“Bianca,” he scolds lightly, but she ignores him.
“Don’t hate me . . .”
“Yeah, that’s impossible.”
“You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”
“Did you, I don’t know, murder someone on your way over here?”
“Xavier . . .”
“Then it’s impossible. So, what’s up?”
“My mom called me and I was just rambling a little bit and I told her you’d passed your defense today, and now we’re invited out to dinner to celebrate with my whole family.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not really a celebration kind of guy.”
He is, in fact, the opposite of a celebration kind of guy. Being the center of attention is not his thing, at all. Celebrating other people? No problem. He was thrilled when Bianca invited him to her post-defense party. And not just because it had given him an excuse to see her again, but because he genuinely wanted to congratulate her on the accomplishment. Celebrating himself though? Hard pass.
“I figured,” she admits, “but . . . I think it’s more of an excuse. They want to get to know you. I just . . . couldn’t think of a reason to say no.”
“So we’re gonna celebratemydissertation, but not yours,” he says, suddenly way angrier at her parents than he thought possible. They seemed nice enough the other night, but how hard is it to just support your daughter for the brilliant scholar she is?
She looks down, eyes sort of sad and her shoulders sagging in what looks like defeat, and he never wants her to feel like that, like she doesn’t have any other choice, so he gives in, immediately.
“So, then we’ll go.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“There’s no one else you want to invite?”
He knew when he got to Los Angeles that this was temporary, just like every other place he’s ever lived, so he didn’t reallymake friends – at least not the kind that he’d call right now for something like this.
“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t really have anyone here to celebrate with, except you, obviously, so . . . this isokay.”
“Xavier!”
“I’m not sorry!”
She laughs again and something loosens in his chest. She’s okay and they’re . . . somehow . . . okay, so he’s gonna take that as a win.
“So, where are we headed, boss?” he asks, settling into the driver’s seat of his car, her in the passenger seat beside him as he tries not to think too hard about how softly she’d smiled at him when he held the car door open for her.
“My dad’s cousin owns a restaurant in Hollywood. Greek food, obviously.”
He hands her his phone so she can put it into his maps. “Greek food to celebrate before I go off to Greece? Feels like the right fit to me. Your family is pretty into your heritage, huh?”
“Yeah, well, my parents immigrated as kids, so we’re not that far removed.”
“Same, actually.”
“Really?”
