Chapter 20 #2
As we head toward the back, I pay attention to the customers and see that most of them look to be in their late twenties to mid-fifties, all dressed very nicely.
It’s a good thing I wore this dress today, or I would have felt very out of place.
Something tells me the professor wouldn’t have chosen this location if I had worn jeans this morning.
We reach the booth in the back where the music is low, and there are only couches nearby, with an older couple sitting on one.
Our booth is round and comfortably fits three people, but we each take a seat across from the other.
The hostess gives us two menus and smiles before she leaves.
My eyes scan the place once more before I turn my wide gaze back to Grayson. He’s flipping through the small menu as if he didn’t just bring me to a secluded and unknown place.
“Uh, Grayson?”
“Hmm?” He continues to look down at the damn menu.
“What is this place? How do you know about it? And why did you bring me here?” I ask impatiently.
He pauses before closing the menu, and asks, “Are you hungry?” My mouth falls open. Am I hungry? “I’ll take that as a yes. Do you want anything to drink?” My jaw shuts, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll order something for the table then.” His hand goes up, and he smiles at whoever is coming.
“Mr. Hayes. What can I get you and your date tonight?”
Now that makes my head turn to the waiter.
“I’m not his date,” I practically yell.
The waiter’s lips quirk up. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Yes, Cecil, you shouldn’t assume certain things,” Grayson says, his voice laced with humor and sarcasm.
Cecil, a tall man with gray hair and glasses, larger than the ones Grayson wears during class, laughs.
“You are right, sir.” He looks down at me.
“I should’ve known that you weren’t his date, given Mr. Hayes’s usual company.
” Grayson glares at his friend, who isn’t shy at all about said history. “He’s never brought a date before.”
A nervous laugh slips out, and I quickly cover my mouth as I try to calm down. I have no idea what that was. This whole night has me acting strange.
“I’ll have my usual plate, and she’ll have the same,” Grayson grits out, and I shoot him a glare. I’m not a fan of people ordering for me, but I guess that’s what I get for not looking at the menu.
“Very well. And to drink?”
“A glass of the…” Grayson trails off, takes the drink menu from where it stands, and hands it to me. I keep my hands where they’ve been the whole time, on my lap. “Here.” He waves it. “You picked a great wine at Simone’s.”
Tilting my head, I snatch the menu from him and accept the challenge, knowing he won’t let it go.
“What are we having to eat?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I roll my eyes. “Give me something, Grayson.”
“Order something you like.”
“But I’m not drinking it.”
“I trust you.”
Looking at Grayson over the menu, I see him leaning back on his side of the booth, relaxed and waiting patiently.
His glasses are off, and his hair is slicked back except for a single light brown curl.
His gray-blue dress shirt remains perfectly crisp, and the dim lights from above reflect in his blue-green eyes, making them appear bluer than usual.
It’s kind of amazing how much his clothing can influence the color of his eyes.
“Fine.” Anything to distract me for a moment.
Glancing through the reds—because I’m a red wine gal—I find one that I’ve tried before and can go with a wide variety of foods.
I close the menu so forcefully that the small gust of wind it creates moves some strands of my hair.
“He’ll have a glass of Luce Toscana 2020, please, Cecil. ”
“Very well, Ms.…”
“You can call me Emma,” I tell him. “And I’ll have a cosmopolitan, and keep them coming.”
He chuckles as I hand him the menu. “Will do, Ms. Emma.”
After he leaves, I decide to let my hair down from its low ponytail and fluff it up. I squirm as I feel him watching me.
“What?”
He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Do you not like Merlot?”
“I do. I think it’s a great choice.”
Grayson keeps eyeing me suspiciously. “Then what is it?”
“You got a cocktail,” he states.
Seriously? This is about my drink?
I hold a finger up. “I have the right to be tipsy after all of this.”
He nods. “Fair enough.” Grayson places his hands on the table, where his button-down sleeves stay halfway up his forearms. I look away, feeling my face heat at the thing I find so sexy…
“To answer your previous questions, which are off the record, by the way, this is a speakeasy.” Yeah, I thought as much.
“My friend showed it to me a couple of years ago when I came to visit, and I’ve been coming at least once a week ever since I moved back.
I brought you here because it’s private, nice, personal, and far from the university, where we are constantly careful of everything we say and do. ”
My lips remain sealed as I absorb his final words. This is his way of showing me that he was listening to what I said earlier. That I was at least partly right about everything, even if he’s not ready to admit it word for word yet.
Cecil returns with both of our drinks before I can reply to what Grayson said.
Thanking him, I take a large sip of the cocktail I only ever order on special outings. It’s probably the best cosmopolitan I’ve ever had. It’s not too sweet or tart.
“Good?” Grayson asks.
I swallow my second sip. “Mhm. And I’m sure the second one will taste even better.”
He laughs and plays with the stem of his wineglass, not taking his eyes off me.
“Yours?”
The corners of his mouth turn up as he tastes the Merlot.
My palms are sweaty, and I find myself craving his approval. No, no, no. He’s just a man, and I will not give him that power.
“It’s great.”
My body relaxes slightly. “Good.”
We both have some more to drink. He sets his glass down, and his face turns serious. “I’m not allowed to get drunk since I am driving, but I needed a glass of this before answering the questions you need answers to.”
“Okay,” I say carefully.
He clears his throat. “Let’s get the most depressing ones out of the way before the food arrives, which should take about another eight minutes, give or take. After that, you’ll have all the information you need about that topic, and we’ll discuss things that aren’t nearly as sad. Sound good?”
Swallowing harshly, I raise a finger and drink from my cosmo. “I needed a sip before you started.”
His lips curl up slightly before he looks down and stiffens. “My parents passed away in a car crash,” he breathes out shakily. “The man who hit them was drunk, and he died in the crash as well.”
“Grayson…”
He shifts his head and gazes into my eyes with a blend of coldness and vulnerability.
“Let me finish.”
Nodding, I shut my mouth, knowing he has to do it this way.
“I was working when I got the call, and it didn’t feel real at first. I was twenty-one and on my way to becoming a successful chef.
” His voice remains steady, and I stay quiet.
“Once their funeral came around, that’s when the reality of everything really hit me.
To this day, every June seventh, I spend the day alone.
” My eyes water with unshed tears from what he’s sharing.
That last part isn’t going into my article.
It’s not something others should know about.
Grayson clears his throat and rubs a hand down his face.
He sits up straight, seeming to come out of whatever trance he was in.
“Their names were Suzy and Bill Hayes, but my mom used her maiden name for her photography—Suzy Hadley.” The name instantly sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
“My dad was a well-known surgeon. If you search for her and my dad’s name, you’ll see why I was able to afford what I did at that age.
” Lifting his wineglass, he gives me the last piece of information.
“They left almost everything to my siblings and me when they passed away. My brother and sister are three years younger than me and are both successful, but I don’t feel comfortable saying anything else without their permission. ”
My throat feels like sandpaper. Too many thoughts are racing through my mind. I was given so much more than I was expecting, but my curiosity and hunger still aren’t satiated.
I tap the corner of my eye to stop a tear from falling. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through,” I tell him sincerely.
“You know loss as well, and you were kind enough to tell me about it the other day. You deserve the same respect you gave me.” His tone is dry, but his eyes show his emotionality.
This is the person I remember. This is the real Grayson Hayes.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He only nods.
After a moment of silence, I switch into journalism mode. “What kind of photography did your mom do?”
He tsks. “You have their names, Emma. Now it’s your turn to do the research.”
“Just a little hint.” I pout.
He shakes his head. “Such a stubborn little thing.” Grayson leans over.
“I’ll give you two hints.” I lean in as well, as if he’s sharing a secret.
“You definitely saw something of hers on TV when you were younger.” I tilt my head to the side.
That’s…broad. “And it was most likely in a documentary set in a different country.”
Grayson leans back and drinks from his wineglass as I repeat her name over and over in my head. It feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue, but the alcohol is starting to hit me because I’ve been drinking it too quickly, making my thoughts slow down a bit.
“Look her up tomorrow. You’ll see what I mean.” As I open my mouth to ask a question about his divorce that I barely know anything about, two plates are placed in front of us, and I close my eyes, knowing the subject is done for the night.
“Anything else?” Cecil asks. I grab my glass and take the last sip. “Another cosmopolitan coming right up.” He leaves before I can swallow, and I smile at the humor in Cecil’s voice.