Page 7 of White Wedding
She nodded, grateful he’d asked. The other two caterers hadn’t given her the option, but their food didn’t have half the appeal that Rafael’s did.
After Ben assessed the menus, he turned to Victoria. “This is the last stop on your list, right? What happens if we hate the food? Do you have anything else lined up?”
Her shoulders tightened. Would it kill him to muster up a little tact? “Why don’t you try it first?”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are we out of options or not?”
She lowered her voice. “Ben, please. You’re being impolite.” When he glared at her, she fought to keep her voice level, as though dealing with a temperamental child. “But, yes, you’re running out of time and options. Everyone’s booked solid because of the holidays.”
“You’re not putting much effort into this,” he said. “You wouldn’t be acting this way if it was your own wedding.”
Itwasmy own wedding, you giant dick.
But she didn’t say it. No matter how badly Ben behaved, no matter how much he hurt her with his backhanded comments, she couldn’t risk antagonizing him. If she did, he’d call her father, and then she’d have to endure another lecture in his office. “Please try the food. If it’s not to your liking, I can make a few more calls.”
Not that she had any leads. At this point, she’d be lucky to get Panera to do the catering.
With the menus in front of them, they nibbled on appetizers and sampled small portions of the entrees. Ben took notes on his menu but said very little. The food was exceptional, making Victoria regret that she’d never eaten at the restaurant. When she tried the pork in mole sauce, she let out a small groan of pleasure. “Oh, my God. I could eat an entire plate of this.”
Rafael rewarded her with the briefest of smiles. “It’s Martin’s take on one of our restaurant’s signature dishes.”
Ben, on the other hand, was wiping his nose with a handkerchief. The fancy kind, with his initials embroidered in the corner. “The pork dish is much too spicy. Can you make it milder?”
“If you wish,” Rafael said. “On our menu, it’s not hot enough to merit a one-chili-pepper rating, but for you, I can make it the equivalent of minus one.”
Was he mocking Ben? Victoria almost caught his eye, then thought better of it.
Ben set his plate to the side. “Normally, I’m not a fan of Mexican food. It’s kind of predictable. Tacos. Burritos. Nachos. But your stuff’s not half-bad.”
Could you be any more of an asshole?Not that Victoria should be surprised. She’d sat through her share of restaurant meals where Ben had been rude and dismissive to the servers.
Rafael gave a terse nod. “Thank you.”
Ben reached over and squeezed Missy’s shoulder. “What do you think, sweetie? Not too spicy?”
“It’s delicious,” she said. “But I’m worried about heartburn.” She clutched her stomach, where the slightest hint of a baby bump was showing. “Sometimes this little guy doesn’t react well to spicy food.”
“You’re expecting?” Rafael said. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. We’re due on May tenth.” Missy gazed up at Ben lovingly. “And we can’t wait, can we, sweetheart?”
“I’m counting the days,” he said to her. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother.”
Victoria sucked in her breath. When she and Ben had first started dating, he’d wooed her with sweet words and lavish compliments, but he’d never regarded her with such blatant adoration. Like she was a precious treasure he’d do anything to protect. Though she no longer wanted him back, seeing him and Missy so blissful together still hurt. She tried to ignore them and focused instead on the sublime mix of flavors on her plate. Even if Ben and Missy decided against Tres Hermanos, she’d have to check out the restaurant at some point in the future.
Preferably on a day when Rafael wasnotin the building.
When they were done eating, Missy clutched her stomach again. Her mouth twisted into a grimace, and her forehead glistened with sweat.
“Miss Cavendish? Are you all right?” Rafael asked.
“No, I—” Missy clapped her hand over her mouth and made a strangled noise. She stood up quickly, bracing her hand on the table for support.
Ben rose beside her. “Where’s the restroom?”
But it was too late. Missy leaned over and vomited, missing the table by mere inches. Bile mixed with bits of food splattered onto the floor. Victoria’s gag reflex kicked in at the smell, but she swallowed back her nausea. If she had been in Missy’s position, she would have apologized profusely. Not Missy. She straightened up, wiped her mouth, and scowled at Rafael, as though he was somehow to blame.
“I need the ladies’ room.Now. And someone needs to clean this up.”
