Page 70 of Renegade Rift
She laughs, and I watch as the tension in her shoulders melts away.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going on this date?” she asks, slipping her hand in mine.
“Not a chance, but I can promise you’re going to love it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JULIET
I still don’t know how he managed to get a reservation, but it’s absolutely everything I dreamed it would be.
The hanging vines from the ceiling make the room feel like it’s tucked beneath a willow tree. Paired with the twinkling lights that look like fireflies and the tables covered in green linens to give the impression of a lily pad on top of the blue carpeted floor, this room looks less Michelin star restaurant and more like something straight out of a fairy tale. The kind where the animals come to life and talk to a princess.
And the best part is that it’s not just a restaurant. It’s an experience. Off the restaurant there’s a very Alice in Wonderland-esque hidden passageway, leading to a bar even more exclusive than the restaurant. It’s immersive and otherworldly. Or at least that’s what all the reviews have said.
Ford must have pulled every string he has to get us a table. Of course, every time I ask how he tells me in due time it will make sense.
I let him have his secrets. Dining at Midnight & Luster has been a dream of mine since I found out Tyler was being traded to New York. There’s over a year wait, and even if I had managed to get us a reservation, Tyler would’ve complained the entire time that the portions at restaurants like this are never big enough for the cost.
But he had no problem spending money on bets. Something less tangible than the food on my plate.
No.
I push the thought from my mind. The last thing I want to think about is Tyler.
Tonight is about me.
Ford says I need to learn to trust myself and find the courage to ask for the things I want. Whether that’s asking for someone to kiss me or telling them to fuck off—his words. Either way it’s my decision to make, and I hold the power.
It’s a sentiment I haven’t fully grasped. The thing is, I’m not sure I can handle the spontaneity of it. When it comes to matters outside the heart, I’m able to make snap decisions. But when it comes to love, I’m no longer able to trust my choices.
I mean I’m essentially having my dead husband’s stepbrother teach me to date. The more I think about it, the crazier it sounds. But also, it somehow feels like the right choice.
I trust Ford. And he’s made it easy. Beyond that little pep talk on the way to the restaurant, he’s been the perfect gentleman and allowed me to set the pace.
Red or white wine with dinner—always red. Even if white would be ideal for the meal outlined on the menu.
Do I want to sit under the tree or with a view of the city—obviously under the tree.
Would you like to sit next to me in the booth, or across from me—this one I had to consciously make the choice to be brave. If it was a real date, with someone I loved, I’d want to be next to him so we could hold hands.
Not that Ford has made any kind of move to do so.
What surprises me, though, is I want him to.
Maybe there is some happy medium where I get to make some choices, but others are left to his discretion.
To help me learn of course.
I glance over at where he’s sitting beside me, working his way through the seafood course. His navy suit is tailored perfectly to fit him given the way it dips and moves intimately with his body. Paired with hair that’s sculpted in a sexy sort of tousle and an unfettered smile, and I really have to wonder why he’s out with me and doesn’t have a girlfriend of his own.
He catches me staring out of the corner of his eye and cocks a brow. “Is the fish okay?
“The scallop you mean?” I laugh, correcting him
“Scallopsarea fish.” His lips lift in a smirk letting me know he’s messing with me.
I roll with it. “And you call yourself a Californian?”
