The server returns to the table with our drinks, making an elaborate show of popping the cork on the bottle of Veuve Clicquot before pouring us each a glass. I didn’t want any champagne, but when Susanna lifts her glass toward me in a toast, I grab mine and clink our glasses together.
“To new friends,” she says, smiling prettily.
“New friends,” I agree, downing most of the champagne in one swallow, making a face when I’m done. The alcohol fizzes in my throat, and I know I’m going to burp something good in a few minutes. Beer does that to me too.
Of course, I shouldn’t burp at all in front of Lady Sus. I need to watch myself.
We order our meals—steak for me, trout for her—and make idle chitchat while we nibble on our appetizer, some sort of meat and cheese tray Susanna highly recommended, as did the waiter.
I’m just along for the ride on this dinner date tonight. The menu was in English and I still had a hard time reading it. The way they described the entrees was sort of confusing. I drink both the champagne and the beer, and the server brings me another one when I request it. Before our meals even arrive, I’m feeling nice and toasty.
Okay, maybe I’m buzzing, but so is Susanna. I can tell by her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkle extra bright. Her voice is getting louder too, and when I tell her a joke right after the server delivers our entrees, she bursts into laughter so loud, people turn to stare at us.
“Uh oh. I’m getting a little out of control,” she singsongs, giggling as she grabs her fork and knife and starts carving into her trout. Which has the head still on it, I might add.
I glance down at my steak, eternally thankful no sad cow face is staring up at me. “I kind of like it when you get a little out of control,” I tell her, cutting off a slice of steak and popping it into my mouth.
Damn. The meat is so tender, it practically melts in my mouth.
She goes completely still. “Really? You actually like me this way?”
I nod and keep eating, my stomach demanding more.
“Even though I’m being loud and obnoxious?” When I don’t say anything, she continues, “Those are my parents’ least favorite traits in a person. When they’re loud and obnoxious.”
“Everyone acts like that at least once in their life,” I say after I swallow. Some more than others. I’ve been known to behave that way a time or two.
Or twenty.
“No.” She’s shaking her head. “Not my parents. They are the epitome of well-behaved nobility. They are completely unruffled at all times. Nothing bothers them. They don’t drink too much, eat too much, or talk too much. In fact, those are their rules.”
“Their rules?” Every parent has rules, I get that. I was raised by a single mama, and she just wanted the best for me.
Just do your best, was always something she said. And stay out of trouble.
That’s it. And guess what? I did my damn best, and I tried as much as possible to stay out of trouble—except for those years in high school when I was causing as much trouble as possible and never getting caught.
But I learned from that. Trouble gets you nowhere. Doing right is what sets you on the upward path.
Susanna nods enthusiastically. “When I was younger, I wanted to be just like them.”
“And you don’t want to be like them now?”
“I don’t think I could be like them now,” she admits, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. I stare at that lip, momentarily entranced. The little move is sexy, I can’t deny it. “I’d most likely fail. I’m afraid I’m not up to their exacting standards.”
I set my silverware on the edge of the white plate, my appetite satisfied for the moment. “You want me to be honest with you?”
She nods once more, her eyes still so wide, her lips formed into a pout. The candlelight flickers across her face, casting her in shadows, and I’m seized with the need to grab hold of her and kiss her senseless. “Absolutely,” she breathes.
“Here’s a little secret.” I lean across the table and she mimics my movement, meeting me halfway. “Your parents aren’t perfect.”
Susanna blinks at me, but doesn’t say a word.
“No one is perfect,” I continue. “Not your parents, not me, not you. We all have flaws. And the only one who believes you can’t do something is…you.”
I brace myself for her to say I insulted her the longer she remains silent. A lot of people don’t want to hear this kind of stuff. They think I’m being rude, too harsh, whatever.
I’m just being real.