Chapter 9 #2
Our table was a quiet one in the back, half-hidden behind a privacy screen.
An old-fashioned lace-trimmed tablecloth covered the small square table, which was formally set with china, wine glasses, and everything.
Two white candles were already burning, waiting for us.
It was quite romantic, actually, and judging by the slight widening of his eyes, Forest noticed it too.
Not. A. Date.
“Would you like some bread with olive oil to start you off?” the server asked. I quickly checked his nameplate. Giorgio. Well, that was either fake or he was incredibly well-matched to the restaurant. Or maybe his family owned it?
“Does anyone ever say no to that?” Forest asked. “Other than people with allergies or sensitivities, maybe?”
Giorgio grinned. “Some low-carb fanatics.”
Forest rolled his eyes. “If you don’t wanna eat carbs, don’t eat Italian.”
“Exactly. And for drinks? Some red wine, perhaps?”
“Not for me, thank you,” I told him. If I was driving, I wasn’t drinking. Not even a glass of wine. “But I’ll take some sparkling water, please.”
“Absolutely.” Giorgio turned to Forest, beaming at him. “And for you?”
Forest let out a sharp sigh. “As much as I would love some wine, I’ll take that sparkling water as well.”
“Coming right up.”
With another big smile, Giorgio left, only to return moments later with a basket of various breads and a plate with a bottle of olive oil, another one with balsamic vinegar, and two tiny bowls with something I didn’t recognize.
“I’ve brought you some focaccia and ciabatta, plus two of our dipping mixes.
The first is a Tuscan mix with a little bit of heat from red pepper flakes.
The second is our famous garlic dip, and you can guess the main ingredient.
Just mix with a bit of oil and see which is your favorite.
” He leaned in, his brown eyes sparkling as he made eye contact with Forest. “Normally, the dipping mixes are extra, but we’re always happy to waive that for our fellow bread-lovers. ”
Forest chuckled as Giorgio sauntered off, flashing Forest a wink but staying on the right side of that line between harmless flirting and being overtly interested in someone who was clearly out on a date.
Well, Giorgio would think so anyway, even if it technically wasn’t a date. “He likes you,” I said.
Forest blinked, as if he’d missed it. “He does?”
“Mmm, for sure. Didn’t you see that wink he threw your way?”
Forest waved his hand. “He’s not my type.”
What was his type? I desperately wanted to ask, but something held me back. Instead, I focused on the menu. It had changed little since the last time I’d been here, which had been with some guys from work.
“The lasagna is amazing here, and so is their seafood linguine.” I looked up to find Forest studying me. “What?”
“You’re not gonna ask?”
I knew what he was referring to. “Did you want me to?”
“Considering you proposed to me, wouldn’t you be interested in knowing whether you’re my type or not?”
I tried to play it cool. “I didn’t think it appropriate to ask.”
He snorted. “Appropriate? Since when do you care about that?”
Since I’d started to care about what Forest thought of me, which had been…
the moment we’d met. God, seeing him that first time had been like being shocked by a taser.
My whole system had fried, circuits overloaded, and it had taken a good while for my brain to unscramble itself.
I couldn’t quite remember what I had said to him back then, but my money was on me rambling stupidly.
Not that I was gonna tell him that. “I didn’t want to put any pressure on you.”
Which was true. As much as I wanted to beg him to accept my offer so I could start taking care of him for real, I had sternly told myself not to. This needed to be his decision, made of his own free will, not because I’d worn him down with my arguments or sheer badgering.
Forest cocked his head, a smile playing on his lips. “There’s that sweetness again.”
I was really starting to detest that word. “But if you’re offering that information willingly, I’m not gonna say no.”
Forest played with his napkin. “Hmm, maybe I will…”
Giorgio came back with our drinks, interrupting our discussion. “Are you ready to order?” he asked after opening the bottle of sparkling water and pouring us some, serving Forest first.
“I’ll try the seafood linguine,” Forest said, nudging his head at me. “He said it was amazing.”
“It is. Excellent choice. And for you, sir?”
I couldn’t help but notice he called me sir but hadn’t done the same to Forest. “I’ll try the spaghetti bolognese tonight. Haven’t had it before.”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” Giorgio said as he quickly jotted something down. “I’d eat it every day if I could.”
After he’d left again, a silence followed. Surely the moment had now passed to bring up the topic of attraction and types again. Giorgio had had the worst timing. If he’d shown up even a minute later, I would’ve had my answer.
“I like men,” Forest said then, and I blinked.
Surely he didn’t expect that part to be news to me.
“And I don’t mean that I’m gay, which I am, for the record, but I’m talking about the difference between men and boys.
Boys are great for a hookup or a good time, but for something serious, I need a man. ”
Oh, interesting. “What’s the difference, you think? What separates the men from the boys, so to speak?”
He mulled it over, sipping from his water.
His hand trembled a little, and I looked away, not wanting to embarrass him.
“It’s the difference between Tom Holland and Chris Hemsworth on one hand and Robert Downey Jr. and Paul Rudd on the other.
” At my confused face, he smiled. “There’s this video where all the Marvel actors are getting out of an elevator, and Tom Holland gets out first, even before Zendaya.
But the other three guys insist Scarlett Johansson walks out before them.
To me, that’s a little thing, but it speaks volumes.
Tom is incredibly cute and attractive, but to me, he’s still a boy. The other three are men.”
Hmm, I saw what he meant. But that begged the question of who I resembled more, Tom or the others? I wanted to say the others, but damn, comparing myself to Thor, Ant-Man, and Iron Man? Talk about setting the bar high.
Forest leaned in, then patted my hand. “You would’ve let me go first. You’re way too much of a gentleman not to.”
He thought I was a gentleman? That was a first. I’d certainly never been called that before. “Thank you.”
Another pat and those green eyes focused on me. “What’s your type?”
You.
The word was right there on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back.
Now was not the time. In fact, it would be the absolute worst timing in the world because if he realized how attracted I was to him, he might interpret my proposal as some nefarious scheme to get into his pants, which was about as far from the truth as possible.
Yes, I did want to get into his pants, no doubt about it. But not at the cost of losing his friendship. His respect. And definitely not at the cost of being able to protect Forest and take care of him. That mattered more than anything else.
I cleared my throat when I realized I’d been silent for too long. “Erm, same. Men, I mean. And not…boys. I don’t like ’em too young. Makes me feel like their dad.”
His eyes twinkled. “I bet there’s plenty of boys who wouldn’t mind having you as their sugar Daddy…”
A sharp intake of breath, and I wanted to die when I saw Giorgio standing behind me, ready to serve me my plate. Had Forest seen him head over and deliberately said those words? Considering the laughter in his eyes, it wouldn’t surprise me.
Under other circumstances, I might’ve been a tad pissed off about him embarrassing me, but not today. Not when that smile lit up his entire face and made him forget about his own troubles for a while. That was worth all the embarrassment in the world.
Didn’t mean I couldn’t tease him right back. “Mmm, that so? You applying for the job?”
Giorgio almost dropped the plate when he put it down in front of me, and his face turned a lovely shade of red. “P-pardon my interruption,” he stammered.
“No worries,” I said lightly. “We have no secrets, do we, sweetheart?”
Forest pressed his lips together in what seemed like a desperate attempt not to burst out in laughter.
I waited until Giorgio was done and had wished us a pleasant dinner, then asked, “Please know that I’m not in any way pressuring you, but can I ask if you’ve thought about the proposal?”
“You mean since this morning, when you asked me if you should apologize for it?”
Had that only been this morning? I laughed sheepishly. “Sorry? I swear I’m not usually this impatient.”
Which was the truth. I wasn’t so much impatient for his answer as desperate to help Forest, and this was the only way I knew how.
“I know.”
He took a bite from his linguine, and pure pleasure filled his expression, making something stir low in my belly.
“Good?” I asked, strangely pleased that I had recommended it.
“Amazing. God, this hits the spot.”
“Good. You needed this.”
“I needed linguine?”
“You needed pleasure. Something…” I gestured vaguely. “Something that pleased you, that made you happy, if only for a little bit.”
“For a man who doesn’t want to be called sweet, you really do say the nicest things.”
I groaned softly. What was it with him and that word?
It was like a curse by now, or maybe it really was a deliberate attempt on his end to keep me in that friendzone.
Not that I could fault him for that. Things between us were already complicated, and they would be even more so if we did indeed get married.
Getting…involved would only muddy the waters even more.
But damn if I didn’t want to jump right in and stir up those waters.
“Shouldn’t every person want that for their…friend? For them to be happy and enjoy life?” I asked, mostly rhetorical, but Forest seemed to consider it, a little thinking frown appearing.
“Perhaps, but very few truly do. At least, in my experience.”
“Then maybe you haven’t been hanging out with the right people, sweetheart.”
He slowly nodded. “Maybe I haven’t. You’re sure as heck puttin’ every man to shame, darlin’.”
Darling? And with the Texas drawl he’d suddenly put on? Be still my beating heart.
Too bad this wasn’t a date.
Not. A. Date.