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“Have a seat.” I pulled her chair out and helped her get seated. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I walked over to the other chair and sat down.
“I thought we’d keep it simple.” I looked at the nice meal she had on the table…poached salmon, sautéed spinach and roasted potatoes.
“Thank you. It looks delicious. Gabriella said cooking is your therapy.”
“I never thought of it that way, but I guess she’s right.” She placed her napkin in her lap. “Before we start,” she bowed her head and said grace. Another thing I have grown accustomed to as a result of dining with Gabriella.
“Amen,” we said in unison.
“Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” I fixed my plate and I was able to get a couple of bites in before she started with the questions.
“Phillippe,” she wiped her mouth. “I’m glad you wanted to meet.”
“You are?”
“Yes, I owe you an apology for my behavior the other day.”
“Apology accepted.”
She put another forkful of food into her mouth and chewed. I followed her lead. She swallowed, wiped her mouth, and the main event started.
“With that said, I want to know what your end game is with my daughter?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why my child?”
I wiped my mouth. “Gabriella is not a child.”
“She’s my baby.”
“I’m not sure what it is you want me to say.”
“You’re a very mature, somewhat older man than my daughter.”
I think she just called me old. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I am not that much older than Gabriella.”
“Let’s put age aside. You’ve experienced life, and she’s just getting started.”
“I’m aware of that.” I sat up straighter. “Madame, I think I know what you want to know.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Gabriella and I are not sleeping together.”
“I know that.”
“Of course, she would probably tell you if we were.”
“Before meeting you, I would have said yes. However, I don’t think that’s so any more.”
“Excusez-moi?”
“That right there…the French.”
