Page 47 of The Press Secretary's Passion
I just smile politely as a hostess from the establishment opens the door for me.
“Good evening, Ms. Fairchild. Your table is right this way,” she says as she leads me to a table next to the front window. It looks like it has an excellent view of the city, but it can also be seen from the front of the building, which sits on a corner lot.
“Thank you,” I reply.
“Julia,” Gil says, standing as I approach the table. “You look lovely as always.”
“Thank you, brother dear.” I pop a kiss to his cheek and let him help me with my chair.
I unfold my napkin and drop it in my lap. I know the menu by heart here, so I know exactly what I’m going to get, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day. Not to mention, this is my first time out of my house during my imposed isolation to avoid the media. Although that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen Ryan. And I mean I’ve seenallof Ryan over the last few nights. I just can’t help myself.
“So what’s good here?” Gill asks. “Everyone swears this is the place to go to in D.C.”
“It’s fantastic,” I tell him. “I eat here at least three times a month.”
“Are you ready to order?” a waitress asks as she steps up to our table with a smile on her face.
“I am if you are, Gil.”
“Sure,” he says good-naturedly. “You go first, and I’ll be ready by the end.”
“I’ll have the chicken napoleon please,” I say, handing the waitress my menu. It’s this amazing chicken and mushrooms in a creamy sundried tomato sauce over penne pasta with cheeses melted on top. I get it every time I come here.
“Is that wise?” Gil asks me under his breath.
“And a house salad to start,” I add, rolling my eyes.
“Better.” He chuckles. “I’ll have the grilled chicken and steamed vegetables,” he orders. “No sauce, no rice or pasta.”
“Coming right up,” she says before walking away, and I can barely hold back the disgusted look on my face. Why anyone would order food that boring, I have no idea.
“What?” He laughs. “It’s not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” I ask in a mock shocked tone.
“It’s healthy,” he replies with a smile on his face. “It wouldn’t look good if I got a gut. You could probably use to eat a vegetable every now and then too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask quietly. This is the first time Gil has even been critical of me outwardly in any way, and I’m not sure I like it.
“It just means I love you, and I want you to be healthy and live a long time,” he says.
“Well, I’ll have you know I eat boring food like that all the time, but this is the one place I let myself have my favorite meal.”
“Good,” he says softly, patting my hand where it rests on the table. “You should have something that brings you joy.”
“There are a lot of things that bring me joy in my life,” I tell him as the waitress sets my salad down in front of me.
“Like what?” he asks as I push the lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and croutons covered in dressing around on my plate.
“I love my job,” I admit, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “I love my friends, and I’m very close with them. I’m even planning a trip to visit Angie in Texas.”
“But you have nothing of your own,” he says, and I have to admit it stings. Hearing my beloved brother voice my own inner demons does not feel good. I had always considered my life to be full, but now that I’m living a life in half measures with Ryan, I can’t help but wonder if that’s really the truth after all.
“I have a full life,” I explain. “Cara’s daughter Rachel is at such a fun age, and Grace is having a baby this year. Not to mention, Angie has Joy.”
“But those are their children. Don’t you want any of your own some day?” he asks as the waitress sets out meals down in front of us.
“I do,” I admit as I toy with my dinner. “Someday.”
