“No problem, table for two, please.” I give her a wide grin, holding up two fingers, and I don’t miss the not so subtle eye roll she gives me.
“Through that door, Stephanie will sort you.” She points to a door across the bar.
“Thanks.”
"Two?” Beckett asks.
“Yes, come on. We’re having dinner.”
Chapter Six
Beckett
I think I got this girl all wrong. She’s got a quiet confidence and sass that I actually admire. I can see she’s trying to turn this day around for the both of us, and maybe, I should give her some grace and make some effort. I follow her like a lost puppy to the dining area, completely hypnotized by the sway of her hips in her tight, silver dress.
We are shown to a small table in the corner under a window that looks out at a blanket of snow. A large brick fireplace with a festive garland is the main feature of the room, next to the 10-foot Christmas tree decorated with twinkly gold lights and red bows. It’s a scene out of a picture book, and, thanks to the stunning blonde sat across from me, it is the first time today I haven't felt that pang of jealousy and emptiness that’s consumed me since I walked out of my apartment this morning.
“Oh my god, I’m starving,” Noelle moans as she flicks through the menu.
“I think I’m going to get the truffles to start, and then the steak and, oh, they have a mahogany cake.” There’s excitement in her tone.
“You like mahogany cake, huh?” I say, turning the pages of the leather menu.
“Yes, it’s what I have as my birthday cake each year.”
“Ah, yes, Christmas Day baby, right?”
She lifts her head from the menu and narrows her eyes. “You have a really good memory.”
“Thanks, it helps in my line of work,” I say without thinking.
“Oh, yeah? What do you do?’
“Security,” I confirm casually.
She peers over her menu. “Are you going to elaborate?”
“No,” I say, looking at the steak options.
“Mysterious, I like it.”
Oh, she has no idea.
The waiter took our orders, but since then we have avoided conversation and eye contact. I watch as she sips on her glass of champagne, twirling the stem between her elegant fingers.
“Don’t you find people fascinating?” she asks, looking over at the group of people. They are all wearing matching Christmas jumpers and scream ‘office party’.
“I suppose,” I say with a shrug.
“Like that couple over there. What do you think they are doing?”
I look over at where a man and woman sit, looking into each other's eyes with such intensity, I’m waiting for one of them to crawl across the table and devour the other. “Probably married and out for a Christmas meal.”
She shakes her head. “No, he has a tan line on his wedding finger. She has no ring. I bet they’re having an affair. He’s told the wife he has to work late, but really he’s taken his secretary out for a lavish meal and a quick fuck.”
“You got all that from just looking at them?” I ask, my tone amused, as I assess the couple in question.
“Yeah, and I bet he’s called Simon. It’s typical Simon behavior and she, she looks like a Lynsey.”
