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“It’s amazing. Thank you,” I direct at the maître d’.
“Excellent. I will leave you both in Luc’s capable hands.”
A waiter—presumably Luc—hands me a huge menu with engraved, gold cursive writing.
It’s entirely in French, and I squint, trying to call up my rusty memory of the language.
Nothing—how embarrassing.
“Erm, I can’t read this.”
Bash looks up, no judgment on his face from my confession.
“I’m happy to translate for you, or I can recommend their best dishes?”
“I’m not picky. I like a good steak, where are those.”
He points to a section on the menu, and the words ‘filet mignon’ are the only familiar thing.
“Um, where are the prices?”
“You’ll never see them listed at a place like this.”
“Why—because they’re so exorbitant, it’ll ruin everyone’s appetite?”
Bash laughs. “Stop worrying about money. This is my date, my treat.”
My lips pucker, and I try to suck back the pout that starts to form there.
“It was my turn to treat you.”
“You treat me every time you let me be with you.”
Tears unexpectedly prick my eyes. “Gah, why are you such a sweetheart?”
“Only for you, Wyn,” he whispers, staring at me in earnest. “You know that, right?”
My heart lurches at what I think he’s trying to tell me.
That I’m special.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BASH
Bash
It’s difficult to concentrate on the menu when Wyn sits across me, a gorgeous angel without wings.
She grumbles as she scans the items as if glaring will turn the words to English.
“What else is there besides steak? Is this homard en croûte du sel tasty?”
“Eh, it’s not as delicious as your cum, but it’s still pretty good.”
Wyn chokes on her wine, torn between laughter and horror.
“Stop it! We’re in public.”
