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I look away from the decor and right at Drew. Where I expect to see a smile, I find a face that is closer to that of a man who wants to throw up.
What is wrong with him?
He takes the chair opposite of me, and I keep my smile in place even as I slump at the fact he didn't take the seat right next to me. It's not a huge table, but it feels big enough that he seems far away. I try to ignore the bad feeling festering in my gut and put my attention elsewhere.
"This entire place is beautiful and amazing. I’m happy that you brought me here, but what made you choose this place?”
He sucks in a sharp breath and snaps his napkin out to place it across his lap.
"Fuck, Maybel, am I going to have to explain every decision I make to you from now on?"
I blink slowly and swallow around the lump of emotion in my throat.
"Wha-What?"
He shakes his head, and I watch the muscles along his jaw jump as he grits his teeth.
“Just… let’s have a good night,” he says, his voice a little softer.
I’m bewildered by the change in his attitude but don’t get the chance to comment on it because the server comes in right then. She brings a pitcher of water with her and fills our cups, then follows with red wine.
I breathe through my nose and remind myself that while I’m not taking any more of Drew’s shit, I also want us to be a team. We can’t do that if my first thought is to always fire back and be on the offensive.
“Have a good night?” I question. “This was your idea, and now you’re sitting across from me acting as if you’re pissed that you brought me here in the first place.”
What the hell is happening here?
Even when he's been mean, cruel, he's never...like this. Not to me at least. It’s a red flag. Something is off, wrong.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
As he watched me from across the table, I can feel his eyes sweeping a fiery path over my skin. I see something that resembles panic shining in his eyes. What’s going on? What is he not telling me? The desire to flee to that safe place in my mind is difficult to fight against but I do it.
I push out of my chair and stand beside the table. “Drew. I need you to talk to me. I know something is wrong.”
The door behind us opens, and I twist in my seat. My entire body becomes one frozen block when I realize who walked in. It’s not the server that comes through the door but Drew's father.
He saunters into the room in his twenty thousand dollar suit, his hair slicked back, his eyes hard and unwavering. "Well, isn't this cozy? You two are finally taking the time to get to know each other the proper way?”
The proper way? He’s kidding, right?
It all makes sense now. The puzzle pieces glide into place, and while I’m angry at his father’s sudden appearance, I’m not really surprised. Putting my trust in Drew, I choose to believe that this isn’t a setup, and he didn’t go through this willingly.
After our heart-to-heart the other night, I have no doubts that this is all his father’s doing. I’m tempted to retreat into myself and scurry around the table and hide behind Drew. Especially when his father’s beady eyes sweep the length of my body, stopping at my cleavage and the short hem of my dress, but I don’t. I won’t give this fucker the satisfaction of scaring me into submission.
"My, oh, my, doesn't your little wallflower clean up well? She almost looks...decent. It’s crazy how a little makeup, money, and dress can change a girl's entire appearance."
Hot liquid rage makes me clench my hands into tight fists.
"You’re a pig." I can’t stand to be in the same room with this monster, not with all the knowledge I know about it. “Let me know when the trash takes itself out. I’ll be at the bar until then.” I move to push past him, but he cuts me off.
His hand clamps tight around my bicep, circling it completely. "Please, you don't have to leave, at least not on my account. I only wanted to make sure my son’s date is well taken care of." I cringe, my skin crawling from his touch. He’s looking at me like I’m a side of beef at the butcher, and he might want a cut.
There's a noise, and I realize Drew’s practically vibrating as he surges to his feet, his knees having knocked into the table in his haste to get to me. The heavy, erratic beat of my heart slows once Drew reaches my side. “Let. Her. Go”
His father releases me and lifts his hands into the air as if to say he means no harm. “Don't get your panties in a twist. I was just ensuring your date doesn't abandon you before the first course, Son."
The server returns with bread and sets it in the middle of the table. Drew's dad snatches the woman around the waist, one arm anchoring her to him the other circling her throat, his touch possessive.
