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I hoped my mother's dated intel would lessen the blow of revealing that I was a fan of Cade’s, but I could already tell that she'd ruffled Jacob's feathers. The hand on my thigh retreated to his own and his jaw went tight as a bowstring.
"Well," Jacob said with a chuckle that he only used when he was pretending he found something amusing. "Maybe I should have made the time to meet the man of Leila's dreams."
I jabbed him with my elbow. "Don't be silly. You're the man of my dreams." When he looked at me for a heartbeat of a second, I could see the anger flash through his ice blue eyes.
The waiter returned to our table and I downed my drink in record time and held up a single finger. He gave me an abrupt nod and hustled away to get me another. Jacob didn't even touch his drink. He just kept his eyes forward, icing me out like I kept some great secret from him. I gave my mother a pointed look and she let out a nervous giggle.
"Well, um, what are you doing exactly? Another junket like Venice?"
I'd been hoping for a complete subject change, but as long as she wasn't singing 'Leila and Cade, sitting in a tree', I'd take it. "He actually has a film coming out soon, so we're working with him to set up media interviews and other promotional activities."
"A new movie?" she said brightly. "What's it called so Dad and I can be their opening night, bells and whistles on?"
I couldn't help but smile at her efforts. Even when she was being absolutely ridiculous and embarrassing me with impressive skill, she always found a way to make me lower my arms by reminding me how she supported me. "Soldier's Creed."
"That movies about 'Nam, right?"
Everyone turned to my dad, surprised he actually said enough words to string together a sentence.
He cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, clearly not a fan of being in the spotlight. "I remember seeing something about it in The Times." He passed the mic to my mother. "You remember that article, don't you Cheryl?"
"I sure do." She fondled with the pearls at her neck, a rueful look on her face. "It's just horrible what they did to that boy in the POW camp. For him to stay strong after all of that is amazing."
I nodded in agreement. After meeting Cade I'd read up about the film and the soldier's story that inspired it. After being captured by enemy forces, he'd endured unspeakable atrocities for months on end but he never gave in.
"Cade told me that they actually brought the soldier in as a consultant." I traced the stem of my martini glass. "As a vet, he seemed really moved by the story and honored to share it on the screen."
"Interesting," Jacob said beside me.
I turned to him, glad he was finally getting over it. "Yeah the story was really interesting."
"Oh I wasn't talking about the story." He gulped down a swallow of scotch. "I was referring to you being on a first name basis with a client. Kind of unprofessional, don't you think?"
Heat unfurled in my cheeks as I tried, and failed, to temper my response. "I referred to our last "client" by her first name on numerous occasions. And since you gave the go ahead to share with my folks, I really don't see what the big deal is."
But as soon as I was done, and saw the look on everyone's faces, I felt like the village idiot. The big deal was obvious.
Jacob was jealous.
****
Even though I knew my mother couldn't say no to anything dessert related, she acted like she was bursting at the seams and had zero interest in looking at their treats. At the start of the evening I'd wanted to hit fast forward but since Jacob had been given me a sneak peek of the epic fight we'd have tonight, suddenly I wasn't so excited about parting ways.
"You sure you don't want me to walk you out to your car?" I offered, trying to tuck a subliminal message in the words. "It's really no trouble."
My mother's lip smirked slightly as she shook her head. She got the message, but chose to ignore it. "That's alright, sweetie."
Dad rose up and shook Jacob's hand and waited while Mom gave Jacob another squeeze. She leaned down to my cheek and whispered, "Talk to him" before they hustled toward the exit.
‘Talk to him’? My date who'd gone from charismatic to quiet as the grave over some silly crush I had on Cade? I honestly didn't even know where to begin.
The waiter came back with Jacob's black visa card and he slipped it onto his money clip. I shook every drop of alcohol I could from my glass and still came up wanting. There would be no dulling the nerves that had taken up residence in the pit of my stomach.
"So are we going to talk about this?" I said finally, breaking the silence.
"Talk about what?" He chewed every word and spit them out, refuting the nonchalant question.
"About Cade." When he tensed, I added, "Mr. Wallace."
