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I feel out of place. The people seated around me are very put together in their finest attire. Nevertheless, I feel confident in what I have on.
I ignore the curious looks I get that tell me I don’t fit in. It’s the story of my life.
I strut behind him, my shades still on even though it’s night time — it’s like armour.
When Alistair comes into view, I suck in a breath when I see his attire; a smart suit jacket with a white button up and jeans. My mouth instantly waters.
His beard is neatly trimmed and he looks hot as fuck. As far as hot ex-stepfathers go, that is.
The Maître d’ goes to pull out my chair, but Alistair beats him to it.
“Good evening, Charlize,” he says. Alistair has one of those British accents that sounds regal and authoritative. He went to bloody Eaton and boy does it show.
“Hello again, Alistair.” The word Daddy is on my tongue again, but I definitely don’t want to make him mad until after I’ve eaten. I’ve studied the menu here and they have lobster thermidor and crème brûlée. I plan on indulging like Mr. Devereaux wouldn’t believe it tonight, so I hope he brought his chequebook with him.
He takes in my attire as he takes his seat and I smile pleasantly at him. “I see you’ve taken up residence in my Dior?” I clearly didn’t dress to make him admire me, but I’m glad I got his attention.
“It’s comfy.” I shrug. “Figured you wouldn’t mind me taking it out for dinner just this once.”
A smirk permeates his perfect lips. “I guess not.”
I grab the menu to avoid looking at him. I already know what I’m having, but I study it like I’ve never found anything so fascinating.
Movement catches my eye, and before I know it, a waiter in a fancy uniform is filling up my champagne flute.
“Thanks,” I mutter as they move to fill up Alistair’s.
He waits until they’ve moved away before his eyes meet mine. “A toast?”
I lift my glass. It won’t be the cheap shit, I’m sure. Still, I’m dying to have a sip.
“To old times?” I tilt my head. I know I’m taunting him and I’m unsure how much he’ll tolerate, but part of my therapy as a young adult involved why I antagonise people so much.
The only outcome I had for my therapist was this; I enjoyed it. It gave me the attention I so badly craved, and negative attention is still attention, after all.
“I was thinking more like: to new beginnings.”
My eyes narrow as his glass clinks mine and he waits for me to take the first sip. I do so. Relishing in the cool, crisp flavour. It’s delicious and has a hint of vanilla, or something.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I blurt out, unable to hold it in any longer.
We really need to get this show on the road.
“I think it’s good that we clear the air. In order for us both to move on, I think it’s necessary.”
“You mean, for you to move on?”
His eyes meet mine and I hold in my shudder. This man is impenetrable, that much is certain.
He has a cold exterior like no man I’ve ever met. Like he holds all his cards close to his chest and the chance of anyone getting close, are slim to none. He’s always been an anomaly, but he’s even more serious than I remember.
Broody Alistair isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve no idea what lurks behind those grey eyes.
“I think I need to explain a few things. I sensed a little… hostility the other night.” He glances around as if someone may overhear us. We’re in the back, near the window and it’s secluded. Something about his table choice tells me all I need to know.
He’s embarrassed to be seen with me.
“You think?”
