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They both dove in.
“I take it you prefer LA,” she noted.
He thought about it.
Images of his mother and father and feeling invisible or miserable juxtaposed over memories of Tom and Genny, Chloe, Matt and Sasha.
“I have mixed feelings,” he said.
“Mm?” she prompted
“I like the vibe and the hustle and the hurry. I like that I can get lost, like being in here, with you,” he said, indicating the restaurant with the jerk of his chin. “But there’s something about the sound of the waves on the sand. It’s just…home.”
“I see that.”
“And that would be Genny and Tom’s old home. Mom lived in the hills, close to Pasadena. Dad’s house…” He let that trail. “Home was always Genny and Tom’s place in Malibu.”
“I don’t know LA very well, but that isn’t exactly close to Pasadena, is it?”
“No, but Dad lived close to them. He wasn’t good with being too far away from Genny. She was his touchstone.”
She took a beat before she said, “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”
“Do I seem uncomfortable to you?”
She didn’t answer, and he sensed it wasn’t because their onion bhaji arrived.
“Do I?” he pressed after the waiter left.
“I don’t know you very well either, Hale. You seem pretty adjusted. It’s kind of annoying.”
He grinned at her.
She carried on, “But I get the impression there are some underlying issues you haven’t dealt with.”
At that, he laughed, loud and long. So much, some of the patrons turned to look.
If they recognized him or Elsa, they didn’t show it. This was off the beaten track. Not a destination for tourists. They were around true locals, who couldn’t give that first fuck the richest man in the world and his gorgeous, social-media-famous date were in their midst.
Yes, New York had its advantages.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he confirmed when he got his shit together. “There are issues I haven’t dealt with.”
He was surprised she had a dazzled look on her face that she didn’t try to hide as she said, “Okay.”
“Eat, while I play amateur psychologist,” he ordered.
“Fantastic,” she muttered, but he could tell she was joking.
“Your mother is jealous as fuck of you,” he told her.
She had onion bhaji in her mouth, so she chewed and swallowed before she said, “Ah, the don’t feel bad someone is treating you like shit, they’re just jealous excuse.”
He nodded. “In this instance, I think it’s true. You look like her. You’re of her. But you’re already more successful than she’s ever been, or at least in her estimation. Sadly, she doesn’t see maintaining a decades-long marriage to a good-looking, solid guy and creating three beautiful children as the accomplishments they are. I sense you’ve always been driven, even as a child, and she always knew there was a possibility you’d outshine her. And you do.”
“It’s annoying that this diagnosis both holds merit and is complimentary so I can’t refute it.”
He smiled at her and went after his own onion bhaji.
