Our plates are removed, replaced with another one.
The chef says, “The second course is anamuse-bouche, a course to amuse the mouth, if you will. You will find salmon and crème fraiche on your plates.”
I take a bite. Holy cow, this is good. Even Jafar makes a sound of approval.
“I think I could make myself sick eating this,” I say.
Dru snorts. “I don’t think there’s enough salmon in the Atlantic to fill you up. What did mother used to say?” She snaps her fingers. “That you reminded her of a cow in more ways than one.”
She laughs, though everyone else is too polite to follow suit. My eyes water, and I reach for my wine glass, finishing it. The sun is setting, and the airisgetting cooler. I wonder if I can claim that I’m cold and say I need a jacket and then just not come back? It’s sounding like an excellent plan.
Jafar leans over and says in a low tone, “Don’t even think about leaving.”
Goosebumps rise on my skin at his command. Part of me wants to leave just to piss him off. The other side knows he would follow, and I don’t want to deal with the repercussions of that. So I stay. But I don’t take another bite of the salmon, even though it was delicious.
Our plates are taken away, and they bring soup out.
The chef says, “This is a cool pumpkin sage bisque. You will find it complements the salmon very well.”
Lifting my spoon, I take a small bite. It’s always a shock when a soup isn’t warm, but the chef is right. It complements the last course.
Jasmine says, “We’ll all have to come back in the summer, when the sun is out longer. I’m freezing.”
Dru is the first one to agree. I don’t say anything because chances are I won’t be here. In fact, I find it harder and harder to find reasons to come back to New York each time I leave. Maybe it’s like taking off a band-aid. I’ve tried to do it the gentle way, but maybe now I should just rip it off and face the truth? The thought doesn’t make me as sad as it should, and that says a lot.
I barely notice when our bowls are removed, replaced with a small plate.
The chef says, “Your fourth course is a small cut of medium-rare veal with charred broccoli.”
Right away, Jasmine pushes the plate away. “I’m not eating this unless it’s well-done.”
Dru says, “Me too.”
The chef looks annoyed, but has their plates removed so their veal can be cooked more. Everyone else cuts into their meat. I’ve always liked my meat on the pink side, and now is no exception. The veal is so tender that it practically dissolves on my tongue. Behind me, the waves crash onto the beach as the tide comes in. And it’s dark enough that lanterns are brought out by the staff and placed in the surrounding sand.
Al catches my gaze and says, “This is romantic. The perfect spot for a first date.”
“Is this a date? I wasn’t aware.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, Jasmine and Jafar are together. And then there’s Dru and Rich. It makes sense that you and I should pair up.”
I lift my glass in his direction. “Here’s to first dates, then.”
I can feel Jafar’s gaze searing into me, but I ignore him. Al is right. It makes sense for the two of us to pair up. Heck, that’s why Jasmine arranged the rooms the way she did. Maybe while I’m ripping band-aids off, I should rip off the one where I have a crush on Jafar, too. Live a little in the moment with Al and see where things go. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?
Salads are brought out next with a sour vinaigrette that makes my jaw ache. The sixth course is trout in the same vinaigrette, so I only take a small bite just so I don’t offend the chef.
Jasmine moans. “I’m so full. How many courses are there?”
The chef answers, “Twelve in total.”
“There’s no way I can make it.” She turns to Dru. “Want to go inside and get in the hot tub?”
“Yeah.” Dru glances at me. “Don’t worry, Ellie, you can stay and eat. We all know you’re hungry.”
Jafar says, “Dru, shut the hell up.”
She flushes and follows Jasmine.