Rather than return his smile, I glanced around, scanning the restaurant. The early Sunday afternoon crowd was a bit sparse. Not surprising, though. I’d seen the prices on the menu when Rick ordered for us. Probably hard to afford a weekly brunch here.
Pointing at my plate with his fork, he said, “The roasted potatoes have truffle oil and a garlic aioli drizzle. Try those before they get cold.”
I did, and they were absolutely fantastic. I ate and sipped at my Bloody Mary while Rick continued with his meal. It went on like that in silence for several minutes, until he hummed and put his fork down.
“I almost forgot,” he said, taking a long jewelry box out of his pocket.
My eyes widened. “What is that?”
Rick shrugged. “I saw this is in a jewelry store in Montreal, and it made me think of you. I decided then and there you had to have it.”
He handed the box to me, and its solid, heavy weight surprised me. A gift out of nowhere? It made me feel a little uncomfortable, like I was a freeloader mooching off Rick’s money. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t asked for a present.
“I hope you like it,” he added.
I smiled as I opened the box. Inside was a solid gold tennis bracelet with small inlaid diamonds.
“Oh, Rick. Wow,” I whispered. This must have cost a fortune.
“You love it, don’t you? I can tell you love it,” he said, his bright green eyes glittering.
It was lovely.Andexpensive. And though he said it looked like my style, I wasn’t really the gold type. Besides, it was sort of gaudy. The silver jewelry I typically wore, including the delicate medallion that hung from a thin silver chain around my neck, made it clear Rick didn’t know my tastes as well as he thought.
Still, I was grateful for the gesture. Forcing a smile, I put the bracelet on.
“It’s amazing,” I lied, extending my hand.
The heavy bracelet clinked loudly against the porcelain plate, and I winced. Rick chuckled and went back to his food. I picked up my fork and frowned down at my plate. The food, which had been delicious a moment before, now nauseated me. A gurgle in my stomach made me put my fork down. The intermittent nausea had been plaguing me for days. I’d stopped by a clinic for antibiotics, assuming I’d caught a bug or something. I was on day two of a ten-day cycle, and so far it wasn’t working. If it didn’t stop soon, I’d have to go get checked for gluten intolerance or something. Although, it was probably stress-related. It had begun the morning after the attack, which made me lean towards it being psychological. Probably anxiety-induced.
Wonderful. Something else to worry about. Apart from the attack, I had many other stressors. I pushed myself hard at work and more so at home, taking care of my family and budgeting so we could cover the bills. It might be good to ease back a bit once I got fully settled with my career and life in general.
Our server, a college-aged woman, approached the table and smiled. “How is everything?”
“Fine. Thank you,” Rick said without looking up.
“Can I get you two anything else right now?”
Rick kept his eyes down as he cut into his omelet. “We’re all good.”
The server glanced at me, a bit uncomfortably. I smiled at her and nodded. “It’s fantastic, thank you so much.”
With a grin, she left. If Rick realized he’d been dismissive of the girl, he didn’t show it. Too engrossed in his food, I supposed. When Rick did look up, I had my hand pressed to my stomach and a wince of discomfort on my face.
“Are you okay?” He pointed at my plate with his fork. “You haven’t eaten much.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful for the nice meal, nor did I want to talk about my upset stomach. “Uh, I had a huge bowl of oatmeal this morning, and I’m still a little full. This place is amazing, though, and the food is really good. I’ll take the leftovers home for dinner.”
Rick’s face fell at my words. He stared at my plate, then shook his head and said, “Why did you have a big breakfast? You knew we were coming out for brunch today.”
He looked crestfallen, maybe a bit offended. Great, I couldn’t win. The look on his face pissed me off a little bit, too. Like a little kid who hadn’t gotten what he wanted.
It was a silly thing to think. All I could do now was try to get his mind on something else. Maybe it would help my nausea, too. My headache was returning as well. A change of topic might help.
“How was your work trip?” I asked.
Rick’s downhearted expression changed, a smile forming on his lips. “It was great. We met with the partners of that firm in Montreal that specializes in tech lawsuits. Remember I told you about them a few weeks ago?”
I had no clue what he was talking about. If he’d said something about it, the information had fled my mind withinminutes. That, or when he’d droned on and on about things I didn’t understand, I’d zoned out.
