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My cheeks heated unexpectedly. He’d called me on my rudeness, and of course I only realized it too late. “Sorry. That… that just slipped out.” I’d already failed in my resolve to be professional.
Jerome handed me the wine list and menu. “Would madam like to start with a glass of wine?” he asked, breaking the awkwardness between Evan and me.
“Sparkling water would be nice,” I said handing him back the wine list.
“The same for me, Jerome,” Evan said as he sat. “And the spring mix salad to start.”
It was my turn to mirror. Smiling up at Jerome I added, “I’ll start with that as well, please.” Another Sliphorm-ism: mirroring created empathy, and I needed all I could get for this large a gift.
I waited until Jerome departed to ask, “Come here often?” It hadn’t escaped my notice that Jerome didn’t have a nametag, yet Evan knew his name.
“On occasion.”
“You said pizza and beer.” I didn’t have to include the rest. We both knew he’d lied.
He shrugged. “They have beer, and there’s a caviar pizza on the menu—although I wouldn’t recommend it.”
I made a face. “Yeah. I’ll pass on that experience.”
Evan’s ice blue eyes held mine for a second. “I can tell you honestly, it was very nice to see you again the other day after all these years. It’s been entirely too long. I thought casual would appeal to you, and I’ll admit to being desperate for you to accept.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “It has been a long time,” I agreed, without spitting out that it hadn’t been long enough for me.
“Let me start by apologizing for my father,” he said. “He didn’t have bad intentions, but the way he handled himself—”
I put up my hand to stop him. “Let me save us some time here, McAllister. You don’t bother apologizing for your father, because we both know he meant to ruin my family. Your dad’s always been a…” I chose my next word carefully. “Dick, and always will be.” At least I hadn’t called his father the flaming asshole I knew him to be. “In return, I won’t pretend to forgive you, because I don’t give a shit about your father. How’s that?”
Evan actually had the audacity to look stunned. “Perhaps it’s best if we move on to the present.”
I’d said way much already. This meeting was about the children. I vowed to stay focused. “I’m sorry. That was how I felt at the time. But it’s history now, and you are not your father. Perhaps you and I should just let bygones be bygones.”Even if I don’t believe my own line about you being different from your father.
With a nod he agreed. “I can. Can you?”
The door opened, and Jerome reappeared with our sparkling waters, saving me from having to answer. He opened his pad. “Are you ready to order?”
I picked up the menu hadn’t opened yet and took a quick glance. The prices were ridiculous, and I panicked for a moment, unsure who was supposed to pay for this meal.
Evan glanced over, reading my mind, or maybe my expression. “Everything is excellent here, and since I selected the establishment, I’m paying.”
I nodded, hoping my relief didn’t show on my face.
After Jerome left with our orders of the beef tenderloin for Evan and lamb for me, Evan tore off a piece of bread and offered me the basket. “So, how are things with you?” Clearly one didn’t just jump into a million-dollar discussion.
Be civil, Alexa.“No complaints,” I said, ignoring that the garbage disposal in my kitchen had stopped working two weeks ago and the super hadn’t fixed it yet. Or that a small leak had developed in the unit above mine, resulting in an occasional drip from the ceiling in my bathroom, also not fixed. Complaints to the super hadn’t gone anywhere, and even the note I added to my landlord’s rent check had gotten it fixed. I’d moved my things to the other side of the counter to compensate. That’s what us poor people did. We adjusted and moved on. “How about you?”
An actual grimace appeared on his face. “I’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The words spouted out of my mouth on autopilot.
He buttered his slice of bread. “I suppose you saw the pictures.”
This was going in a much more real direction than I’d expected. I shrugged. “Sort of hard to miss.” I’d enjoyed that karma had finally caught up to him, but with the way his face contorted now, I almost felt sorry for him. “It must be a hard thing to deal with—the public scrutiny, I mean. I assume that’s why you’re in charge of charitable giving now.”
Jerome brought our salads, interrupting the conversation again. He left quickly after offering cracked pepper.
I settled my hands in my lap, closed my eyes and took three deep breaths.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
