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“The menu’s not too crazy,” I say. “This isn’t the kind of place where they’re going to feed you sea urchin foam on top of a single pine nut or some shit like that. If you don’t know what you want we’ll just order it all.”
She’s got her glass of water at her lips, and she coughs loudly as some of the drink goes down the wrong tube.
“All of it? The whole menu?”
“Yup.”
Before she can argue with me, I’ve already signalled the maître d’ and told him to prepare the entire menu for our table. I tell him to bring wine, too, and to keep Deirdre’s glass filled. My kidney’s healing up, but I decide to forgo the booze tonight, figuring I’d better not push my luck if I want to make it down that aisle in two weeks with no issues. Plus, I drove us here, and I’m not about to get plastered and get behind the wheel with such precious fucking cargo.
My ribs are doing better lately, too, but they still give the occasional twinge. Same with my fractured hand.
Soon enough, the food starts coming, plate after plate of appetizers and entrees that make Deirdre’s eyes just about bug out of her head. There are individually seared scallops with garlic mascarpone drizzle, slices of raw steak served with a rosemary balsamic glaze, fall-off-the-bone braised lamb shank, freshly hand-shaped pasta with pear and gorgonzola cream sauce, bowls of lobster bisque, and pristine little salads with jewel-coloured vegetables and fruits.
Every time Deirdre tries something new, she says, “Oh my God, that’s my favourite thing.” Then she tries something else and says, “No, wait, that’s my favourite thing!”
It’s fucking adorable. I barely eat, I’m so focused on watching her take her cute little bites.
She drinks her wine too, barely noticing the maître d’ who comes to replenish it whenever it gets low. Throughout the meal her cheeks get more and more pink, her voice and gestures more animated than usual. I don’t know if it’s the wine or the present I got her or what, but she seems to be opening up to me more. Chatting away like a bird chirping on a branch. She tells me all about the wedding stuff she’s worked on with Valentina, and what’s going on at school.
“I have to go to a live music performance,” she tells me before popping a bite of the lamb into her mouth. Her eyes flutter closed and she moans quietly, making my dick twitch in my pants. I stare at her mouth as she slowly chews and swallows. Most of her lipstick is gone now, leaving behind a ferociously erotic stain of colour that makes me want to lick her lips.
Or bite them.
“What kind of performance?” I ask her, trying to focus on what she’s saying instead of getting distracted remembering what it was like having those lips wrapped around my cock.
“Any kind of live music performance. I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
“Did it not occur to you that I could help you with that?”
She blinks slowly at me.
“Really? I didn’t think I’d be allowed.”
“I let you out for a nice dinner tonight, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes. I guess so…” She takes a big swig of wine.
“Now that Darragh’s not pissing bullets all over this city trying to mark his territory, you’ll have a little bit more freedom, so long as I or one of my men is chaperoning you,” I tell her. “We can probably even get the music performance sorted out tonight.”
“Really? Why, where would we go tonight?”
“I have a place.”
“Alright. That works. I wondered if I’d have to use our wedding for the project, in case there was a live band there.” Her liveliness fades slightly. “I can’t believe Willow won’t be there.”
“Willow Callahan?”
“Yeah,” she says dully.
“I saw her that day at Darragh’s.”
She instantly straightens in her chair.
“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands, her eyes-overbright.
“Well, I was a little busy trying not to die of sepsis,” I remind her until she looks down at her plate, chastened. “I overheard her papà telling her that he’s sending her to stay with family in Ireland.”
“You’re kidding!” she breathes. “Wow. I knew she had an aunt over there, but I never thought she’d actually have to go there.” She tugs at a stray curl, looking pensive and sad at the same time. “I haven’t heard from her much since my birthday. Her dad took away her phone. She was able to send me a couple of emails, but it’s been total radio silence lately. I wonder if she’s already gone…”
