Page 40 of Safer Alone
He stops us in our tracks, turns to me and looks me in the eye. “Yes, I care for Andrew. He has always been like an uncle to me, and I consider him family.” He stops for a moment. “Also, he is an incredibly good cook.” He smiles a full tooth-showing grin. A grin of someone without any cares in the world.
After a further moment, we start to walk again. Elliot shows me to a spot at the dinner table where he pulls out the seat for me. “Would you like to take a seat, mademoiselle?” His playfulness and attempt at a French accent was adorable.
“Oui, monsieur. Merci”. I did so and he pushed my seat in quietly.
“You know French?” he asks.
“Only a couple of words. You?”
“Just about the same as you, I’m afraid. Are you comfortable?” I nod in response. He then steps to the seat next to mine and sits down himself.
We had not been seated for any longer than thirty seconds when Andrew comes out of the conservatory towards us with a bottle of wine in hand. “Would you like a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, Miss White?” he asks. He has such a caring face and a warm smile.
“Yes, please, Andrew. May I also have some water?” I replied.
Andrew starts to pour my wine “I’ll go fetch you a pitcher of water in a moment, Miss White.” He then moves around me and fills Elliot’s glass. Once complete, he returns to the kitchen.
Within the blink of an eye, he has returned with a silver pitcher of water with ice cubes bobbing around the surface. He places it toward the midpoint of table. “Your entrée will be ready in fifteen minutes,” he informs us before walking back to the kitchen.
Elliot and I are finally alone. I take my wine glass in hand and raise it slightly in Elliot’s direction. “Here’s to a wonderful afternoon and hopefully, evening.”
I toast, Elliot lifts his glass and clinks it softly into mine. “I hope so, too,” he murmurs before taking a taste of his wine.
“So, what’s on the menu tonight?” I ask, not that I really care what we will be eating. However, I want to get the conversation started.
“Something delicious, I’m sure,” Elliot replies. I can see the candlelight dancing across his face. I sigh silently. He really is beautiful.
“I’m sure it will be. I find food always tastes better when you don’t have to cook it yourself.” He answers me with a soft chuckle.
“Did you find the products I left for you in the bathroom?” He asks, interrupting my thoughts. So he did place them there for me. I am instantly glad that I used them.
“I did when I was showering. Did you choose them?” I ask.
He nods and then turns ever so slightly to face me. Looking up through his lashes, he answers, “I’d like to think of myself as a fairly observant person. I noticed when I came to your house for dinner earlier in the week that the candle you had burning was vanilla and coconut. I figured you liked the aroma, as do I.” He stops for a moment before continuing. “I haven’t purchased those items before. The lady in the department store I purchased them from told me that they were a lovely product.” The way he looked at me was as though he was wanting my confirmation.
I lean my head close to his and turn it slightly to place my hair in front of his face. “I used all of the products. Do you like the smell?” I ask.
I feel him grasp my hair and push his nose into the strands. I then hear him inhale deeply, he pulls back slowly and releases the grip he has on my hair, allowing me to also pull my head back. “It smells heavenly,” is his only feedback.
I know that if I were to peer into a mirror at this moment, my cheeks would be bright red, and since he was looking right in my direction he would notice. With just a touch my skin will jump to attention like electricity was running over me or with one word he can make my heart race. I shouldn’t let a man have this much control over me. I have to somehow hold my own. I will never allow someone to have control over me again. Even if that control elicits a wonderful sensation.
I need to take back control of the conversation and get my heart back under control. Allow my cheeks to return to their normal shade. It is time to steer it back into more comfortable waters, where I can be in the driver’s seat and hold my own, so to speak. “I’m looking forward to seeing the design plans that you have drafted for your new house.” I pause trying to read his expression. “You mentioned that you had your assistant drop them off for you here. That way we can browse over them together while I am here,” I finished.
Elliot took his time replying. “Yes they are here. What’s the rush though? After all, we have all weekend. Can’t we just enjoy each other’s company and share a delicious meal together tonight?” He looked almost sad, as though I had wounded him. That most definitely was not my intention. Do I be truthful? Should I tell him my reservations? It couldn’t hurt, could it? He might agree wholeheartedly. Be in a similar position?
I take a quick sip of my wine for courage, place the glass back down and prepared myself to speak. “Ah Andrew, that smells delicious” Elliot’s words give me some reprieve. Our entrée is about to be served.
Andrew appears almost out of thin air and places a small round white bowl down on the table in front of me. I lean forward and take a whiff. It did smell amazing. He places Elliot’s down next and turns to look at me. “Pea and ham soup, Miss White, I hope you like it” and he shuffles off back towards the kitchen before I have the chance to thank him.
I pick up my soup spoon and lower it into the bowl, allowing the hot liquid to fill the depth of the spoon. I lift it out of the bowl and raise it to my lips, depositing it in slowly, allowing the hot broth to wash over my tongue and awaken my taste buds. I savor the taste for a moment. I could definitely taste a delicate smokiness to the ham, also the smooth texture that the pea gave it. I swallow, and immediately repeat the process.
We eat our entrée in silence, apart from the occasional clinking of our spoons on the bowl, or the sound of an owl hooting in the distance. I eat three quarters of the bowl before I set my spoon aside. I grab my napkin and with a corner dab my mouth a couple of times, after placing the napkin back down I pour myself a glass of iced water and take several large sips, so many times over that I drain the entire glass.
I look over at Elliot who was setting his bowl back on the table beside his spoon. He must have drained the last little bit of his soup by drinking directly out of the bowl.
“Before our soup was served, it looked as though you wanted to say something, Angela.” Elliot speaks with clarity. His hands steepled together under his chin, he is observant, I will give him that. This is where I need to decide if I come up with something else or just tell him what I am feeling?
“Elliot, I haven’t had a meal with a man in close to four years,” with the exception of Liam. of course, but I’m not going to bring him up again, not after the apparent jealousy that it caused in the car ride earlier today.
