Page 105 of Van Cort
“Well, darlin’, isn’t wanting to see you enough?”
“Did you forget everything that’s happened over the last couple of days? And I’m really not in the mood.”
“I thought we could go somewhere nice and have dinner.”
Oh, he’s just on a roll. “You can’t just swoop in and throw a nice date at me and think everything is going to be okay. You obviously think I’m going to drop everything for you as you’re already dressed.” Any guilt at being too curt with him today evaporates under the heat of the anger now burning in my gut.
“So, that’s a no?” He grins at me, and it twists my stomach with nerves of anticipation.
“Urghh, you are so frustrating.”
“Wear something nice. Something special for me.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to leave. But he’s made the effort, and the surprise doorstep visits are in his repertoire.
I stare at him, waiting for the simmer to fade.
I haven’t eaten, and maybe taking work out of the equation will help us. It’s been off since we came back, although I put that down to his neanderthal type behaviour, not mine. Somehow, I need to find my way back to not being angered by his dominant streak.
“If I accept, you need to wait for me in the car. I don’t trust you if I invite you in.”
“Seriously?” he questions.
“After yesterday at the office, yes, seriously. If you have reservations, I hope you’ve given me time and don’t expect me to be ready in ten minutes.”
“You take all the time you need, Andie.”
“River?” I thought the Ms Anderson in the office was appropriate. But he keeps forgetting, even after making a point of telling me he’ll call me that from now on. “You don’t seem to be able to make up your mind if it’s Andie or River.”
And there’s that damned, beautiful smile again.
I shut the door and go get ready.
***
I cling to his arm in the hope that my stiletto heel doesn’t slip between the slats of the pier. It’s an unusual spot, not what I would have thought he would have chosen, but he is good at surprises. As we turn towards the entrance, perhaps some of the why is answered. The sky catches alight, blazing with reds and golds and oranges, all burning towards the horizon. It’s beautiful and makes the delicate walk here worth it.
“Stunning, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I shouldn’t keep forgetting about the views right on our doorstep,” I muse,as the colours sink deeper into the Sound.
“You prefer the view in Vancouver?” he asks.
“Prefer might be too permanent a word. I love a good sunset. Vancouver was special, though.” My fingers reach for the chain at my neck, as if checking that it did happen. The memory of how mad I’ve been with him douses the words I want to say. Like, the views in Vancouver were made better because of you. Or, it meant more in Vancouver because you shared it with me and nobody else.
I sound like a romantic. So, I turn from the equally romantic setting sun and study him instead.
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “Come on.” He leads us towards the glass entrance doors, and we head inside.
Considering the fine black suit and the dress requirements, I’m a little surprised at how casual the restaurant looks inside.
“Mr Van Cort.” He greets the maître d’.
“Of course, Sir. This way.”
I force myself not to fidget as we make our way through the crowded room to a wide sweeping staircase leading up to the first floor. Which is completely empty, and has one single table positioned before the window with the perfect vista of the final rays of sun.
It’s ours.
No interruptions. Nobody else. Just us.
