Chapter Sixteen Dinner Surprise
Since Bastian’s tuxedo was specially tailored for him, he brought it with him. After being folded into his suitcase for the flight to Ann Arbor, it needed to be steamed, so Mirabelle and Bastian dropped it off at the hotel's dry cleaner service before they left to go shopping, then went looking for swimsuits and a dress for Mirabelle. The swimsuits were easy, and they got that out of the way quickly at a nearby sports store. The dress was a lot harder, and it took them almost all afternoon to find a boutique with dresses that matched the black-tie dress code, Mirabelle's style and were Bastian-approved. He was much more of a fashionista than Mirabelle, and she trusted his judgment completely because he always made her look incredible.
In the store, Mirabelle followed behind Bastian as he moved quickly through the racks, rejecting dress after dress. She’d never seen him have so much trouble finding something for her to wear, and after twenty minutes of him muttering to himself, she had to ask.
“What are you looking for, exactly?”
“Mira,” He looked up from the rack he was looking through, looking exasperated. “You have to look incredible because A. You're a gorgeous woman, and you need to wear things that show it off. B. You're the ex, so you have to show him and everyone else what he lost. C. He's marrying the woman he cheated with, so you have to look classy, but at the same time, you can't outdo the bride because then you come across as jealous and petty. So, I'm doing a very delicate dance right now.” He gave her a quick grin and went back to searching through the racks. A few minutes later, he came to a dead stop, pulling a black satin dress out of the rack and holding it up to show her. “This is perfect.”
Mirabelle let out a soft gasp. “Bastian! It's incredible!” The bodice had off-the-shoulder, three-quarter length sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, and the skirt was ankle length with a slight A-line flare and a thigh-high slit.
“Of course it is.” He smiled, and Mirabelle rolled her eyes playfully at how smug he looked. “Go try it on, but I don't want to see you in it until the wedding.”
Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to a seamstress, at Bastian's insistence, to have the dress altered so it fit her perfectly. Then, they were back at the hotel to get ready for their dinner reservation. Bastian grabbed a quick shower and then came out to get ready, letting Mirabelle do the same. She went in with the clothes she wanted to wear and her toiletries bag, suddenly feeling shy about him seeing her in a state of undress, which didn’t make logical sense considering he’d helped her shower when she broke her elbow in Hawaii and seen her naked, dressed and everything in between throughout their friendship. Deciding not to unpack that other than it was just different now, she got ready, putting on a grey pencil skirt and white blouse and doing her hair and make-up.
Leaving the bathroom, she found Bastian in gray wool slacks and a navy blue sweater. “Well, don't you look handsome?” She smiled at him as she looked him over. Handsome was a bit of an understatement; he looked good enough to eat. The slacks were practically moulded to his ass and thighs, and the sweater fit him perfectly, showing off all the hard work he put in at the gym without being tight.
“And you look beautiful.” He smiled back and held out her leather jacket so he could help her get it on. “Ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded, picking up her purse as she followed him out of the room. As they walked through the lobby, she vaguely recognized a small group of people as friends of Eddie’s and Casey’s. She saw them stop and stare at her and Bastian out of the corner of her eye as they passed. She nodded politely and kept going, reaching for Bastian’s hand as they walked and moving closer. She guessed the cat was out of the bag now.
They reached the Earle with minutes to spare for their reservation and were shown immediately to their table. Mirabelle took a good look around as the hostess led them through the restaurant and was pleased with the décor and general feel of the place. It was very warm and inviting, with the outer front wall in bare brick and the others in beige-brown paint. The tables had navy tablecloths, and the chairs were large and comfortable. A stage took up a corner, and a jazz band was playing, but they were far enough away that it was just loud background music. She ordered sparkling water and limoncello and listened as the hostess listed off the names of the scotch they had. One of them had a strange name followed by the words “special release,” which made Bastian’s eyes widen, and he immediately said he’d take a double of that one and an ice water.
“What’s so special about that one?” Mirabelle asked after the hostess walked away, curious about his excitement.
“It's a limited edition, Bastian explained as he studied the menu. “Cost’s forty dollars a shot.”
“You're seriously willing to pay eighty dollars for a drink?” Mirabelle raised her eyebrow. She knew Bastian liked expensive things and was more than happy to pay for them, but eighty bucks for a drink was a little much.
“For a Lagavulin 12-year special release. ” He corrected her, emphasizing the special release part as if it was supposed to mean something to her. “They’ve definitely over-priced it a little, but it’s worth it.”
“If you say so,” Mirabelle murmured, pulling her menu toward her. They ordered their appetizers to share between them, and Mirabelle filled Bastian in on Francesca’s dislike of places that weren’t New York, Paris, Milan or London.
“Francesca was born and raised in New York, but she modelled until she had Eleanor. So she was either in New York,” Mirabelle waved her hand in a circle as she took a sip of her limoncello.
“Milan, Paris or London.” He finished, chuckling as their main courses came. Mirabelle thoroughly enjoyed herself; the food was delicious, the band was excellent, and she always enjoyed spending time with Bastian. They were waiting to order dessert and enthusiastically cheering and clapping with everyone else as the band finished a set and announced a fifteen-minute break when someone stopped by their table. “Mira?”
Mirabelle recognized the voice and felt a wave of nerves roll over her as she looked up and met the blue eyes and equally nervous face of Eddie’s older sister, Eleanor. Seeing how anxious she was made Mirabelle relax and give her a huge smile. “Eleanor!” She stood up, and Eleanor stepped forward, hugging her tightly. “How are you?”
“I'm all right.” She leaned back and looked Mirabelle over before hugging her again. “Oh, it's so good to see you! How are you?” Mirabelle found herself swallowing a sudden lump in her throat. She had missed Eddie’s parents a lot, but it was nothing compared to how much she missed Eleanor. An up-and-coming artist, Eleanor was three years older than her and had been one of a few who hadn’t judged Mirabelle for her mother and had immediately taken it upon herself to teach Mirabelle the rules and intricacies of the upper class to help her feel more comfortable amongst Eddie’s family, something Mirabelle would always be grateful for.
“I'm amazing!” She stepped back and gestured to Bastian, who was watching the display between the two women with a delighted smile on his face. “You remember Bastian?” Bastian stood up and held his hand for Eleanor’s, kissing the back when she gave it to him and making her giggle.
“Of course, Bastian is a hard man to forget.”
“Join us for dessert?” Bastian gestured to the chair next to him. “I’m sure you and Mira have a bunch of things to catch up on.”
“Sure!” Eleanor’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she looked over her shoulder toward the bar. “Robert and I stopped in for a drink and to check out Ann Arbor's nightlife. He's at the bar. I'll grab him.” She scurried off, and Mirabelle looked at Bastian in surprise.
“I’m guessing you don’t mind if they join us,” Bastian asked as he switched seats so he was sitting to Mirabelle’s left instead of across from her. Mirabelle shook her head and smiled at him.
“Of course not. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know if you were up for company or if you wanted me all to yourself.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
When Eleanor came back, her husband, Robert, was slightly behind her, with one hand on the small of her back as they made their way to the table, their drinks in hand. Robert hugged Maribelle and shook Bastian's hand when Mirabelle introduced them.
“It's wonderful to see you again, Mirabelle.” Robert's deep voice, with its Cajun accent, made both her and Bastian smile as he pulled Eleanor’s seat out for her. Robert’s background wasn’t that different from hers and Bastian’s she knew. He was now a successful architect for a large firm out of New York, but he grew up in the lower middle class in Galliano, which was not that far from New Orleans. “Eleanor insisted on coming over to say hi, but I wasn't sure how you'd feel about having us both dumped on you.”
“I never had an issue with you two. Besides, Eleanor was like eighty percent of the reason I agreed to marry Eddie in the first place.” Mirabelle grinned at him. She was only exaggerating a little. Eddie’s family, Eleanor in particular, played a large part in why she agreed to marry him.
“That is the only reason that makes sense,” Bastian said dryly as the waitress stopped by. Noting Robert was also drinking scotch, he ordered another round for the table but told the waitress to bring Robert what he was drinking and insisted they order dessert on him. Mirabelle suppressed her smile. To an outsider, it might look like Bastian was showing off by throwing his money around, but that wasn’t the case at all. Because he invited them to join them, he felt he should pay so they wouldn’t feel like they were put on the spot. They placed their orders, and Mirabelle noticed that Robert was studying them over the rim of his glass with a faint smirk. She wondered why for a moment and then realized Bastian’s arm was around the back of her chair, and she was leaning toward him unconsciously and instantly knew what he was thinking. She was about to straighten up when she realized that she wanted it to be true.
“So, are you two together now?” Robert asked nonchalantly as he put his glass down
“Yes. Mirabelle smiled and placed her hand on Bastian’s thigh, making him look down at her in surprise. She gave him a gentle squeeze, silently asking him to go along with it.
“Is that news to you, Bast?” Eleanor raised her eyebrow with a grin, her eyes flitting back and forth between them as Mirabelle braced herself for his answer.
“No, we had agreed to keep it to ourselves so we wouldn't cause any more of a fuss than we already were.” Bastian covered for her smoothly, his arm moving from the back of her chair to her shoulders, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.
“Yeah, but it's Eleanor and Robert. We can't hide it from them.” Mirabelle gave his thigh a squeeze of thanks and let him go.
“I guess not.” Bastian smiled and leaned in, nuzzling her cheek lovingly. “It’s been twenty-one years in the making, but it’s finally happened, and I couldn’t be happier.”
Mirabelle felt her cheeks heat up at his blatant PDA, knew he was doing it to tease her, and cleared her throat as she changed the subject. “So, how are the blushing bride and groom doing?” She knew Eleanor wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to give her all the dirt, and sure enough, Eleanor lit up at the opportunity to vent and gossip, making Robert chuckle and shake his head.
“Now you've done it.” He muttered as the waitress brought the next round of drinks and their desserts over to them.
“So, you know she's pregnant, right?” Eleanor asked as she picked up her spoon and took a bite of her frozen hazelnut souffle. Mirabelle nodded, smiling at the waitress as she placed a crème brulee in front of her. “Well, the combination of pregnancy hormones and her natural bitchy personality has created a bridezilla that’s caused no less than four bridesmaids to drop out, leaving her scrambling every two or three days to find some poor idiot to fill in. Her Matron of Honor told her one more temper tantrum directed at her, and she would leave the morning of the wedding without telling her, which finally got her to rein it in a little bit.”
“There have been multiple meltdowns about the flowers - that she chose - not matching each other, the bridesmaid dresses – that she also chose and insisted on, despite multiple people telling her it wasn’t going to look like she thought it would, not looking the way she thought it would.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “The last meltdown was epic, but honestly, I actually felt a little bad for her before she freaked out. She’s the oldest of three sisters; she and the middle sister, Carol, who is also the Matron of Honour, are best friends; they even got pregnant within a month or two of each other, but the youngest, Carla, is a spoiled brat, even more so than Casey, if you can believe it.” Eleanor paused to take a sip of her drink, and Mirabelle shook her head, not believing someone could be more of a spoiled brat than Casey.
“Not possible,” Bastian spoke up, also shaking his head in disbelief.
“Oh, but it is,” Robert murmured, sipping his drink. “Their parents divorced when they were young, and they both spoiled all three of them to try to be the favourite parent. The youngest was only two when they divorced, so she was spoiled from the very beginning and for the longest amount of time.”
Eleanor nodded. “And I guess she felt left out because she announced her pregnancy at Casey’s bridal brunch yesterday; there was this moment of silence where everyone just looked back and forth between the two of them. Carla was giving Casey the smuggest smile I’ve ever seen, and Casey was livid . Like, I didn’t know someone could turn that red. She screamed her head off at her sister, called her all kinds of names, and then stormed out of the room - which, you know what? Fair. I would have, too, minus the screaming and name-calling; with Carol and her bridesmaids chasing her, Carla started to cry and ran to their father, who looked completely done by the whole thing and asked Carla what she thought was going to happen before walking out with his wife.”
“I’ve got to say, I agree with her father; what did she think would happen?” Mirabelle shook her head and passed the last of her crème brulee to Bastian, unable to finish it after the meal she’d had.
“But in Carla’s defence, Casey announced her engagement at Carla’s birthday party. The whole family is crazy.” Eleanor leaned forward, clearly enjoying sharing all the dirt on Casey with people who would appreciate it. “Casey didn't want to invite her father's wife because she is five years younger than Carla and pregnant but would be ready to pop, like the tail-end of thirty-nine weeks, labour any day, ready to pop by the time the wedding happened. Her father told her he wouldn't come if his wife wasn’t invited because he wasn’t going to chance missing the birth of his son.”
“I wasn’t there for this; I’m getting it second-hand from Eddie, so take it with a grain of salt,” Eleanor finished her souffle, wiped her mouth and sat back with a happy sigh. “That was delicious. Thanks Bastian.” Bastian smiled and lifted his glass to her. “Anyway, according to Eddie, that was how her father told her and her sisters they were about to have a brother, which sent them over all over the edge, but Casey most of all because she’s a Daddy’s girl, and she refused to get married if he didn’t walk her down the aisle and do the father-daughter dance with her. She agreed to invite his wife but told her if she went into labour to squeeze her thighs together and hold it in. One peep out of her before the father-daughter dance was over, and she would make her and the baby's life hell, and her father actually said: “That's fair.’”
“Are you kidding me?” Bastian asked incredulously. “Mira, make sure you have some of my cards in your purse. It wouldn't take me long to get licensed and sworn in here.”
Robert let out a booming chuckle and grinned at Bastian. “Still doing divorces then?”
“Oh god, yes.” Bastian nodded. “Actually, Mirabelle and I just started our own law firm, and we're representing my former partner's wife in their divorce as our first case.
“That's incredible, you two!” Eleanor smiled at them both, looking like a proud mama. “But not surprising, I’ve heard from several of your former clients that you two are the best.”
“We’re pretty excited about it,” Mirabelle leaned back in her chair and returned her smile. “I've started doing upgrading for environmental law. I'll leave the prenups, divorces, custody battles, and mediations to Bast.”
“I think it’s great that you're finally able to follow your passion.” Eleanor reached out and squeezed her hand before looking at Bast. “Doesn’t it get depressing? Constantly watching families fall apart?”
“I spend more time in complete and utter disbelief than anything else.” Bastian shrugged. “Yeah, it’s sad when there are kids involved, especially when the parents are using them as bargaining chips, but eighty percent of my client base are rich men and women who are dealing with infidelity in one form or another. A shocking number of men and women are getting involved with much younger people of both sexes, and with technology, they’re getting caught. And trust me, a mid-life crisis is a very legitimate thing.”
“I can only imagine. I just bought myself a racehorse during my mid-life crisis.” Robert chuckled, running his hand sheepishly through his auburn hair as he glanced at Eleanor. “Much to Eleanor’s shock.”
“But considering he's won almost all of his races, I got over my feelings about it pretty quickly.” Eleanor grinned at her husband. “Have you had your mid-life crisis yet, Bast?”
“I don't think so,” Bastian furrowed his brow as he thought about it. “But I'm not in my forties yet.”
“He'll get his pilot's license and buy a plane,” Mirabelle said confidently. Bastian had expressed an interest in flying for as long as she could remember. “If the law hadn’t worked out for him, his backup was to join the Air Force.”
“Probably.” Bastain laughed, nodding. “I’d actually forgotten about that.”
They spent another hour together, and since they were all staying at the Weber, they shared a cab back. They said their goodbyes in the lobby and promised to meet again on Wednesday when Mirabelle and Bastian were supposed to meet with Francesca and Victor.
Back in the hotel room, Bastian dropped down on the bed and lay on his side, looking curiously at Mirabelle. “So, we're doing the fake dating thing?”
“Well, actually, I was hoping we could actually officially start dating.” Mirabelle smiled shyly at him. “If you’re okay with that.” She sat on the bed beside him, suddenly feeling like a teenager asking out her crush, and he shifted in to make some room for her.
“Are you sure, Bunny?” He reached for her, and she moved so she was leaning against his stomach, looking down at him. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into making a decision.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She reassured him as he sat up and faced her. “I still want to take our time, but I think saying we're officially dating is the truth.”
“Good.” Bastian smiled at her, and she melted at how much love and affection she saw in his eyes. He cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her gently, catching her completely by surprise. She parted her lips as a soft “Oh!” escaped her, and he took advantage of it, slipping his tongue in and deepening the kiss. Mirabelle felt her breath catch, and she kissed him back eagerly, moaning softly in disappointment when he ended it. “Fuck.” He muttered. She opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion. “Sorry. I had to; I've wanted to for years.”