the same moment, Jamie’s date made a wide gesture at the restaurant around them, and he looked up. Any second now, his gaze would fall on me. I couldn’t handle it. My heart was beating too fast, my face felt like it was on fire, and I needed an escape.
“So, what do you say?” Paul asked.
I couldn’t bear for Jamie to see me not having a good time. I couldn’t bear for Paul to see me acting so strangely. Panicked, I leaned across the table and kissed Paul.
His response was surprised at first, but his rigid lips soon went soft, and he cupped my cheek in his hand. He tasted buttery and nice. I felt warmth, yes.
But no heat.
As we kissed, I realized he’d been asking me a question right before. Something about a committed relationship. Oh, shit. Would he take this kiss as an answer to his question?
I pulled away abruptly. Paul looked at me with wide eyes and a smile. “Wow,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to agree so…forcefully. But this is great! Maybe we should get some champagne, celebrate. I’m really looking forward to this next phase of our relationship.”
I needed to say something—this was a mistake. But saying it would hurt him more, and I was too embarrassed and guilty. My face was hot, my hands cold, and I gripped my napkin in my lap, rolling it around in a mess of fabric.