Heart's Surrender (19 page)

She couldn’t believe it. The little shithead was hitting on her while the woman he had betrayed his wife with was standing mere feet away. She wanted to throw up. “I really don’t want to go out with you or meet you or whatever.” She squared her shoulders. “Let me make it plain and clear. There is already someone else in my life, and I’m very thankful and happy about it. I am not lonely.”

His gaze hardened. “Really. Good for you. Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t.” She turned around and made her way to her family’s table, still fuming about Ben’s insolence. When was the last time the guy had looked into a mirror? The redhead surely wasn’t interested in his character, nor his body. And Winnie, good old Winnie had been left behind by this bastard. She plopped down on the wooden bench and stared at the hot dog before her.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Not really.” She grabbed the plastic cup that stood next to the hot dog. She took a gulp and set the cup back.

Sam’s expression became guarded. “All right.”

“Sorry, let’s talk about it later. Okay?” She hoped Sam understood that she wouldn’t discuss what had happened in front of the children.

“Who was that, Mom?” Michael asked.

“He worked with your dad.” She ruffled his hair. “And you know what? I just told him how happy I am to be here with you three.”

A small smile played around Sam’s lips. “Did you now?”

Gillian looked deep into her eyes. “Yes.”

Sam’s smile grew bigger. “That’s good. ‘Cause there’s a snake exhibition today where visitors are allowed to touch the snakes, and we just decided that’s where we
wanna
go next.”

CHAPTER 18

The sound of classical music drifted through the
room, accompanied by the murmur of other guests. Only the occasional clatter of cutlery on porcelain broke the peaceful atmosphere.
L’Aubergine
was a restaurant for lovers with a fondness for each other as well as outstanding food. And even though—tonight was on its way up on the list of Sam’s top ten most awkward dates ever.

A waiter hurried past, one plate in each hand. He set them down on a nearby table where a couple sat, easily chatting and enjoying each other’s company.

Sam balled her hand into a fist on her knee and stared at the small piece of salmon that was left on her plate. How did they end up like this? Where was the easy camaraderie Gillian and she had during their phone calls or the wonderful companionship they had shared at the zoo? Tonight felt like a bad movie and not like the date Sam had been looking forward to. She groaned inwardly, peeking at Gillian, who was concentrating on her Filet Mignon so hard that Sam was surprised the beef didn’t combust beneath her stare. Gillian looked so beautiful in her dark green dress. She was breathtaking. And quiet. As quiet as Sam, who cursed her inability to form deep and meaningful sentences.

The critiques had raved about L’Aubergin
e
. And it was great. The food was great. But it hadn’t taken five steps into the restaurant for Sam to realize that she shouldn’t have chosen this place. Being in an exclusive restaurant like that sure as hell put a knot in her stomach and in her brain. She had been so determined to find a place Gillian would enjoy that she had repressed her own distaste for everything rich and famous. The silence between them seemed louder to her than the background noise.
This is ridiculous.
Sam moved the salmon to the edge of her plate, not hungry anymore. She cleared her throat. “Good food, right?”

Gillian looked up with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Very good. Yes.” She glanced at Sam’s salmon before concentrating on her own food again.

The temptation to let her head fall face first onto the table rose by the second. She had to do something, be more eloquent or whatever. But how? She drummed her fingers on her pants. An idea popped into her head. This could backfire. Sure. But it could also save the evening. “Hey, Gillian?”

Tired green eyes stared back at her. “Yes?”

“How about a little game?”

Gillian tilted her head in the typical gesture that meant that she was confused. “A game?”

“Well, not really a game. How about we each get to ask two questions, nothing is off limits”

A frown appeared on Gillian’s face. “That’s not really a game. Unless there’s a bottle involved. And if I remember correctly someone always ends up naked and drunk.”

Sam grabbed her bottle of wine and held it up. “We do have a bottle. But there’s no need to get drunk.”

For a moment Gillian simply studied her, then set her fork down. “All right. Any question is allowed?”

Hesitating for a moment Sam finally said, “Yes.”
Please don’t let me regret this.
She wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her trousers.

“Can I go first?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Sam held her breath.

Gillian pursed her lips and cocked an eyebrow. “Right. How about favorite writer and genre?”

Surprise and relief fluttered in Sam’s chest. She hadn’t expected this one. “Seriously? You can ask me anything you want and you go for reading material?”

“Yes. Consider it a warm-up for my next one.” There was a twinkle in Gillian’s eyes.

“Okay. Favorite writer…can I choose two?”

“Sure. Two are okay.”

The first one was easy. The second one was a close race between two female writers. In the end she chose the one that would go with one of her favorite genres. “Neil Gaiman and Tracy Chevalier.”

“I’ve heard of Neil Gaiman but who is Tracy Chevalier?”

“She writes wonderful historical fiction.”

“So, I guess that historical fiction is one of your favorite genres?”

“Yes. Fantasy, in particular urban fantasy and historical fiction. Well researched historical fiction, I might add. Some of that stuff is just so badly researched that I get a rash reading it. But if it is well researched and well written…” Sam grinned, “then I’m sold.”

Gillian took a sip of her wine before she said, “I was surprised that you own so many books. The shelves in your living room are better stocked than a small town library.”

A sharp comment tingled on Sam’s tongue but she swallowed it down. How often had she run into the prejudice that just because she worked with her hands people supposed that watching television, drinking beer, and belching was her favorite pastime? “Yes, I do like to read.”

Gillian leaned back on her chair, the laugh lines around her eyes deepening. “Angela is the bookworm in our family. She goes through books like other children go through videogames. And I’m a sucker for autobiographies these days.”

The waiter chose that moment to come over and pick up their plates. “Would you like dessert? We have a wonderful cheesecake tonight. Or maybe some homemade ice-cream?”

Sam looked at Gillian. “Would you like to share something?”

“I’m positively stuffed.” She laid a hand on her stomach. “Maybe an espresso?”

Sam smiled at the waiter. “Make that two espressos, please.”

With a nod he was gone.

“So, is it my turn for a question?” Sam ran her fingers over the tablecloth.

“Yes.”

She didn’t have to think hard about this one. “Okay, then tell me the most embarrassing moment in your life.”

“That’s not really a question.”

Sam shrugged. “Okay, allow me to rephrase. What was the most embarrassing moment in your life?”

“Hard to choose. I’ve had a few. And the feeling of what was exactly the most embarrassing does change from time to time.” Her brow furrowed so much that her eyebrows nearly touched. Then she smiled. “I think that one of the most embarrassing moments of my life was when Michael made Derrick’s mother regret that she had grandchildren.”

Sam muffled the sound of her laughter with the napkin. This sounded like a very promising story indeed. “What did he do?”

“Michael was three when we were invited to one of Margret’s awful tea parties. She hosts them a few times each year and I have the suspicion that she keeps a list of the most boring people alive. The main reason for her parties is to show off her house and her family so we were invited—with children.”

The waiter appeared with their espressos.

“Thank you.” Sam inhaled the wonderful aroma that drifted from the cup. She dumped two spoons of sugar into it.

Gillian shook her head but didn’t comment.

“What?”

“I think there’s an equal portion of sugar and coffee in that cup now.”

“That’s just the way I like it. Hot and sweet.” She winked at Gillian and wasn’t surprised when the expected blush appeared. “So, what happened to make grandmother go bonkers?”

Gillian downed her espresso in one go, without adding sugar to it. “Nice. Well, Michael was terribly bored that afternoon and I was distracted by something. Anyhow, he suddenly showed up with his little feet stuck in high heels that he found somewhere, ran a few steps, bumped into and smashed a very expensive Chinese vase.”

“Oh. Bad.” Sam chuckled.

“Yes. But that’s not the best part of the story.”

Sam leaned forward. “Yes?”

“He was sitting on the floor, crying. I couldn’t lift him up since I had a broken arm, thanks to a stupid accident. So I asked my mother-in-law, who stood next to me, to check if he was okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I only had to ask twice before she finally complied.” Gillian’s smile could positively be described as devilish.

“Go on.”

“Michael threw up all over her.”

“Oh God.” Sam laughed so hard, she had tears in her eyes.

“Twice.”

“Unbelievable.” That must have been a sight. “Did she make child-kebab out of him?”

Now it was Gillian’s turn to laugh. “No. She didn’t lay a hand on him. But she was not amused. And all I wanted was to disappear—in a cloud of smoke or something equally desirable. I can laugh about it today but at that moment I was so devastated and embarrassed.”

A few guests stared over at their table. Sam didn’t care. She was having fun and they were finally talking. It was great.

Gillian tipped her espresso cup at Sam. “So, my turn again?”

Sam steeled herself against the next question; pretty sure that whatever would come wouldn’t be as easy to answer as the first one. “Yes. Go on.”

“Since we’re talking about family…” Gillian’s voice was gentle. “Tell me a bit more about yours?”

Sam’s stomach tightened. She crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s not much to tell.”

“I don’t want to overstep. Sorry.”

Shit.
Sam really didn’t want to talk about her childhood, her teenage years, or her family at all. What she wanted even less, however, was to go back to how the evening was before they started their little game. She wanted to move forward—with Gillian. “It’s all right. It’s just a topic I don’t like to talk about. Anything specific you’d like to know?”

“I heard from Thomas that you have a…strained relationship with them?”

Sam snorted. “I’m sure that’s not how he described it.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“So, what did he say?”

“Not much. He mentioned that you never had a good relationship with your father. That you spent time hiding in the garage. With Thomas. And that…that your father hurt you.”

Sam nodded and began to peel the label off the wine bottle. “He did. Yes.” She really, really didn’t want to talk about it. But she couldn’t condemn Gillian for wanting to know. Sam took a deep breath to center herself. “My father and I haven’t spoken to each other since I left home.”

Gillian reached across the table and put her hand over Sam’s. “At seventeen?”

Sam narrowed her eyes and stared at the warm, soft hand that covered hers before looking up again.

A flash of hurt crossed Gillian’s face. She started to pull her hand away.

You idiot.
“No.” Sam grabbed her hand. “No. Sorry, I love to touch you and be touched. I just…” She looked around and tried to gauge if the other guests paid any attention to them. Lowering her head, Sam finally said, “I wasn’t sure if you had forgotten that we are in a public place.”

“No, I didn’t forget. I just decided that I don’t want to care about things like that anymore.”

Sam blinked. Twice. Gillian was really moving out of her comfort zone—date in a restaurant, touching Sam in public. Maybe it was time to do the same. She wouldn’t go into details. Not here. Not tonight. “Did Thomas tell you about me leaving at seventeen?” She ran a thumb over the soft skin of Gillian’s hand.

“No, you did.”

“Oh, right.” Sam nodded slowly.
How did I forget about that?
Rolling her shoulders to get rid of the tension, she said, “I don’t exist for my father anymore. Which is just fine with me. I’ll be happy if I never have to see him again. He left my mother around ten years ago. I have no contact with her either. She’s a very religious person. And there’s a brother who is a successful investment banker and a total moron. No contact there either.” Sam hated the bitterness in her voice. “And then there’s my younger sister. Victoria. And her daughter, Chloe.”

“You are in contact with them, right?”

Sam grinned. “Yes. And it eats my father alive that I’m Chloe’s godmother.”

“Did you stay in contact with your sister after you left home?”

Sam shook her head. “No. Victoria is five years younger than me. But she reached out to me before Chloe was born. I promise to tell you the whole sordid story one day. Victoria can be very determined. And we do have a close relationship. She’s not only my sister but also my friend. And Chloe…she’s great. I think that Michael and Angela would like her.”

“We should get them together someday.”

Sam smiled. “Yes, we should. Maybe another visit to the zoo?”

“That is a great idea.”

They smiled at each other, their hands still linked on the table.

“So, is it my turn to ask another embarrassing question?” Sam teased.

“Yes, but that this is your last one for tonight.”

“Let’s see.” Sam hesitated for a moment. But she needed to know, even if it was totally stupid. “How did you meet Derrick?”

Gillian was silent for a moment before she said, “He was my boss. At the law firm.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “I was his secretary. Which is pretty clichéd, right? And let me assure you that my former job didn’t really make me the most attractive daughter-in-law for his parents.”

“You were a secretary?”

“Yes. I’m one of those secretaries who married her boss.”

“Oh.” Gillian had been a secretary.
She married her boss.

“You look as if I just told you that I’m pregnant.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I’m joking. I’m not pregnant.” Gillian chuckled. “You should see your face.”

A myriad of emotions and thoughts tumbled through Sam. A secretary. Not a lawyer herself or a…whatever rich girls studied.
I’m really, really an ass.
She realized that she had fallen into the same kind of thinking that she hated from other people, to assume things about someone else without having any idea about his or her background.
That’s what assholes do.
She gathered the remains of her dignity. “Good, I prefer you being a secretary to you being pregnant.”

“That’s a sentiment that I share. Two children are great but absolutely enough.” Gillian got up from her chair and winked at Sam. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

What a night. Sam ran a hand through her hair. She was still processing the fact that Gillian had been her husband’s employee. Weird. In Sam’s experience rich people married rich people—especially those coming from old money. So what had possessed Derrick to marry Gillian? What kind of guy had he been?
I guess that’s a question for another time.