Chapter Twenty-Eight

Calee

“I've never had wine before,” I say.

“Well, there's a first time for everything then,” Eric replies. “Just – take it easy. If you've never had alcohol before, it can hit you kind of hard.”

“I promise.”

The waitress gives me a strange look but pours a small amount of wine into my glass. Then, she turns and pours for Eric. She's a gorgeous girl and I can't help but be envious of her amazing body. Next to her, with my hips, curves, and full breasts, I suddenly feel like a pig. It's a terrible, petty thought and I feel my cheeks flush.

“It's nice to see you again, Dr. Galloway,” the waitress says. “I'll have your appetizers out in a moment.”

“Thank you, Lacy.”

“You know the people who work here?” I ask.

He nods. “I've been coming here for quite a while,” I say. “My parents used to bring me here when I was younger, actually. Something of a family tradition.”

I see a look of fond nostalgia cross his face and he points to a table over in the corner that's currently occupied by a man and a woman who are staring into each other's eyes, a look of absolutely rapturous love on their faces. As I watch them, I see him kiss her hand and the smile that crosses her face is one of utter bliss and contentment.

And I find myself wondering if I'm ever going to feel anything remotely like that in my life.

“We sat at that table the night my father and his partner founded their company,” he says. “We had dinner to celebrate them opening the doors.”

“What does your father's company do?”

“Technology,” he replies. “A lot of research and development. They do a lot in both the medical field, and unfortunately, they do a lot in a lot of defense weapons systems.”

I laugh softly. “Defense weapons systems?”

“Missiles,” he says. “Smart bombs. The technology of death, I call it. The company scores huge government contracts to dream up better, more efficient ways of killing people.”

“Medical and weapons,” I say. “Those sound like two opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Tell me about it,” he says. “It was always a bone of contention between us. Anyway, let's drink.”

He raises his glass and I stare at him for a moment before realizing I should raise mine as well. I pick it up and hold it like he is – and can't help but feel clumsy and awkward. I feel like a fish out of water. Eric can navigate the waters of normal people – normal rich people at that – with a practiced ease. Of course, he grew up in this sort of society and I didn't.

And as I look at the faces of the people around me, I suddenly don't know if I'll ever feel comfortable operating in normal society.

“To new beginnings,” he says.

Just from books I've read, I know that I'm expected to repeat his toast then then clink my glass against his, so that's what I do. And of course, I hit his glass a little too hard. It makes a loud ringing sound and the glasses are so delicate, I fear I've broken them. Eric laughs softly, but his smile is sincere and not unkind.

“We'll work on that,” he says.

I take a sip of my wine and grimace at first. But the second sip is better. And the third sip is better than that. Soon, the smooth, buttery flavor of the wine – a chardonnay, he called it – is the most amazing thing I've ever tasted.

As I sip my wine, I take a quick glance around, I can't help but feel exposed. Like everybody in that restaurant knows I'm an imposter. Just some poor, uneducated girl taken off a cult compound and dropped into a fancy dress. I've never felt so out of place before in my life and I feel like people are staring at me. Judging me. And just for a moment, I find myself wanting to be back in the small cabin I shared with Ruth. I feel a longing for the comfort of those rough, wooden walls, and the feel of that hard, lumpy mattress beneath me.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and give him a weak nod. “I'm just feeling like I don't belong in here,” I admit. “Like I'm out of place.”

He holds my gaze and then takes my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You're not out of place,” he says. “This is your home. You belong here. And you let me know if anybody says otherwise, okay?”

I nod and feel a knot of emotion constricting inside of me. I don't know what it is I'm feeling, so I stuff it down. I'll try to unravel that knot later. For now, I want to try to enjoy my first glass of wine. My first experience in a fancy restaurant. I want to savor every moment of this night.

The waitress comes back and sets a plate down between us. She gives me a look like a sneer and then turns to Eric, her face brightening immediately. I have no idea why she would have given me such a dirty look and I sit back, my feelings a little hurt, feeling even more out of place than before.

“Shrimp scampi and stuffed mushrooms,” she says. “Enjoy these and I'll put in the order for your main courses, Dr. Galloway.”

“Thank you, Lacy,” he says. “Also, I would appreciate it if you apologized to Calee. I appreciate your outstanding service, as always. But I don't know why you felt the need to give her such a nasty look. She is my guest tonight and I will not tolerate that sort of behavior.”

“Excuse me?” the waitress asks, her mouth hanging open.

He gives her a long, hard look. “Do I need to speak with Dominic about this?”

A look of fear crosses the woman's face as she slowly turns to me and clears her throat.

“I apologize for my behavior,” she says slowly. “It was uncalled for and I was out of line.”

“Thank you, Lacy.” Eric says.

The woman's face is a bright shade of red and she gives Eric another look, her expression one of absolute heartbreak. She lowers her eyes and leaves the table without another word.

“I'm sorry for her behavior,” Eric says and takes a sip of his wine. “You didn't deserve that.”

The emotions swirling around within me are so fast and violent, they feel like a tornado. I can't keep up with them, let alone organize them into any sort of coherent thought. Nobody has ever stood up for me before like that. Nobody has ever defended me. Ever. And even though I knew the woman didn't mean a single word of her apology, the fact that Eric made her say the words means more to me than I can even say.

“Thank –”

Eric holds up his hand again to cut me off. “She was out of line,” he says. “You don't need to thank me for making her do the right thing.”

“I think she has a crush on you,” I say.

“That's unfortunate for her,” he replies. “I'd never date somebody so petty and rude.”

There's a moment of silence between us – mostly because I don't know what to say. Everything is all so new to me and I feel like some primitive cave person stepping out into the world for the first time.

“This smells wonderful,” I say, pointing at the plate. “What is it?”

The mood immediately seems to lighten as Eric puts some of the appetizer onto my plate. Setting it down in front of me, he points at the mushrooms.

“Those are stuffed with crab, cheese, and done in a light wine sauce,” he says. “And the other, the shrimp scampi, is amazing. The best in San Diego. You're going to love it.”

I pick up my fork and use it to cut one of the mushrooms in half. Spearing it with the tines, I pop it into my mouth and revel in the explosion of flavor in my mouth. I've never had anything so different and so amazing. I chew slowly, savoring every moment of it.

“Good, right?” Eric says.

“That might be the best thing I've ever eaten,” I say.

He laughs. “Well, pace yourself,” he says. “There's a lot more food to come.”

“If it's half as good as this mushroom, I might just die.”

He picks up his glass and looks at me over the rim, something sparkling in his eyes. There's a curious look on his face and one I can't quite interpret.

“I certainly hope not,” he says. “There's a lot more I want to share with you.”

As I look at him in the soft glow of the candles on the table, I feel my heart swell. And I realize that there is a lot more I want to share with him too.