He is not stopped.
Not even close.
I steer him toward our assigned table like I’m escorting a friendly but unpredictable animal.
He sits beside me.
Good. Seated is safer.
The table centerpiece is elaborate. Glass and candles and white flowers arranged with surgical precision.
Jake stares at it. Really stares at it.
Oh no.
His head tilts slightly.
“Wow,” he murmurs. He leans closer, eyes wide with genuine awe. “That’s… incredible.”
“It’s flowers,” I whisper.
He shakes his head slowly. “Look at the symmetry. It’s like angels sent it down just to make it this beautiful.”
I grab his hand under the table and squeeze hard.
He turns to me. His pupils are huge.
And then he smiles.
A full, open, completely unguarded smile.
It hits me straight in the chest.
“Just like you,” he says quietly with a puppy-dog expression on his face.
Dinner begins with a small appetizer.
Mercifully, the main course follows soon after.
Steak.
Thank God.
An actual portion.
Jake’s eyes light up.
He sits up straighter.
Then he proceeds to inhale it at a speed that makes Connor, two seats down, stare openly.
“Jesus,” Connor mutters. “When was the last time you ate?”
Jake doesn’t look up. “I only had a few gummies earlier. I’m starving.”
He gestures for a waiter. “Could I have some more of this excellent steak? It’s divine.”
The waiter hesitates. “Ahem. This isn’t an à la carte restaurant, sir. But I’ll go and check.”
