“Oh, I think I do. I’ve heard rumors.”
He settles in the curved back of his chair. “You have? You know…”
“Yes, I know your dad cheated on your mom. I know he’s been accused of sexual harassment.”
Matt nods and stares down at the table, not quite able to look up at me. “Yes, my dad loves his secretaries.”
I don’t say a thing. What could I possibly say? This just in: Matt is fully aware that his dad is a grade A womanizer.
“I hated him when I was a kid,” he confesses. “He made my mom’s life hell. She knew he was cheating. She’s not stupid, my mother. They’d fight night and day, and it really got to me and my sister. I think that’s why I was so messed up, why I was such a jerk as a kid. I’d see other kids with happy families and I’d be so envious of them.”
“I… I’m sorry.” I’m shocked by his revelation, by the sudden intimacy we’ve fallen into. “I know how you feel,” I tell him. “My father was a player and a deadbeat too. At least, yours stuck around.”
“Yep.” A huge breath escapes him. “And he paid for my education, got me a job. I wouldn’t have everything I have if it weren’t for him.”
My throat suddenly feels very dry. I gulp down a sip of my wine. It’s delicious. “True.”
“I don’t hate him anymore,” he tells me. “He’s a good father, for the most part. He was just a crappy husband.”
The server presents us our second course, and the sommelier waxes lyrical about the wine pairing.
Just shut the hell up, and leave our food.
I realize we will be here for a long, long time. I’ll be seventy-three by the time we finish this meal. But somehow, I don’t mind. The company’s good.
“Honestly, I worry about your mother,” he tells me. “I like Florence a lot. I’m afraid he might end up hurting her like he did my mother.”
My stomach jerks. Not sure if it’s the wine or food, or his comment. “I do too,” I confess. “Honestly, I’d like to stop the whole ordeal. I think she’s making a huge mistake.”
“I do too.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Is he trying to sabotage his father’s wedding. Does he have an ulterior motive? Does he think my mother will steal his inheritance?
“There’s nothing we can do,” I tell him. “I told her about his Casanova ways, but she won’t hear a word. She’s wearing blinders.”
He shakes his head as he digs into his food. “Typical. My dad is very charming, and knows how to treat a woman like a queen. They get caught up in it, in the fantasy.”
“No matter how old we are, we women all seem to want the whole Cinderella-thing,” I tell him. “Blame it on Disney.”
He smiles and is quiet for a moment. He looks gorgeous under the soft glow of the restaurant, and I suddenly realize how sexy the atmosphere is, all warm lighting, sleek leather and shiny walls and ceilings. It oozes sex.
Or maybe I’m just horny.
Is that what I’m doing right now? Am I falling into the whole Cinderella fantasy? I’ve always thought of myself as a strong, independent woman. Yet… I’m quite enjoying being wined and dined.
Oscar would be appalled.
A pensive expression traces his brow as he swallows a bite. “Maybe… you’re going to think this is crazy…”
Fork mid-air, I ask, “What?”
“I know a girl who lives in Paris,” he tells me. “She’s quite… uh… sexy.”
“Ex-girlfriend?”
He smiles. “More of a friend-with-benefits.”
“Oh, I know all about that.” I think of Oscar and Corrie and wonder what they’re doing right at this moment. They were going to check out the Marais and get a bite there.
