I nodded. "Yes, but my focus has mostly been on learning their wines."
"Are any of them on this list?"
I scanned the list and found a red from the vineyard I was very close to signing as a client. I pointed to it. "But red doesn't go with fish, does it?"
"We’ll get a white and a red. We’re staying in, so it doesn't matter if we get a little sloshed."
I laughed. "It's not like we can get into any more trouble than we already have from drinking too much."
His lips twitched upward slightly at the joke but then faltered. I kicked myself for reminding the both of us why we were here.
"How about dessert?" I said to get us off the topic of our drunken marriage and upcoming annulment.
He turned to a page with a long list of desserts. "What's your fancy?"
"How about that molten lava cake? I love gooey, sticky chocolate."
He looked at me again, and this time, I saw fire in his eyes. "You like sticky, huh?"
This time, the fire was inside me, blazing through my bloodstream. "I do. I like it with a lot of whipped cream, too."
"Well, then. I’d better order some."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I got the feeling he wanted to say something. Finally, he gave a quick smile and stood to go order the food. When he walked away, I realized that I hoped he was about to tell me that he wanted to continue a relationship with me. Oh, sure, we would still have to go through with the annulment. But that didn't mean we had to end. He hadn’t said anything. I kicked myself for not being able to manage this crazy yearning.
By the time our meal arrived, the sun was just finishing its ascent and the lights of Las Vegas were coming on.
He glanced out the window as the city lit up. "I guess you’re used to all this, aren't you?"
I put my napkin in my lap. "I guess I am. Surely, they have lights in New York City."
"Not like this. It sort of makes me think of Christmas."
I looked out the window at the view. All I saw were blinking lights shoutingcome lose your money here. Orcome watch our dancing girls here.
"Do you like Christmas?" I asked.
He turned his attention to me, his expression turning into a boyish grin. "Absolutely. I love the lights. I love the music. I love the scents. I love the snow—"
"And the presents?"
He laughed. "Those are nice too, but Christmas has always been special with my family."
Max made it sound like his family was like a Norman Rockwell painting during the holidays.
He tilted his head to the side. "I take it that Christmas isn't the same for you."
I shrugged, flaking off a piece of my salmon. "I like it just fine if it's just me and my brother, James." I sighed, not sure I should say any more and at the same time feeling compelled to make him understand. "I don't think my father has a single cell that contains empathy, generosity, or any of the things that go along with family and the holidays. He's all about him, and if you're not careful, anything you say or do will be used against you if it suits him."
Max reached across the table, putting his hand over mine. I turned it over, and he laced his fingers with mine. My heart skipped a beat, and the longing rushed through me again. There was something here. Something between me and Max. More and more, even though I knew it was fruitless, I wanted it to keep going.
"I'm sorry that your father's like that. You deserve more. Better."
I smiled at him. "Thank you, Max. I think that too, but sometimes, it's nice to hear other people think so too. Sometimes, people are judged by their family, you know?"
"I suppose I have it the opposite of you. My family has a good reputation, and so people naturally assume I'm going to be like them. I try to be, but I'm not sure I've achieved the level of openness and generosity that my parents have."
"I think you're selling yourself short."