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For that, I received a dark blue glare. “And?”
My gaze ping-ponged between him and the waiter, who was trying not to look curious.
“And…it’s a hundred and fifty a pop,” I whispered, though I couldn’t have said why. Our audience of one could hear me just fine.
“You also have the choice of an optional wine or sake pairing,” the waiter added most unhelpfully.
“One of each,” Xavier said as he handed his menu back to the waiter. “You don’t mind sharing, Ces.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Um, I do, actually,” I said. “Nothing for me, please. And I’ll just have, um, the agedashi tofu. It looks good.”
I didn’t actually have the slightest idea what agedashi meant, and the menu didn’t elaborate. I also didn’t particularly care for tofu, foie gras-style (whatever that meant) or otherwise.
“That’s an appetizer,” Xavier put in irritably.
“It’s also the only thing on the menu less than twenty dollars,” I replied. “Sounds good to me.”
The muscle at his neck began to twitch, and the tips of his ears pinked under the fringe of black.
“Well, actually, we can only do the tasting menu if the whole table orders it,” said the waiter, looking nervously between the two of us.
Both of their gazes turned to me. Xavier’s was basically an icicle, it was so cold.
I will not look away first. I will not look away first.
I looked away first.
Xavier took the opportunity to snatch away my menu and hand it back to the waiter. “We’ll have the foie gras, the kaiseki, and both of the drink pairings, like I said. That will be all.”
“Sir.”
The waiter left, leaving us each with the tiniest porcelain spoon of caviar balanced delicately on a saucer no bigger than my thumb.
“I actually prefer to order my own food,” I said. “And in case you forgot, I can read a menu as well. Xavier, I can’t afford a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar meal. I just can’t.”
“And I didn’t expect you could,” he said, almost impatiently. “After all that blather about your salary and whatnot…”
“Blather?” I repeated. “That’s my life I was talking about. How I take care of my—our—daughter. It’s not blather.”
Xavier opened his mouth like he wanted to argue back, but then our eyes met. Something in his gaze softened. Slightly.
“Of course it isn’t,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.”
His big shoulders relaxed. Mine mirrored the action.
“Thank you,” I said stiffly. “But, Xavier—”
“Xavi.” He stopped me, his hand covering mine once more. “I—I like it when you call me that, Ces. It makes things easier, I think.”
I stared at his hand for a long time, trying not to notice its solid warmth and long-fingered grace. Trying not to remember what it felt like when those fingers played over my body like it was an instrument he invented. Or maybe some delicious dish.
Xavier cleared his throat, then took his hand back to his lap.
“Besides,” he said in a slightly strained voice, “I told you, it’s research. I intend to put this restaurant out of business by the end of next year. I can’t do that if I don’t know what I need to do better. Their kaiseki menu is what earned them a Michelin star. I need to know why.”
“So you can ruin them?”
