My cheeks burn, but I play it cool.“No, it’s okay,” I reassure him with a small wave of my hand.“James is very loyal to The Sterling.”
A little too loyal, I think, picturing the dark, opulent, all black and gold interior of that place.It is a far cry from the understated elegance of this restaurant.
“Of course, The Sterling,” Matthew repeats with a gruff, curt chuckle.“How about you?”
“Me?”I frown.
“What do you like, Amy?”He leisurely studies my features with a soft smile.
I blink, startled.
With James, it’s always about the right look, the most popular place, never really about what we like, let alone what I like.
I press my lips into a tight line as I fidget with my engagement ring.“It’s more about the who than the where for me,” I reply after taking a moment.
He tilts his head, his eyes softening in silent encouragement.
“I’ve sat in the simplest places with some remarkable people.And I’ve sat in some remarkable places with the simplest people.”I shrug.
A beat of silence hangs between us, filled only with the quiet hum of the restaurant.Then, as if the words are pulled from him against his will, he murmurs, “Why James?”
“Excuse me?”My eyes widen.
Before Matthew can say another word, a waiter approaches our table.“Good evening,” he says with a professional smile.“Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“No, thank you.I won’t be staying,” I reply, earning an unimpressed look from Matthew.
“Cocktail or wine, Amy?”he asks, ignoring what I just said.
“Neither,” I insist.
“I should let you know that the bartender here tonight makes the best martinis,” the waiter interjects.
Matthew orders, raising two fingers, “Two vodka martinis, three olives in each.Thank you, Josh.”
“Sure thing, Mr.Warren—”
“I’ll have a glass of Merlot,” I interrupt.
Josh sends a quick glance at Matthew before repeating, “Alright.One vodka martini and one glass of Merlot.And I’ll return shortly for your food order.”
“Thank you,” we reply in almost perfect unison.
Josh retreats, leaving us glaring at one another.
Matthew breaks first.“Why are you so worked up over such a simple question?”
“Simple question?”I repeat.
“Technically, yes.”He shrugs.
I cross my arms and turn to the window, finding it hard to believe we’re even having this conversation right now.
“Why can’t you just answer the question?”Matthew presses on.
My eyes snap back to his.“Just because you saved me from an angry James in my office doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about us.”
“It’s really not a complicated question,” he counters.
