Nadim took the baby from Reena. “Okay, but you stay and eat,” Nadim said. “It’s on us. I feel bad that we’re all leaving.”
Ruby waved her head. “Nonsense. I had a great time anyway. I don’t mind eating alone.” That was the truth. Ruby had long ago figured out that she would never be able to eat at any of the gorgeous restaurants she saw on Instagram if she wasn’t willing to eat alone. “Go, seriously. I’m fine.”
Reena finally hugged Ruby goodbye and rushed out after her husband and child.
Sighing, Ruby went back to the hostess station to tell her that their table for eight was now a table for one.
“My friends had to leave,” Ruby explained. “Their kids were overstimulated from the parade.”
The hostess nodded, looking at the monitor on the counter. “So, you need a table for one?”
Ruby was about to say yes when someone behind her spoke for her.
“Two,” a deep voice said. “I’ll be joining her.”
She turned, and yep, Rashid was still here.Great.
RUBY SHOOK HER HEADat Rashid. She still wanted—needed—to be somewhat nice to the man so he wouldn’t bad-mouth her to the rest of his family, but she didnotwant to eat a meal with him. Alone. “I’m fine. Go with your sister. Your nieces need you.”
He shook his head. He still wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t scowling, either. “I was buckling the girls in when we saw Reena and Nadim heading to their car. Jasmine insisted that I couldn’t leave you all alone.”
“I can eat alone. The girls are sick, and your sister—”
“My sister can manage her daughters’ stomachaches. She’s a doctor, remember?”
“Yes, but two doctors are better than one! I’m sure two dermatologists are as good as one…” She frowned. “What’s a stomach doctor?”
“Gastroenterologist,” the restaurant hostess said. She looked very invested in this interaction. “So, table for one or two?”
“Two,” Rashid said. Then he turned to Ruby. “Unless youreallydon’t want to have a meal with me. Then we’ll need two tables for one.”
The hostess shook her head. “I doubt we’ll be able to swing that. We don’t actually have tables for one—so we’d need two tables for two, and there are a lot of people waiting. I have one table for two now, and since you gave up that table for eight which was really two tables for—”
Ruby sighed. “One table for two is fine. Separate bills.” She’d eat with the man, but the last thing she wanted was for either of them to owe the other anything.
“Good choice,” the hostess said, taking two menus from the stack behind her, and motioned for them to follow her. “My name’s Claudia. Thank me at your wedding. This way, please.”
They were brought to a table in front of a large window overlooking the busy street. This place totally deserved its Instagram fame. The tile floor, rattan chairs, and plethora of potted plants made Ruby feel like she was actually in a bistro in Paris. Not that she’d ever been to a bistro in Paris—or anywhere else in Paris. But that would soon change. After she moved, visiting Paris would be easy.
The table was small, though. Intimate. She opened the drink menu—Ruby definitely would need alcohol to get through dinner with Dr. Rash.
Rashid finally pulled his hat off before sitting. He had thick, wavy black hair that was a little long on the top with a tiny bit of graying at the temples… which made him look older. Or actually look his age. She squeezed her lips shut so she wouldn’t tell him how much more handsome he was without that hat and quickly skimmed the offerings on the drink menu.
“Ah, they have cute winter cocktails! Should I have a black rose or a French martini? The black rose is pink, not black, but ooh… the French martini is made with black raspberry liqueur. The rich red is even prettier than the pink! They should switch the names of the cocktails, don’t you think? That’s what I’m getting—the French martini.” She closed the drinks menu. Rashid was looking at her curiously. “Oh, wait—Do you mind if I drink? You said you weren’t really religious, but I mean, there are lots of reasons why people abstain, not just religion. I drink—not that much, though.” Ruby forced herself to stop talking.
“It’s fine. I was going to have a beer. Did you decide on the drink because it’sattractive?”
Ruby nodded. She wasn’t going to let this guy get under her skin. No matter how hard he tried. “Yup. What can I say? I like pretty things. And descriptive colors.”
The waitress came to get their drinks order then, and Ruby ordered her French martini. Rashid ordered a local microbrew.
After the waitress left, Ruby read the dinner menu. She’d looked at the menu online before making the reservation, so she already knew what she wanted—the roasted apple, chestnut, and Camembert tartine. But hiding behind a menu was a good way to avoid the small talk she didn’t want to have. Her runaway mouth had embarrassed herself enough for the night.
“Did you find something suitably attractive on the menu?” Rashid asked.
“Yes. I’m having a tartine,” she said, smiling. When he didn’t say anything, she specified. “It’s like a French open-faced sandwich. Not like the Swedish ones. They use a rustic country bread instead of rye. I’m thinking the apple tartine.”
“I know what a tartine is,” he said curtly. He was still looking at his menu and not at her. She had to agree with his sister: Rashid Hakim had no talent for hospitality. She felt sorry for his patients.
