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I put a hand on my hip and roll my eyes. “That’sDoctorwife to you, Mr. Stride.”
Hunter chuckles. “Of course, how silly of me.”
Charlie claps his hands. “Alrighty, folks. Dinner reservations have been made for five. Let’s head on over because I’m starving.”
You ate four bags of chips in the car, Mei-Lee protests.Taylor better be careful. This guy has a bottomless pit for a stomach.
“What’s she saying?” Charlie asks, glancing to me. “She’s flirting with me, isn’t she? I can tell. Oh, Mei-Lee, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m taken.”
Good! She can keep you out of my damn pantry.
I stifle a laugh, reaching down to hold my son’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go eat!”
Lucas’ face lights up. “Yay!”
* * *
Not much has changed about El Blanco in the past five years. Their menu is much the same, though they’ve done a bit of redecorating since they’ve come under new ownership. One thing that stands the test of time, however, is Hunter’s designated table in the back. He’s recognized by the hostess at the front podium the second he steps inside, no waitlist or standing around in the lobby necessary.
“Right this way, Mr. Stride,” she says, guiding our party of eight to the back.
There are whispers wherever we go, but we’ve grown accustomed to it. My husband has gotten very good at keeping his work life and personal life separate, so there’s always a bit of gossip floating around on the odd occasion when those two things mix.
“Why are people staring at Dad?” Lucas asks me as we make our way to the table.
“You remember what Dad does for work, right?”
“He makes movies.”
“That’s right. As a matter of fact, he makes very famous movies. People really like his work.”
“And that’s why they’re staring? Dad says it’s rude to stare.”
“Sometimes people can’t help themselves, sweetie. All we can do is be polite and mind our own business.”
Hunter slips into the booth and pats the empty spot next to him. “Pop a squat, little man.”
“But I want to sit next to Mom.”
I smile. “How about you sit between us?”
It takes us a few minutes to settle in. Our waiter takes our drink and food orders. It isn’t long, however, before a guest from a different table meanders over.
“Oh myGod,” a young twenty-something gasps at Mom. “You’retheAnnabeth Spencer, right?”
Mom smiles, but it’s tight-lipped. We should have known this would happen when we decided to have dinner at a public restaurant. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Would it, like, be alright if I took a selfie with you? My Instagram followers will literallydieif they see you with me.”
Thomas puts his foot down. “We’re in the middle of a private family gathering. I think Annabeth would appreciate being left alone right now.”
The Instagrammer blinks, dumbfounded, as if she forgot all about the concept of common decency. “Oh, uh… Right. Sorry.”
“That’s okay, dear,” Annabeth says coolly. “Thank you for understanding.” She turns to Thomas after the woman leaves. “Thank you for that. You know how much I hate turning down fans. It’s always so awkward.”
Thomas crosses his arms. “Happy to do it. Nothing like the rush of putting an overstepping idiot in their place.”
Lucas gasps. “That’s a bad word, Grampie!”
