Page 92 of Lovestruck at Sundown
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from eliciting a reaction that would give away my cluelessness about the existence of said Agent Hawthorne and the fact that he’d been following me around without my knowledge.
Aaron had better start praying if he knew about this and failed to inform me.
A pile of figurative bricks had been dumped on top of me, and yet I managed to smile and nod. I couldn’t show a sliver of weakness in front of my dad.
“And here I was thinking you wanted less security,” my dad said with a chuckle and a subtle shake of his head, irony oozing out of every word. “Not more.” He turned to William and nodded once. “But I’m thankful all the same.”
I dragged air into my lungs, quietly disappointed in William for not telling me himself and having to find out through my father. “I don’t even notice his presence.” I smiled, signaling the server for a refill. “Agent Hawthorne is stealthy and knows how to keep a low profile.” I brushed William’s hand off my leg. It was all I could do to show him I was very upset, even if I was going along with it.
Our server brought my wine and dessert, but I skipped thelatter. All I wanted was for dinner to end already so William and I could go home and talk. The night had been a disaster so far. I didn’t even know why I thought spending Christmas Eve with my dad was a good idea after how awful Thanksgiving had been. Bringing William only made things worse. I hated myself for wanting my dad’s approval and him for not even trying to make our father-daughter relationship work.
“Oh, wow!” A man yelled from afar. “Is that William Sjöberg?” I turned to see a chef rushing our way.
“Excuse me.” William pushed his chair back with an open laugh and rose from his seat. “Gustav!”
The chef, Gustav, approached William and embraced him with a few hearty pats on the back. They slapped each other’s shoulders and started chatting in Swedish. It never ceased to impress me how William knew someone everywhere he went. He had so many friends and acquaintances.
All eyes were on William’s interaction with the chef, and I could see a few people aiming their phones at them, some more discreet than others.
“William’s a great chef, you know?” I said to my dad, not only to fill the stifling silence but because it was the truth. He needed to know there was more to William than his judgment-filled conception of him. And even if I was angry and disappointed in William for having withheld information from me regarding his bodyguard following me around in secret, I still had this sick need for my father’s approval.
“A cook, you mean?” my dad countered, lifting his glass to his lips and draining his drink. “Chef titles are reserved for those who graduate from culinary school.”
That couldn’t be any farther from the truth. Being a chef is about talent and dedication to the culinary craft, and William possessed both. Not that I would argue about this with myfather. Instead, I snorted with evident disgust and shook my head, utterly disappointed in him. I leaned in to whisper, “Why do you hate him so much?” It was impossible to remove the edge of sadness from my voice.
“I don’t. I’m just trying to make you see he’s not the kind of man you want as a partner and that it’s clear to me it won’t work out between you,” he said casually. “You might think it will now because you’ve been dating for a few months, and he’s been away for half the time.” He signaled a server to approach and ordered more water. “And this is the first time you’ve dined out in public with him, haven’t you?”
We had before, in Tel Aviv, but he was right; this was our first public outing here in New York. Dinner at Pocantico Hills a few days back had been a private event, so it didn’t count either.
“It is,” I replied as calmly as I could. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“People will constantly invade your privacy and personal space whenever you’re with him,” my dad affirmed, so sure of himself as if he were in possession of a crystal ball and had the sudden ability to see our future. “And you will grow tired of it. I know how much you value your privacy.”
William returned before I could reply. My dad wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know, but the added assumptions of how those things would make me feel or affect our relationship were unwarranted. And repetitive. We’d already had this conversation on more than one occasion. There was nothing he could say to make me change my mind about wanting to be with William.
At the same time, it’s not like William and I were planning to go out for regular walks in Times Square. I was sure that we were more than capable of having a social life without having his celebrity status interfering in a way that was detrimental to ourrelationship. Having a few people try to approach the table to greet him wasn’t something I couldn’t deal with.
“Sorry. Gustav’s a friend from culinary school,” William explained after retaking his seat at the table. “I didn’t know he worked here. I hadn’t seen him in years.”
I smiled and nodded even if I was furious at him, but I had to pretend otherwise until we were alone.
“Kudos to your friend.” My dad sipped on his water and signaled the server to bring over the check with a sway of his fingers. “This is one of my favorite restaurants in the city.”
The food was great, and I would’ve commented on it, but I was done for the day. It was foolish of me to think dinner would go well. All I could think of was asking William about his security team following me without my knowledge.
William tried to capture my hand under the table, but I didn’t allow his fingers to intertwine with mine. Instead, I crossed my arms loosely in front of my stomach.
The server left the check on the table, and William and my dad reached out for it at the same time, but my dad was quicker. He opened the leather bill folder and said as he inspected the ticket, “Billie was telling me you love cooking but weren’t able to graduate?” He pulled out his wallet from his pants pocket and met William’s gaze.
“I did not say that,” I intervened, widening my eyes at my dad. I was going to start defending William, but he was faster to speak.
“It wasn’t a matter of ability,” William retorted. “Ichosenot to graduate to pursue acting full time.”
“Ah, I see.” My dad tossed his credit card inside the bill folder and closed it, setting it on the table again. “You were so close to graduating, though. I believe it would’ve brought you great satisfaction to do so. But I guess some people find it easier to change their minds abruptly and leave things unfinished.Sometimes out of fear of commitment or a desire to move on to something new out of boredom.”
“Dad,” I warned. “That’s enough.” The only thing stopping me from getting up and leaving was that I didn’t want to make a scene when most people at the restaurant couldn’t stop staring at our table or pointing their phones at us.
The server took the bill folder with my dad’s credit card and left.
