We’re led through without delay, past low-lit tables and quiet conversations, the kind of space that doesn’t need to prove what it is.Vanessa doesn’t comment on it.She just takes it in.
Which tells me more than anything she could have said.
They seat us at a table tucked just enough away from the rest of the room to feel private and contained, even if it’s not completely.I pull out her chair and she sits without hesitation.The host leaves us with a menu and a promise that our server will be with us momentarily.
He approaches within seconds, water poured, specials explained, the rhythm of the room moving around us without interruption.I don’t look at the menu.I don’t need to.
“You already know what you’re having,” her gaze flicking over the page before settling back on me.
“I do.”
“I remember that too.”
“Do you?”I steeple my fingers under my chin, my gaze locking with hers.
“I remember a lot of things, Hayden.”
There’s no weight behind it, no accusation, but it lands anyway.The server returns, and I order for both of us with minimal hesitation, selecting a bottle of wine I know will suit her without asking.
Her brow lifts slightly once the server steps away.“Still making decisions for me.”
“You never minded when I got it right.”One corner of my mouth quirking up.
Her eyes sparkle with the tiniest hint of mischief.“Confidence looks good on you.”
“Hopefully one of my finer attributes.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Is it?”
Her fingers trace lightly along the stem of her glass.“So, you have questions?”
“I do.”It’s the reason we’re here.
“Of course you do.”It’s subtle, but a small chuff escapes from her.
I place my elbows on the table and lean forward.“I’m trying to understand something.”
She takes a small sip of water, setting the glass down with care before meeting my gaze again.“Tell me what you need me to explain.”
I watch her for a moment, measuring what she’s offering, what she’s not.“The Gild.”
She takes another sip of water, slower this time.“What about it?”
“It doesn’t fit.”
Her mouth purses into a tight line for just a second, then relaxes.“That’s not my problem.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Good.”A pause.“Because I’m not interested in fitting into something that no longer applies.”
The waiter arrives with our wine, halting our conversation as he pours with quiet precision.I take a sip, nod, my approval resulting in both our glasses being filled.He leaves and I watch as Vanessa lifts her glass to take a slow sip.I’m not sure if she’s giving herself space to think or maybe just choosing not to rush, but I wait for her to speak.
“You don’t like not having answers.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
