Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
I’m trying on the wrap Mom loaned me to make sure it goes with my dress when there’s a knock at the door. I roll my eyes.
Yanking the door open, I say, “Will you never just text me that you’re…oh.”
It isn’t Crispin. Instead, it’s a lady. She’s wearing black slacks, a white blouse, and a black chauffeur’s cap. Her dark blond hair is pulled into a low bun. She looks very professional.
She grins at me. “Good evening, Miss Quill. My name is Belinda. I’ll be your driver tonight.”
My mouth flaps, and I look at her askance. “Uh…” I know. Very intelligent.
With a chuckle, she adds, “Mr. Moore has sent me to transport you to the dinner location where he will be awaiting your arrival.”
Mom steps up next to me. “Do you have a business card that I can have in case my daughter goes missing?”
I snort. Without missing a beat, Belinda reaches into her breast pocket and pulls one out, handing it to Mom. We both scan the information, which seems legit. I shrug at Mom, and she winks and nods at me. Handing me my clutch, she kisses me on the cheek.
“Happy birthday. Have a wonderful evening.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I follow Belinda down the steps and out to the parking lot where a black limousine waits with its flashers on.
“Oh.”
Belinda opens the door. “There are refreshments in the refrigerator on the left and snacks next to that. You can control the music or watch television with the remote on the console. We will be en route approximately twenty-five minutes, so make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” I slide onto the bench seat and look around the plush interior.
“You look lovely tonight, Miss Quill. That’s a beautiful dress.”
I grin up at Belinda. “Thanks. It’s new.”
She inclines her head and softly closes the door.
Playing with the lights and searching the cubbies and drawers keeps me occupied as we drive up Pacific Coast Highway.
I pour a bit of whiskey into a cut glass tumbler and snap a selfie—pretending to look drunk—and send it to Glory.
But I put the glass aside without even tasting the vile stuff.
I blast music, turning the bass as high as it will go, hoping the people walking on the sidewalk can hear it as we drive past. The windows are tinted, and I imagine them wondering who is inside the sleek black car as it prowls by.
We pull up to a restaurant that sits atop a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
Not too surprising since we are eating early enough to watch a sunset, and I know how much Crispin enjoys his sunsets.
A doorman steps up to the limousine and opens my door for me.
I look to the front of the limo as if I’ll be able to see through the privacy screen.
It feels strange not to say thank you to Belinda, but the man stands with his hand extended to help me out, and I don’t want to keep him waiting either.
I start to move forward, but then shake my head and shift toward the overhead panel.
I press the button labeled “privacy,” and the screen sinks downward. Belinda turns in her seat.
“Is there something wrong, Ms. Quill?”
“Not at all. I just wanted to say thank you. That was my first limo ride, and it was epic.”
She shifts further so she’s facing me more, and her grin is as welcoming now as it was at my front door. “It was my pleasure. But I’ll see you again after dinner. I’m Mr. Moore’s regular driver.”
“Oh! I didn’t even know he had one. He’s always driving himself.”
“Yes, he makes my job easy.”
“Then I’ll see you later.”
“Enjoy your dinner.”
The man extends his hand again when he sees me slide toward the door a second time. “Good evening, Ms. Quill.”
“Oh, you know me too?” I grin at him as I step out of the limo, feeling like a million dollars.
“I was asked to escort you upstairs.”
I look at the outside of the restaurant.
Two stories with a weird circular structure in the middle of the roof.
A third story, maybe? I scan the windows on the second floor to see if I recognize Crispin, but then silently scold myself.
Certainly, he’ll have secured a table on the ocean side of the room.
Front and center, I’m sure. Or in a dark, private corner, perhaps.
I smile to myself as I follow the man up the steps and into the restaurant.
Something about the place screams expensive. Low lighting, a rail-thin hostess in a gorgeous black gown, candlelight reflecting off crystal. I don’t know what it is, but I know this place costs a fortune.
“This way, ma’am.”
I smirk at the man’s back as I climb the stairs behind him.
I’m no ma’am. At the second floor, I follow him across the open room.
Because it’s still early, it’s not very busy, so I’m surprised when I don’t spot Crispin immediately.
When the man climbs another staircase in the center of the room, I realize we’re going to that strange circular structure in the middle of the building.
“Cool.”
At the top of the stairs, I stop. There is so much to take in at once, and I don’t know where to look first. But in the end, Crispin, in his dark suit with his floppy bangs, wins.
He’s standing with a champagne glass in his hand.
It appears he was watching the ocean until he heard us coming.
The stairs have deposited me in the middle of a round room of floor-to-ceiling windows.
Crispin looks devastatingly handsome with the wild ocean and gray-blue sky as his backdrop.
“Happy birthday.” He picks up a second flute and crosses to me.
I take it but shake my head. “I can’t drink champagne.”
“Good thing it’s sparkling cider then.”
Taking a tentative sip, I giggle as the bubbles tickle my nose and then smack my lips from the satisfying taste of apple cider. “Oh, that is good.”
He leans forward and kisses me on my forehead. “It’s so good to see you. You look stunning.”
A girl in what seems to be the wait staff attire—white jacket, black slacks—steps up. “Can I take your wrap?”
“As long as you don’t let me forget it.”
“No problem, Miss. Quill.”
“Everybody knows me,” I say to Crispin. “How is that?”
“I can’t stop talking about you.” He gestures toward the window. “Would you like to enjoy the view before appetizers?”
I look around as we cross the room. There are half a dozen tables in the room, though we are the only diners.
I deposit my clutch on the table I think we’re eating at, since the water glasses are full and sweating.
A full bar is set along the side of the room where it doesn’t impede a spectacular view.
A bartender polishes glasses to perfection since he doesn’t have anything else to do.
A string quartet sits across the room, set up on a raised stage.
“Oh my gosh, the music is live. I assumed it was piped in.”
Crispin smiles. “They’ll play anything you ask of them.”
“How about Bohemian Rhapsody?”
The music stops and within a few beats, they launch into a string quartet version of the epic Queen song.
Crispin laughs. “That might have been an easy one. Isn’t the title of the album that song was on Night at the Opera?”
“Oh yeah!” I laugh until the view captures my attention. We’re so high, and somehow that means we can see forever. It literally looks like I can see over the edge of the world at the end of the ocean. “Wow.”
“I love this place.” Crispin appears so relaxed with a hand in a pocket and the other wrapped around his flute.
His profile never ceases to take my breath away, regardless of what mood he’s in, but this mood – satisfied?
Content? Whatever it is, his eyes are slightly hooded, his lips tipped up at the ends.
He looks so comfortable, even though his black shirt is buttoned to the very top and his black jacket is buttoned as well.
His shoes look very pointy, but he doesn’t seem to feel pinched.
He catches me looking at him and takes a double-take. “What?”
“You just…” I shrug, blush, and turn toward the view. Looking over my shoulder, I ask, “Do we have this place to ourselves?”
“We do.”
“Wow, Crispin. You are amazing.”
He shakes his head and stares at me. His voice, when he speaks, is just a whisper. “Not me.”
Our appetizers are served, so we sit to enjoy them. The atmosphere is relaxed and casual, and I don’t feel rushed at all. The staff knows the exact number of times they should ask if we need anything so that I feel well taken care of without being annoyed over constant interruptions.
“I’m going to take a picture of the sunset. Is that okay?” I ask, as I dig for my phone in my clutch.
“Of course it’s okay. Why would you even ask?”
“This is such an incredible evening, and I don’t want you to think I’m looking for an Instagram moment or anything.”
“Would you like me to get a picture of the two of you?” One of our wait staff asks.
“Please!” I hand her my phone, and Crispin and I stand in front of the stunning sunset view. When he wraps an arm around my waist, my smile couldn’t get any more genuine.
I thank her and then scroll through them, since she snapped a few.
“What is it?” Crispin asks when I frown.
I look up at him. “I barely recognize myself.” I hand him the phone. “That doesn’t even look like me.”
He studies it with a pleased smile on his face. “It looks exactly like you.”
I look at the picture and blink a few times, deciding I’ll examine it later. Maybe in better light, I’ll see myself more clearly.
My lobster dinner melts in my mouth. I’ve never had lobster before, and I think I’ve fallen in love. Dessert is decadent and rich, and served with eighteen lit candles that I’m required to blow out.
I tell Crispin about my mom’s and my outing the day before, and how much better I feel about her and her recovery.
We talk about family vacations from our childhood, the time I tried to learn how to play guitar and failed spectacularly, about some of my favorite scene rewrites that Dad and I did, and about all the times Crispin’s sister covered for him when he screwed up at home by breaking something, or coming home too late, or forgetting to do a chore.
“I always wanted a big brother,” I admit.
He shakes his head. “A big sister is way better. They’re kinder.”
“Oh, that.” I wave a hand dismissively. “I was just thinking about dating his cute friends.”
The musicians transition into an instrumental version of a popular love song. I look over at them and smile when I recognize the song.
“Will you dance with me?” Crispin asks.
“I don’t know that I know how.” I laugh uncomfortably.
“Then it’s time you learn.” Crispin stands and reaches out a hand. I swallow at the dashing form he cuts in his all-black ensemble. “I promise it isn’t difficult.”
His hand is warm. The pads of his fingers are slightly callused, making me wonder what type of work he does to earn them. He leads me a few steps away from our table and then turns toward me, taking my right hand in his and sliding his left hand around my waist.
I’m no longer breathing as he kisses the knuckles of the hand he’s holding. “Relax. I promise not to bite.”
I let out a breathy laugh that’s cut off when I look out the windows at the back of the room.
“Oh!” We’ve been facing the ocean the entire time.
Now that the sun has set, the view has turned into a big black canvas.
But behind us, the view has come alive with sparkling lights.
The houses that crawl over the hills are lit up, making the scene glitter like Christmas. “That’s beautiful.”
“Yes.” Crispin sounds distracted, but I’m too enamored with the view to see why. “Captivating.”
When I tear my attention from the twinkling hills behind us, I find Crispin studying me.
I blush and tentatively rest my head on his chest as we sway together, so I can watch the view.
Wrapped in his embrace, I’m embarrassed when tears spring to my eyes.
I blink them away, not willing to share them and risk them ruining the mood.
But as I relax against Crispin, I’m overwhelmed with a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.
A feeling of security. It feels so good knowing someone is watching out for me.
The emotion becomes almost too big for me to contain, and I know I need to acknowledge it in some manner, but I’m feeling especially vulnerable, so I squeeze his hand and whisper, “Thank you for this, Crispin. It’s very special. ”
He kisses the crown of my head and pulls our clasped hands to his chest. “You are very special, Ari. I’m happy to show you how special you are.”
I smile and blink away the new rush of tears, but I keep my head resting against his chest and stare out at the enchanting view. I want to soak this feeling in until I’m so full of it, I can’t help but remember it forever.