Page 18 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
During dinner, he asks me more about the foundation, and I fill him in, providing more details about our other projects, and the twelve full-time employees I have, along with the countless volunteers. He listens intently, leaning toward me.
“Where did you go to school?” I ask him, lifting my water goblet to my lips.
“Jesuit Prep,” he says, watching me drink.
I’m familiar with it. It’s a private all-boys prep school in Maryland where the annual tuition is more than most families make in a year.
“And then Yale,” I add.
“Yes.” His eyes slide over me, and I grow warm.
He’s looking at me like I’m a cookie he wants to eat. I clear my throat.
“And now you’re ... traveling?” I assume he doesn’t have to work with his trust fund and family connections, but I’m really not sure what he does or how he spends his time.
“Traveling, yes. But also looking for opportunities to invest in and get involved with. Since graduating I’ve been working a little with our family’s foundation.”
When the server reappears to remove our empty plates, Hart turns to him. “Thanks for the recommendation. This was phenomenal.”
The server smiles and tells Hart the background on the dish and how the chef created it.
While I watch them, I decide I like how he treats people. He’s polite, and he doesn’t have to be. Not when he could buy and sell this restaurant, this entire city block if he wanted to. My father once told me you could tell a lot about a person by the way they treated the staff, and it’s something I’ve always remembered. I’m not impressed by money or titles but by the way someone treats others. Hart seems to treat everyone with kindness, and I like that.
“Can we have separate checks?” I ask the server when they wrap up their conversation.
Hart frowns. “No. Please allow me.” He hands the server his card.
Before I can press the issue, a girl appears beside our table.
“Hart?”
She’s beautiful. Tall and thin with long blond hair that falls in a sleek curtain down the center of her back. Her black satin dress is impossibly short, and her legs go on forever. The look she gives Hart is familiar, intimate.
“Ava, remember?” she says, smiling shyly.
He studies her for a brief moment before recognition flashes in his hazel eyes. “I do remember.” He gives her an uncomfortable, rehearsed smile.
They’ve slept together. That much is obvious. Painfully so. My stomach twists into a knot.
I crumple the cloth napkin on my lap into a ball, squeezing it tightly.
Ava glances my way once, dismissively, and then gives Hart another shy, sultry look. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”
Once she’s gone, he leans closer and says, “I’m sorry about that.”
I brush off his apology, but the truth is, I’m agitated. Mostly at myself. I’m a middle-aged woman sitting here getting jealous over a past hookup.
Hart signs the receipt and places his black Amex back inside his wallet.
“Should we go?” I ask, already rising from the table.
He stands quickly, and his hand is at my elbow to help me from my seat.
“Can I walk you back to your hotel?”
I nod.
We’re quiet on the walk back; the only sounds are the passing traffic and my boots on the sidewalk. It seems there’s nothing more to say. This was a silly idea, and I’d built it up as something in my head that it is clearly not.
