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Following Victoria’s footsteps, I find the two separate doors leading to the men’s room and ladies room at the back. Taking a deep breath, I close my fingers over the door handle and push it down very gently and open the door.
I push it open to find Victoria huddled on the floor in her beautiful sheath dress. Her shoulders are trembling violently as if she’s hyperventilating.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” I ask as I rush inside.
35
A Heated Dinner
Parker
Victoria snaps her head up, her dark eyes wide in shock at probably seeing me standing there.
“I’m okay,” she says, lifting herself off the ground and walking over to the mirror. “Just unpleasant memories.”
I close the door behind me and walk over to the next sink, my eyes meeting hers in the reflection and she smiles. I know she’s trying to pretend as if I never just see her crying. “It really isn’t my place to say anything, but I saw how he was talking to you.”
Victoria reaches over and grabs a thick piece of tissue from the tissue holder on the wall. “Oh, no. Th-that’s nothing. I just needed to gather myself together. When you’re my age, you just learn to take it.”
“No one should have to learn to take that,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for intruding, but you looked upset. I’m also sorry about your daughter,” I add, not quite sure of what else to say.
Victoria dabs at the tears underneath her eyes, her dark makeup all still flawless before she casts a glance at me. “Thank you. It’s okay. It’s been a while since her death.”
She discards the tissue in a small black bin and turns around to face me. “How long have you and Hudson been dating? I don’t mean to pry, but I am curious because Hudson is always quiet about his love life. You know, I’m never quite sure if he’s ever happy these days. I barely see him.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks at the unexpected question. “Oh, well, I don’t know how to describe it, but Hudson and I are not dating. I think we both like each other, but we haven’t discussed anything further than that.”
“Well,” Victoria says reaching out and taking my hand. “My son would be an idiot if he didn’t already realize what an amazing woman you are. And I’ve only known you for five seconds. Come, let’s not keep them waiting.”
We leave the restroom together and when we walk back out into the front of the restaurant, food is already being served.
I take a seat next to Hudson who is sitting quietly while John and Matt are deeply engrossed in a conversation.
“So, why do you look so familiar to me?” John asks turning the discussion to me.
“She’s William Kelleher’s daughter,” Hudson replies for me.
“Oh.” The surprise in his voice is clear. “Your father and I are very good friends. He helped design a few of our new hotels.”
“How did you two meet?” Matt asks as a waiter appears at our table and starts setting appetizers of oysters on heaps of crushed ice, garlic rolls and prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella with tomato jam.
“At school,” Hudson and I say simultaneously, before glancing at each other.
He flashes a small smile at me, before placing his warm palm on my thigh, his fingers gently grazing up and down my exposed skin by the slit of my dress.
I clear my throat, swallowing down the gasp that forms in my throat, but Hudson doesn’t move his hand away. He continues to lightly massage my skin, moving his fingers in circles at first, before dangerously sliding them lower down my thigh and then keeping his palm there for a few minutes.
I turn my focus on the appetizer, being conscious of how much of each thing I eat. I decide on taking one medium-sized oyster and I lift my fork, before moving the meat around its liquid-filled shell to make sure it’s detached.
The last thing I want is to look like an idiot in front of them while eating oysters. Thankfully, I went on enough lunch dates with my mother to the country clubs to know oyster-eating etiquette.
Hudson begins squeezing my thigh harder and I slid him a glance, to find him watching me move the oyster around with the fork. The heat in his eyes is undeniable.
The tension in my belly grows as I lift the oyster to my lips, tilt the shell and let the fish slip into my mouth. Hudson watches me carefully, his fingers daringly travel up my thigh and an unintentional moan escapes my lips.
Victoria, John and Matt all turn their heads to me and I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment.
I chew the slightly fleshy oyster fast, before swallowing. “These are really fresh, Mrs Saylor-Tyne,” I say.
