Page 44 of For the Love of Art

“If you want separate tables, we could do that, though it would be really weird,” he replied.

His grey eyes were planted on me, and my heart thundered.

I surprised myself again by saying, “Pho sounds good.”

Nathan smiled, then leaned forward and spoke quietly to the driver.

He leaned back in his seat, a small smile on his lips. I felt a little exhilarated knowing that I was the one who put it there.

The restaurant was lively and smelled delicious.

A petite woman placed two steaming bowls in front of us, her eyes locked on Nathan, who only seemed to have any affection for the bowl of spicy pho he’d ordered. When he didn’t acknowledge her, she backed away from the table but kept her eye on him all the way to the front.

“That seriously doesn’t bother you?”

“What?” he asked as he pulled a pair of chopsticks out of a paper package and ripped them apart.

“That woman staring at you like that.”

I could feel more eyes than the waitress on us, but I tried to pay it no attention.

“I thought we had this conversation already.”

“We did. Kind of. I don’t know! I just feel all the eyes.”

Nathan shrugged. “I’m a nobody. People want to make me a somebody, but I’m not.”

“Nathan,” I groaned. “We both know that’s not true. Manning is a powerful name in New York.”

“My dad was a powerful name in New York,” Nathan said. “I am just his son and didn’t follow in his footsteps. The company that’s been in the Manning family for generations sold to the highest bidder, and I followed my dream. I was a disappointment to him. The city just hasn’t caught on yet.”

I swallowed. Was. His father was a powerful name. I’d forgotten that he’d died a few years back.

“Your sister didn’t want it either?”

“It was never her responsibility. It was mine.” He took a breath and then said, “You should eat before it gets cold.”

I ate, but it wasn’t enjoyable. Between the thought of my divorce papers and the weird feeling I got every time Nathan and I were together, my stomach was in knots. I did my best, though, and managed to get through most of the bowl before leaning my spoon and chopsticks on the side of the dish. I sat back, my hand on my stomach.

“Full?” Nathan asked, also putting down his spoon and chopsticks.

I nodded my head. “Yeah. It was delicious, though.”

The petite server practically ran back to our table when she saw the opening.

“Are you done? Can I get you anything else?” she asked a little too enthusiastically.

Once again, Nathan ignored the woman drooling over him.

“The bill, please.”

Her face dropped slightly but held a little hope as she asked, “Together or separate?”

“Together.”

She looked disappointed but went to get what he requested.

“Nathan, you don’t have to pay for my dinner.”