Chapter 31
Evangeline
The place has a smoky, jazzy feel to it with its subdued lighting and its heavy wooden furniture. The red vinyl booths are high, offering lots of privacy, and the brick walls create a veritable fortress around us.
There's no way to deny it – we're hiding out.
I swept my hair up into a classy chignon and swiped on a layer of deep red lipstick tonight. Raphael put on dress pants and a suit coat over his pale gray button-up. We got into his rented sports car and drove twenty miles northwest of Reyfield to Copper Heights, a quaint little town where no one ever goes. This tiny old Italian restaurant is called Gallo’s. It’s family-owned. A hole in the wall.
Despite all that, I feel a nervous twinge in my stomach anytime someone stares at me too hard and I see the way Raphael's eyes dart around each time the front door opens. We're both on edge, guilty as fuck about betraying my parents' trust but too caught up in this web of lust to stop.
The waitress comes by and takes our order. She’s a chatty brunette a little older than I am with almond-shaped eyes and perky breasts. Her nametag reads “Sophia”. With a wide grin, she jots everything down then leaves with the menus.
Raph pulls in a deep breath and reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. He gives me a tender smile. "Date night..."
I smile back, feeling a little flutter in my heart. "Date night..." I tuck my lips in as sadness fills my chest. Raph picks up on it immediately.
"Something's bothering you, Kitten. What is it?"
I don't want to be the whiny, clingy chick who finds a way to ruin a perfectly romantic evening with my complaints so make a banal comment about the music being too loud. He doesn't buy it. I'm a fool for thinking he would in the first place. He's so wise. He reads me so well.
Maybe it's just a trait of being old-as-fuck. Or maybe the man knows me. He gets me.
His fingers skim my chin, tilting my face up so that I’m looking at him. “Talk to me, Eva. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Sighing heavily, I push my hair away from my face. “I just wish that things were different…”
“Different how?” he presses calmly.
I shake my head. “Don’t get me wrong. What we have is good. The sex is good. Great! And being around you – I love being around you.” I cringe as I say this, “I just…I wish we didn’t have to hide…”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to respond. Waiting for him to scold me, to remind me that we’ve talked about this already, that we agreed that it’s best for all involved if we keep this away from my parents. Instead, his eyes soften. He laces his fingers through mine again. “I’ve been thinking – maybe we should tell your parents about us.” My head spins at his words. He leans across the table, his gray eyes pinning me in place. “Eva, the way I feel about you – it’s real and it’s not going away.”
Oh my…Oh…This is getting serious…This is everything I wanted. And now that he’s set it out on the table right in front of me, I’m so giddy, so afraid, so excited.
My voice comes out as a squeak. “You’re ready to talk to my parents?”
He chuckles at my reaction. It’s a deep, warm laugh that rolls over me like a balm, soothing my niggling insecurities. “Well, maybe not right this minute. But in a few days. Sooner is better than later. So that we have control of it, so that they don’t find out the wrong way…So that we can be out in the open.”
My heart thumps out of control. I’m scared but I’m also trippy with excitement. “My dad’s gonna freak,” I mutter.
Raph nods solemnly. “I expect that. I’m ready for it.”
His calm reassures me. It centers me. Maybe it is time to grab the bull – er, my dad – by his horns and just deal with it instead of cowering away.
“Okay,” I say in a strong tone.
“Okay?” One corner of his lip jerks up and I just want to lick it.
My head bobs enthusiastically with renewed certainty. “Okay.”
“Good.” He breathes out calmly now that we’ve laid the situation to rest. He looks comfortable in the silence that blankets the table.
I run my tongue over my lips. “There’s one more thing.”
His finger trails across the dark wood of the table as he watches me. “What is it?”
“The money in my bank account, Raph. I can’t keep it. I don’t want it.”
His shoulders rise roughly as he breathes in. “Eva, that money is yours.”
“No. I don’t want it,” I tell him. “It makes me feel dirty.”
“There’s nothing dirty about it,” he argues. “It’s just money. You can use it to do anything you want. You can use it to start over.”
“I want a fresh start. I don’t want constant reminders of all the mistakes I’ve made.”
He leaves his seat and rounds the table, sliding into the booth next to me. “Eva, I know that the auction is a painful memory. Sometimes, I’d rather forget it, too. But the truth is that it’s what brought us together and for that reason alone, I’d never want to change it.”
I consider his words for a while and the steel in my spine softens. “You’re right,” I say finally, “I wouldn’t want to change it, either.”
“Good.” He edges closer and presses his mouth to mine. I reach up and cradle his cheek. I love the way his bristly stubble bruises my fingertips and how his lips taste of a hint of whiskey, ginger and lime. I love the way his tongue brushes against mine and he groans into the kiss. I love everything about right now.
Just over my shoulder, I hear someone clear their throat. Our lips separate and my head turns to meet the dark eyes of our waitress. Sophia. She smiles to hide the sharpness of her judgment but I still see it there, lingering on the fringes of her expression.
Sigh.
Being scrutinized for our age difference sucks really bad. People assume that Raph is in it for the fresh pussy and I’m in it for his deep pockets. They can’t bring themselves to believe that we really just like each other. But I can get used to the judgment. I have to.
Because there’s no way I’m giving him up.