“Harvey,” I hissed, trying to get him to stop talking loudly. “It’s okay. She’s going to fix it.”
“No, it’s not!” Harvey said. “And you’d better shut up. You know nothing about how restaurants should be run.”
There was an itch in the back of my throat that I couldn’t seem to clear. My fingers twitched, and I wished that I could force them into a fist that would land a punch neatly onto this man’s perfectly groomed stubble.
Before I could act, a pair of feet stomped next to our table, and a warm voice—one that I’d once known so well—spoke. “Really?” Desmond’s brown eyes were hard as they looked at Harvey. “Are you really going to speak to your date like that?”
His voice, deep and somber, seemed to irk me more than his presence. I felt miserable that he had to witness me in my humiliation while on a bad date.
Go away, handsome man who I wish were just a handsome stranger. Go away and take that hypnotic, comforting voice with you.
Harvey gazed at Desmond’s sleek navy-blue suit and then back at him. His voice dropped a few notches. “Uh … and you are?”
“A man whocanspeak to a woman with respect.” Desmond turned to me, looking at me kindly. He held his arm out. “I have a car waiting for us outside, Ava. If you will join me?”
My eyes widened as I registered that Desmond was giving me an out. I didn’t have to deal with drunk Harvey or the scene he was creating here.
I suddenly liked Desmond a lot more.
Harvey cleared his throat and looked at Desmond. And then back at me. Going by how Desmond was looking pleasantly, intently at me, Harvey was probably wondering how to take charge of this conversation that very plainly excluded him.
I set my fork down and lifted my chin up. I picked up myhandbag and took a step away before I turned around to face Harvey.
“Never ever tell a woman to shut up,” I said, my voice clear. I was almost proud of myself for not shaking in my shoes at Harvey’s thunderous gaze.
I put my hand in Desmond’s outstretched one, and we walked between the tables.
“Oh my God, Ava, I’m so sorry,” Stella groaned, clutching her empty tray as we passed the bar. We could still hear Harvey complaining loudly about the terrible service at this place. “I shouldn’t have given him that last refill.”
The restaurant manager showed up, and Desmond began to explain the situation to him.
I turned back to Stella. “Don’t worry,” I said while she darted anxious looks between the manager and me. “Harvey showed up to the date tipsy as hell and hid it very well. Here,” I said, digging into my purse and coming up with a twenty-dollar bill. “Thank you for helping me tonight. You’re a fantastic server, Stella, and don’t let that miserable man convince you otherwise.”
She nodded, her fingers clasping the bill just as the manager hiked up his pants and walked up to Harvey, his jaw set. Stella breathed a sigh of relief just as I exchanged a look with Desmond. He gave me a comforting smile, which I understood to mean that Stella wouldn’t get in trouble with her boss. Thank goodness.
Desmond and I walked toward the restaurant door among stares from the other patrons. I felt my knees wobble at the silence in this place. Most of the people didn’t know what had happened. They probably thought I’d created a scene and was walking out. I looked up at Desmond when we’d taken only five steps out, and he looked down and seemed to realize what was going through my mind.
He gave me a smile. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle in the silent restaurant.
I held his gaze as I nodded. He clasped my hand while leading the way out.
But the moment they saw Desmond smile at me, people’s attitudes changed. They seemed to return to their meals, to their conversations, and I wasn’t an object of pity, someone to be stared at anymore.
We stepped out of the restaurant, and I exhaled. I ran my hand over my eyes before rubbing my forehead just as Desmond said, “My car’s here. I can see you home.”
I nodded when something hit me. I turned back to the restaurant. “Isn’t your date back there, waiting for you?” I asked.
He grinned and held the back door of the sleek gray car open for me. “I wasn’t on a date, Ava. Sean’s a friend. He understands. Please get in,” he said.
So, he hadn’t been eating with that beautiful woman I’d seen earlier. My evening felt slightly less miserable as I got in, and after shutting the door behind me, Desmond walked over to the other side. His driver shut the door after him as Desmond sat down next to me.
“Where do you want to go?” Desmond asked.
“Home,” I breathed out.
Thankfully, it wasn’t too far. If the driver hurried, I could still be in time to help Mrs. Wilson with her night shift at The Bowery Mission’s soup kitchen. After the day I’d had, I needed to do something normal. I simply wasn’t ready to date yet, and this horrible dinner event had been the sign I needed to see.
“It’s 54 Elizabeth Street in Chinatown, please,” I clarified to the driver as the car moved away from the curb.
