They drank more of their champagne, and then their waiter was there depositing their starter plates, refilling their flutes, gliding away again. All around was the sound of the other diners settling into their gourmet meals, the murmur of conversation, and on the far side of the dining room, where a second set of double doors opened widely out into the hall beyond, was a pianist sitting down at a large grand to gently waft soft music over the room.
The food was delicious, and Xander acknowledged it, Laurel agreeing. It gave them something to talk about, something entirely neutral. Several times Xander found himself nearly referencing back to Greece, but pulled away in time. He wanted nothing to upset her, nothing to allow anything in tonight that might drag in difficulties.
This is about now, about this evening. Nothing else.
He kept it light and easy and undemanding, and he felt Laurel be glad for it too. They talked about the hotel, when it had been a private home, the history of it—again, a carefully neutral subject. They talked about the music that was playing, identifying the melodies, capping each other. He felt her relax, give herself to what was happening, this evening of easy enjoyment, of gourmet dining and gracious surroundings. They talked about Dan, how he’d enjoyed all their outings and adventures, and more that could come another time.
And all the while, Xander could not take his eyes from her her incandescent beauty revealed to him again.
And she was returning it. No longer fighting it. Not denying it or dismissing it. Not hiding it.
It was like a cocoon around them, a silvered mesh gathering them together.
Was it like how it had been in Greece? He didn’t want to think about it, not because there were any bad memories—not until the disastrous ending—but because he wanted, overwhelmingly, to focus on the present, not the past.
The present that he had here and now. That they both had.
He was going very softly, very gently. Letting her see how he appreciated her, how wonderful her newly revealed and adorned beauty was to him, but not pressing her with it. Holding back.
He didn’t want to scare her off, make her wary again, go back into denial, withdrawal.
So he made it easy to be with him, talk with him, enjoy the evening with him. And when their mains were cleared away, their wine glasses refilled with the rich ruby red he’d chosen for them both, they sipped it peaceably while the small band gathered beside the grand piano, the promised cabaret starting up.
The performers were good, highly professional, and the numbers they chose were a mix of old and new, the singers giving lively or haunting interpretations as the songs required. As the desserts circulated, applause was warm and appreciative.
Xander’s eyes went to Laurel. She was sitting back, relaxed, finishing the last of her wine, her lips moving in echoes of the current number, a lilting familiar one from a musical, her eyes alight. He felt it go through him again, that wash of delight in her beauty, his desire of it.
Something moved within him. It was more than just what had made him want to conspire with Dan to get her here, achieve this evening with her, see her again as beautiful as he knew her to be. Something was happening to him that had never been there before, not in Greece. Back then, desire had flamed with the heat of youth, the carefree, avid indulgence of their private idyll. Now it was…
More. Somehow, there is more now. Something…free.
Was that it? In Greece, for all their idyll, he’d known that in the wings, Olympia had been waiting for him. Had that shadowed his time with Laurel? Even before that calamitous ending?
But Olympia is gone now, finding her own happiness, her own future, without me in it. Freeing me.
And if Olympia was freeing him for Laurel, something else was binding her to him, uniting her to him.
Our son.
His eyes rested on her. The mother of his son. The woman he desired. Both in the same person. He felt emotion rise in him.
The song ended. Their waiter was whisking away their wine glasses, setting down dessert wine, their dessert plates and disappearing off again.
Laurel turned back to him, smiling. “I do love that song,” she said nostalgically. Her eyes went to her dessert. Gleamed appreciatively. “And this looks delicious!”
She lifted her spoon, dipped it into the rich confection and gave a happy sigh.
Xander smiled indulgently, took a mouthful of his sweet but delicate Sauterne, and made a start on his own dessert.
It was a peaceable moment to be savoured and enjoyed.
Like all that this evening was bringing them.
Laurel gave a sigh of repletion. “That,” she said, “was heavenly!”
She pushed back the silvered dish that had just held the most delicate and deliciousbavarois framboise.
Xander gave a low laugh. It sent a tremor through her, but she did her best to ignore it, despite the champagne and wine coursing in her veins.
