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“Of course I do—who wouldn’t? This is an insane amount of effort to put into a date, though. How did you even do all this in one day?”
“Thatpart was a bit tricky, but I called in some favors. I figured if I’m going to convince you to go out with me again, I’d better go big or go home.”
Shaking my head as I take the napkin off the charger and unfold it across my lap, I say, “Well, I hope that’s not why you went to all this trouble. It is very nice and I’mveryimpressed, but this doesn’t change anything between us.”
When I look at him across the table, I expect him to look thunderstruck. He’s thrown all this money in front of me and arranged a lavish date that exceeds even my wildest dreams—he must have expected the show of wealth and effort would change my mind. Honestly, I can even understand why he would. He thinks he can buy anything, even me, and it must be a shock to find out he’s wrong.
But he doesn’t look surprised or disappointed at all. It’s almost as if that’s the response he expected, which begs the question: what sane person would put in this level of effort not even expecting it to change anything?
“You don’t seem disheartened,” I remark tentatively.
He shakes his head. “I’m not. That’s about how I expected you to feel.”
Frowning faintly, I ask, “Why did you do all of this, then?”
His gaze meets mine across the table, and without a flicker of hesitation or disingenuousness, he says, “Because I thought you deserved it.”
His words hollow out a space in my stomach that I don’t entirely understand.
I’ve never in my life been out with a man like him before. I mean in the bad ways, sure, but the good ones, too. I’ve been out with my share of selfish assholes who take what they want without concern for other people, but I’ve never gone out with a man who would go to all this trouble knowing I’d just reject him in the end, anyway.
Granted, perhaps that stings less for Calvin because he knows he’ll take what he wants regardless of my decision, but he doesn’t have to put in all that effort first. I knew showing up was non-negotiable. He could have had Hollis pick me up and bring me right to his place. Hell, he could’ve mauled me without even giving me dinner and then sent me on my way.
Instead, he rented out The Met because he thought I deserved it.
It’s hard to reconcile both sides of him sometimes. How he could be so heartless and hurt me the way he has, but then do something as thoughtful and considerate as this when he certainly didn’t have to.
If I didn’t know better, it might be easy to get confused.
But I know better.
Right?
Yes. Yes, of course I do…
Chapter Eighteen
Hallie
The waiter brings over our first course. It’s a plate of cured meats with grapes, olives, and cheeses. He also gives us a basket of bread for the table with some seasoned oil.
The next course is a single meatball slider with some kind of shaved cucumber slaw on the side.
An incredible cut of steak is brought out next. It’s so good, each bite makes my mouth water and my eyes roll back in my head. All I want to talk about is how good it is, but I don’t want Calvin to feel too proud of himself, so I hold my tongue.
A small plate of delicious pasta is brought out, and then—finally—dessert.
“An actual dessert tonight,” I remark as the waiter puts down a small dish that looks like ice cream, but I guess is probably gelato. There’s a dollop of cream on top dusted with spice. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I grab my spoon and have a taste.
My taste buds are overwhelmed at first bite. Between the spice and the creaminess—and there’s a slice of something cake-like that I didn’t notice looking at it, it blended in with the spice dusting.
Oh my god.
As soon as I’ve swallowed my bite, I ask, “What is this?”
Calvin’s lips quirk. “Heaven.”
He’s not kidding. I take another small bite and look across the table at him as I prepare to swallow. “You’ve shown me heaven and hell. What a well-rounded tour guide you are.”
