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That’s all that matters to me.
39
Claire
This restaurant is seriously expensive, I know it even without asking. The servers all wear black slacks and white button up shirts with bow ties. The lighting is dim, candles on each table, and chandeliers hang from the ceiling, for heaven’s sake.
The hostess leads us into a private room with a round table in the center. We take the seats across from each other, and a waiter brings us glasses and fills them with water. I’m still a bit shaken up from nearly getting run over, but I try not to focus on that.
“So, what’s my surprise?” I ask impatiently when the server leaves.
Before Lucca can answer, the door opens again. The hostess appears with two people following behind.
“Claire,” my mom calls, basically shoving the hostess out of the way to get to me.
I jump up from my seat just in time for my mom to wrap her arms around me. She pulls me into her embrace with a strength I didn’t even know she had.
“I missed you, baby.” She hiccups into my good ear.
“I missed you too…” I trail off with the word Mom on the tip of my tongue. I’ve been calling her Mom inside my head for a long time, but I’ve never actually said aloud. I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to say it now. She has been more of a mom to me than my biological mom ever was.
Still, something holds me back. Like a small voice in the back of my head telling me not to do it. I know it’s stupid, but part of me thinks that once I call them Mom and Dad, they won’t want me anymore, just like my actual parents never wanted me.
“Now, let me get a quick hug in before you smother the girl,” my dad’s deep voice fills my ears. My mom lets go of me, but her expression tells me she is not happy about it. She sits, and my dad wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a bear hug. He places a kiss on the top of my head and pulls away enough for me to look at his face.
“Don’t you take off like that again. We were so worried about you,” he tells me, his voice filled with emotion and his eyes watery. I’ve never seen him like this, and knowing I caused him to be this sad has guilt gnawing on my conscience.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize wholeheartedly, realizing how selfish I was not to tell them I was leaving. I just couldn’t risk them going to Lucca.
“It’s okay. It’s in the past. We’re just so happy to have you back. Let’s enjoy dinner.” My dad squeezes my arms one last time, and we both take our seats.
The waiter comes in a moment later, taking our drink order and reading us the daily special while I look at him dumbfounded.
What the hell is Foie Gras and Escargot?
Lucca must be a mind reader because as soon as the waiter leaves, he explains, “Foie Gras is duck liver and Escargots are snails.”
Ewe. I won’t be eating that.
I refrain from gagging, but Lucca still laughs. “Don’t worry, they have normal foods like steak, chicken, and lobster.”
“I’ll have the chicken then.”
“Why don’t you let Lucca order for you. He’ll order something you like,” my mom coos.
“He might need to order for all of us,” my dad chimes in with a chuckle. “I have no idea what half of this stuff is.”
“Everything is pretty good here. This is my boss’s favorite place. We used to get stuff delivered from here all the time.”
I take in the conversation between Lucca and my parents, and a pit forms in my stomach. There is a familiarity to the way they talk like they have known each other for a long time, which is a harsh reminder of the fact that they do.
They’ve known each other for years, probably talked weekly if not daily. They just did all of it behind my back. Of course, I already knew this, but having it rubbed into my face has another tidal wave of betrayal pulling me below water. That and the constant reminder of the letter I found in Lucca’s kitchen.
The guilt I felt only minutes ago transforms into anger. I was right not to tell them where I was going because they would have told him. They were always on his side and never on mine.
My mom taps my arm, getting my attention. “Do you like the house Lucca bought for you guys?”
Of course, she knows about the house. I bet the only thing she doesn’t know about is the other woman he loves.
“It’s alright, I guess.” I shrug, annoyed by the way my mom talks about Lucca.
“What’s wrong?” Lucca asks, covering his hand with mine.
