Page 81 of A Fool's Game

Taylor gave us the rundown of why this restaurant is so famous and why we’re lucky to have secured an elusive reservation on the elevator ride, Ainsley looking on, amused. I’m sure he knows all about the awards and accolades Taylor lists off, but he keeps his mouth shut.

I’m happy there’s something like this for Taylor on the trip. When Ainsley invited us, I knew it was a long shot for Taylor to agree to take the days off and get on a plane, but there was no way I was going without him. Now that I’ve gotten used to it being the three of us all the time, I don’t know how I’ll ever live without them.And I also don’t know how long I can realistically keep the three of us together, so I want to spend as much time with them as possible.

Ainsley tries to drop my hand as we walk down the hallway toward the door to the restaurant, but I grab for it, capturing it in my own and looking up at him in confusion. But then I glance back down at our clasped hands, and over at where I also hold Taylor’s hand.

And I let go of them both.

“Is that how this is going to be? We’re going to spend thisdinner pretending we’re something we’re not to keep dear old dad happy?” Taylor asks, adjusting his collar now that he has both hands free.

“Taylor,” I admonish him with a soft smack on his arm.

“You just described my entire life,” Ainsley says, pulling open the heavy wood door to reveal a smiling hostess.

I’ve seen pictures of the Raft dining room on the internet, but none of them do justice to the actual room. It’s bright and airy, with whitewashed walls and light wood tables, accents of teal and dark green. The soft, beach colored palette allows the goblets of dark red and sparkling pink wine to be part of the overall vibe. They stand out like gems twinkling in the soft, golden sunlight.

Ben and Victoria are waiting for us at the bar, and Ainsley leads us right over to them, greeting his dad with a smile and a side hug. No hugs for Victoria, though. Ainsley steps back between Taylor and me after clapping his father on the back.

I can see Taylor shifting from foot to foot and I glance over at him, his expression stoney and unreadable. I’m suddenly a bit worried about how this is all going to go. Since his admission in our hotel room earlier, Ainsley’s gone out of his way to assure us that everything really is fine. That he’s okay with his father’s relationship. That the three of them get along, and he’s looking forward to the wedding.

I want to believe him. No, I do believe him.

It’s just…the other stuff.

When Ainsley broke down after pulling that card in his living room, the pain he expressed was about trying to live up to his father’s expectations. How hard it was for the two of them after losing his mother. How that pain morphed into a cage of fake happiness that Ainsley thinks he has to live in forever just so this man won’t ever have to feel sad or disappointed again.

That’s the dad drama I’m concerned about.

I’m determined to keep my own personal grudges to myself.

As I sneak a sideways glance at Taylor once more, however, I can tell he’s taking a different approach to the interpretation of this situation.Taylor’s someone who’s at risk of losing something he’s wanted his whole life because of his own parents’ negligence. Or at least that’s how he sees it. He’s expressed to me more than once how they stole his life from him. First by putting the family property at risk, then by making him give up his own dreams to fund the work that needed to be done to save that property.And, if there’s one thing I know about Taylor, it’s that he’s protective as hell of the people he considers his own. I’ve been noticing him looking at Ainsley in that way for weeks. The same way he looks at me.

I pray that Ainsley’s unsuspecting father survives this meal.

Our table is clearly the best in the house, rectangular and situated right in front of a large, picture window that’s currently showcasing a spectacular sunset. Golds, pinks, and wisps of blue paint the sky as we approach the chairs. There are six of them for the five of us. Ben, in casual confidence that he’s clearly no stranger to, leads Victoria to a window seat and pulls out her chair, helping her unnecessarily into it.

Ainsley steps toward me, probably planning the same move, but Taylor beats him to it, settling me across from Victoria and then turning, to pull out the chair at the end of the table for Ainsley before taking his own seat between the two of us.

Directly across from Ben.

I can’t look at Ben, but my darting gaze catches Victoria’s curious one, and I look down at my hands. Then, with a deep breath, I muster my courage and look back up.

She’s younger than me, I know that from when Taylor grilled Ainsley earlier. She has kind eyes, though, bright greenagainst the backdrop of her dark hair. She smiles her red painted lips, and I smile back, feeling myself calm at the silent camaraderie that forms between the two of us.I hope I get the chance to actually talk to her this weekend, somewhere other than the battlefield of this table. I see the glimmer of insight in those wise eyes, and I’d love to hear it.

The server fills our wine glasses with an effervescent-looking white wine that he describes in detail, but I ignore, waiting impatiently for him to leave so I can drink it.The cool, crisp wine takes the edge off my nerves, and I exhale fully for the first time since we sat down.

Ben is the first to speak, breaking through the now uncomfortable silence.

“Taylor, I hear you’re in the restaurant industry. Raft is celebrating its sixth year in the running for the Pendleton Award.”

Maybe I didn’t give Ben the credit I should have. He clearly identified his greatest opponent and disarmed the man with one line.

Taylor softens as he sets his own wine glass down. “Didn’t you guys win a few years back?”

Ben nods. “We sure did. And we’ve been up against steep competition ever since. The bar keeps rising in this industry, and we keep rising with it.”

“I’ll admit, this restaurant was the reason I let these two talk me into coming.”

Ben sits back in his chair just slightly, cradling his wine glass.

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