He didn’t look pleased with my answer, but he wasn’t going to argue. “So, you’ve never been to an actual sushi restaurant?”
“No. They’re expensive. Especially around here.”
“I’ll take you to Sobu’s,” he stated, looking determined. “You’ll like it. It’s family-owned, and they don’t try to impress anyone. They just make good sushi.”
I smiled faintly. “That sounds nice.”
“It is. They don’t pack the tables together, either. You get space and time, unlike in those high-end sushi places in which you only get to stay two hours before you have to give up the table for the next guests.”
I scrunched my nose. “Those are the worst places.”
“Agreed.”
We hit a red light and rolled to a stop. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his posture relaxed as if he hadn’t been physically active all afternoon. As intrigued as I was, this wasn’t the right time to ask him how he was able to go so many hours without taking a break during sex. It already looked exhausting, and the three of them went on for hours.
Instead of asking the question, I stayed quiet.
“Did you start writing the essay?” His voice cut through the silence.
I looked over at him and shook my head. “I’ve only transferred the questions and answers onto my laptop so far.”
“How many words does it need to be again?”
“Three thousand.”
“You’ll definitely manage to write that many words with all the info you got.”
“Oh, yes, for sure,” I said, looking up front again as he did the same when the light turned green. “I might have to exceed the expected word count.”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine.”
“Probably.”
We reached downtown after another five minutes. Callan turned into a narrow side street, then pulled into a small lot behind a beige brick building.
“This is it,” he said. “Sobu’s.”
He parked in a spot and shut the engine off, then looked over at me, waiting for some cue that I was ready to get out.
I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Let’s go in. I’m excited. And hungry.”
He nodded and stepped out. I followed him, shutting the door behind me before falling into step with him. He guided us to the entrance, and I immediately noticed how calm the place was. There was soft music playing in the background, and warm lighting filling the restaurant. I quickly felt comfortable and at ease.
A woman behind the counter looked up and nodded at him with familiarity but without excitement. “Good evening.”
“Hey, Emiko. How are you doing?”
“Good,” Emiko replied as she walked around the counter. She smiled, then looked at me with a pleased expression. “Who is this?”
I smiled at her. “I’m Lana. Nice to meet you.”
“She’s my ex-wife’s daughter,” Callan explained.
I tensed, hating the reality of it, but also accepting the simple truth. He didn’t have to lie to her or complicate things.
Emiko kept her eyes on me, noticing my reaction. She moved the conversation right along when she saw how uncomfortable Callan’s words made me and flicked her gaze to him. “Eating in or taking away?”
“We’ll be eating here.”
