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“Would you like to change the order?” Victor asks, raising his brows. “I’m sure there’s still time.”
“If you don’t like it, you can have some of mine instead,” Saint adds.
“No. The food is fine. I just didn’t like that you ordered for me. I thought this was a… a date?” I look between the three of them, trying to gauge their reactions. Saint, of course, lights up like a puppy when he hears me call it a date. Angelo smirks, and Victor… is as expressionless as ever.
I wonder whose idea this whole thing was anyway. Probably Saint’s, and Angelo talked Victor into it.
“If it’s a date, then you’ll have no problem accepting my suggestion as to the best dish at this restaurant, paired with the wine I’ve already selected,” Victor counters. “Call me old-fashioned.”
“You are old-fashioned,” I gripe, but I pick up my wine glass and take a sip. It’s slightly sweet, something I hadn’t expected, and I resist the urge to drain it. I’m too keyed up, and it would be nice to have a chance to relax—even though it feels impossible to relax with these three.
“There are worse things,” Victor says placidly.
I can’t deny that that’s true.
There’s a lull in the conversation then, something awkward as we sit and look at each other—or rather, as they all look expectantly at me, like they’re just waiting for me to make the first move.
Finally, Saint gets uncomfortable, scratching at his ear piercing, and says, “Hey, uh, I started watching that new show. With the single mom and the teen daughter? It’s pretty funny. I think you’d like it. Surprisingly raunchy too.”
We’d mentioned checking out the new show together when it came out, but the premiere had happened after I’d left them behind. I’ve had too much on my mind to worry about television, but I don’t want to snap at Saint and make him feel bad for the attempt at making conversation.
They’re… trying. In their own strange ways.
It makes my stomach flutter oddly, and I don’t know what to make of the sensation.
“Yeah? I’ll have to check it out,” I tell him, toying with my wine glass. I eye it suspiciously, wondering for a moment if the sweetness I’d tasted had really come from the wine choice or if Saint had used one of his party favors on me.
Just like that, the odd feeling vanishes, and I sigh.
It’s not enough to keep me from taking another sip, though. If they want to deal with my passed-out body at a restaurant as nice as this, that’s on them.
I should care more, but after so much time with them, then Pavone, my body hardly feels like my own anymore anyway.
Victor snorts, and I look up at him.
“What’s so amusing?” I ask.
He takes a sip from his own wine glass, then extends it across the table to me. “Would you like to trade?”
He must have noticed me eyeing the glass.
I blush, even though there’s nothing for me to be embarrassed about. “Yes.” I take his glass and pass mine to him, watching as he very pointedly takes a sip.
Saint makes a grumbling noise. “I wouldn’t drug you while we’re on a date.”
I have a hard time believing that, and I eye him long enough to where he turns a little red. I have to wonder how many times he has drugged his “dates.” But I don’t call him out on it. I just drink more of the sweet wine, glad that Victor’s tastes the same.
The waiter returns with a large tray, starting to set our plates before us with casual deference. My stomach rumbles at the sight of the food in front of me, plated artistically and seeming even more appealing for it.
“Hungry?” Angelo asks, smirking.
I shoot him a glare. I hadn’t been hungry back at home, but that had been with Pavone’s specter invading my thoughts at every turn. But now that I’m out here, I’m ravenous.
I pick up my fork and knife and start to cut up the duck, which falls apart beautifully. We’re all quiet as we start to eat, appreciating the fine food.
“Not to drag things down,” Angelo says after a few bites, “But did your dad ever hire a landscaper? No, wait, I know he did. But I meant, did he hire the cheapest landscapers? The yard and garden look awful. Over-mulched, over-pruned…”
I roll my eyes. “No one but you would notice that,” I tell him. “It’s not like we have parties out in the garden on a regular basis. You gonna tell Pavone he needs to hire better landscapers for my father’s house?”
