Chapter 19
Lexie
This restaurant is beautiful. Stunning is a better word for it. It feels warm and homey with the wooden ceiling and earthy colors throughout the place. It feels cozy while still giving you the distinct impression that you’re somewhere special. But, I think I’ve offended Gabriel. When I return from the restroom, I find him pouting near the bar area. I didn’t mean to ignore him as he talked about his design; I just needed the ladies room, urgently.
“Your restaurant is beautiful, Gabriel.” I step up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
This seems to appease his ego a little bit because he smiles down at me. “Thank you.”
I’m about to ask him what kind of food they have here when an older man steps up to Gabriel. “Gabriel, it’s wonderful to see you again,” the man says in a thick accent.
When Gabriel responds, he does so in another language. “Bonsoir Monsieur Souvoir. C'est merveilleux de te revoir aussi.”
Then the man replies, "Ah, excellent, votre français est bien amélioré."
I’d love to tell you that I understood what they were talking about but I don’t. All I hear is gibberish. I’m not going to lie, though, hearing Gabriel speak another language is pretty darned sexy.
"Bien sûr, j'ai pratiqué," replies Gabriel.
My head keeps moving back and forth between the men. Part of me wants to be introduced so I can hear my name in the mix, but I stay quiet.
"Avez-vous un client avec vous ce soir?"
Gabriel looks at me then back at the man, "Oui, ils sont en retard."
Ooh, it’s French. He’s speaking French. I’ve heard ‘wee’ before.
“Eh bien, allons-y tout de suite, je vais être sûr que tu seras pris en charge ce soir.”
"Mercie."
I know that one too. It means thank you. Gabriel takes my hand and leads me through the restaurant to a pretty little room with a small, round table and four chairs. “Have a wonderful dinner.” The man says as he departs. I look around and see that it feels like we’re in a dining room of a fancy French house. There are even glass doors that can close to give us more privacy.
“This is cool, Gabriel. And you speak French?”
“A little bit. I needed to learn some of the language before I could understand what Monsieur Souvoir wanted for his restaurant. The language barrier was a problem, initially.”
“So, you learned French?”
“Oui,” he says with a chuckle.
Gabriel holds my chair out for me but before I can sit down a man about the same age as my dad, so around age sixty, and a woman who is probably younger than me walks into the room. I can tell the guy is older thanks to his gray hair and receding hairline. He’s wearing a nice suit, but his belly is protruding just like dad’s as well. He raises his hand out for Gabriel, and they shake. Ah, these must be the important clients.
I look over at the young woman who has to be his daughter. Right? She’s really beautiful. Tall and slim with long brown hair highlighted with blonde, she’s wearing a tiny, red mini dress that sparkles as she moves and shows off the longest legs I’ve ever seen. My eyes follow them down to deep red stilettos with a floral applique on the front. Hells bells, they’ve got to be six inches high. “Wow, your shoes are amazing.”
When she doesn’t reply, I look back up at her face, and I’m a little surprised by what I see. She’s looking down at me, lips pursed like she’s annoyed. “Do you work here?”
“Uh…”
“Let me introduce you to my girlfriend. Bill, this is Lexie.”
Bill wraps his arm around his companion and pulls her into his side. “And this little spitfire is my wife, Tanya.”
Wife? Seriously? She’s got to be twenty if she’s a day. Tanya holds her hand out for Gabriel who kisses it. She simpers and coos at him like a cat in heat, while ignoring me completely. Bypassing any other introductions taking my seat at the table.
I guess we’re sitting. And not in the right order. Around the table, the order is Gabriel, Tiffany, myself, and Bill which means I’m sitting across from Gabriel, not next to him. I don't like it. Having him next to me I feel safer, more secure. This way, my back is to the entrance of the room, and that makes me feel vulnerable for some reason. Yeah, I know I'm irrational. Sue me.
When a server enters the room, he hands us each a giant menu. If I had to guess, I’d say the thing was two feet high and the same width when it’s open. It’s huge. Next, our waiter takes our drink order. Each of the other people at the table orders a cocktail, but I choose to go for the gusto, “Whiskey. Neat, please.”
