Chapter 12
Giada took Ronan’s hand when he offered it to help her get out of his truck.
She hid a soft smile when she caught his gaze sliding down her body appreciatively.
Ronan realized he was staring when she gently pulled her hand free and straightened her clothes, while giving him a little bit of side eye along with a smirk.
“Sorry. I forgot myself for a minute,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced around the parking lot.
Giada tugged her hair out from beneath her coat and pulled her coat closer around herself. “It’s okay. It’s been a long time since I felt like a woman.”
He placed his hand at the small of her back and began their walk into the restaurant. “That’s a damn shame.”
“What is?” she asked, looking up at him.
“The fact that you haven’t felt like a woman in a long time. Someone should be reminding you every single day of how beautiful, and smart, and desirable you are.”
“Someone might someday. I wouldn’t even mind if it was only a few times a year.”
“A few times a year? No. It needs to be every day, and not always spoken.”
“Not always spoken?”
He opened the door to the restaurant, but instead of allowing her to step inside first, he blocked the door with his body and looked around for a few seconds.
He lifted his chin just slightly and seemed to sniff the air.
Satisfied that there was no threat inside, he stood to the side and gestured for her to enter as he picked up the conversation where he left off.
“Words are great — there would be a lot of misunderstandings without them. But some of the most meaningful communications are made without words.”
“Oh,” she said, her hand instinctively flying up to press at her chest just below her throat.
He smirked down at her as she looked up at him wide-eyed.
“May I take your coats?” the hostess asked.
“Please,” Ronan said, moving behind Giada and gently taking her coat from her shoulders. He waited patiently as she shrugged her arms out of it, then added his own and handed them both to the girl.
“Your name?”
“Ronan McCullen.”
“Oh, yes. Party of two.” She signaled a waiter standing a few feet away surveying the dining room, who responded immediately. As he approached the hostess introduced him. “This is Justin. He’ll be your waiter for the evening.”
“Hello,” Justin said.
“Hi,” Ronan answered.
“I’ll put your coats away under your last name, Mr. McCullen. I’ll send a claim tag to your table momentarily,” the hostess said.
“Thank you.”
“If you’ll follow me,” Justin said, standing before them with menus tucked under one arm.
He escorted them to a table near the fireplace on the far wall and made sure they were seated and comfortable before handing them their menus.
“Our specials tonight are the petite filet with a crab meat cream sauce over the top, and a spiced grilled chicken breast on a bed of creamed spinach. Both come with roasted and smashed fingerling potatoes. But please feel free to look over our menu as well.”
“Thank you,” Ronan said.
“Would you like to order an appetizer, or take a little time to look over our libation menu as well?” he asked.
“Would you like a drink?” Ronan asked.
“No, thank you. I’ll just take an unsweetened iced tea,” Giada said.
Ronan nodded, then down at the menu again, as he spoke to their waiter. “I’ll have a sweet iced tea.”
“And any appetizers?”
“Do you like seafood?” Ronan asked.
“I do,” Giada answered.
“And artichoke?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“Could we have the marinated crab claws, and the stuffed artichoke for appetizers, please?”
“Of course, sir. I’ll put that in with our kitchen staff and be right back with your drinks, and to take your entree orders.”
“So what looks good to you?” Ronan asked.
“That petite filet sounds delicious, but it’s petite,” Giada said, leaning over to whisper the last part.
Ronan laughed. “We’ll ask if we can get a larger filet with the same sauce.”
“That’d be perfect. And maybe a baked potato and some of that creamed spinach.”
“Consider it done,” he said.
“If the kitchen will comply. If not, we’ll order several different dinners and mix and match to get what we want,” Ronan said.
“That’d be expensive!” Giada exclaimed.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s our first date, and we’re going to splurge and get exactly what we want.”
Giada looked like she was going to object, but then she sat back in her chair and smiled at him. “It is our first date, isn’t it?”
“The first of many.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she teased.
“I’m trying to be.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just means I’m sure of what I want. I’m just not sure of what you want.”
“Your appetizers have been started, and here are your drinks. Are you ready to order?”
“Can we get the biggest filet you have and put some of the crab meat sauce on it? And a baked potato — loaded, and some of that creamed spinach on the side also?”
The waiter smiled. “I can get you whatever you’d like, sir.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“For your wife, yes?” the waiter asked.
Ronan looked up from his menu and grinned at Giada sitting across from him, looking up at the waiter with a surprised expression.
“Yes. For my wife. And I’ll have the T-bone, with the roasted and smashed fingerling potatoes with some of y’all’s grilled onions on top.”
“And how would you like your steaks cooked?”
“Medium for me,” Giada said.
“Same,” Ronan added.
“Excellent. I’ll bring your appetizers as soon as they’re ready and put in your order for your entrees.”
“Thank you,” Ronan and Giada both said.
Ronan kept his eyes on the waiter as he left the dining room, then he quickly scanned the dining room before returning his attention back to Giada. He smiled at her.
“So, you’re not sure of what I want?” she asked, taking them back to their previous conversation.
“It would be foolish of me to assume I know what you want.”
“And yet you’re here with me, taking a chance anyway,” she said.
“The one thing I do know is that I’ll never get what I want if I don’t try. I can want and rage and beg and plead and demand all I want, but if I make no steps to work for what I want, the only guaranteed outcome is that I won’t receive what I want.”
Giada sipped her iced tea as she watched him waiting for her reply. “And you want me.”
“Not like you’re inferring. You’re not a prize to be won.
You’re a female with a strong heart and an equally as strong backbone.
You know your worth, and you know what matters to you, and you are careful about who you let into the periphery of your life.
You keep your boys close and everything else on the outside.
What I want is to be a part of that piece of you that you protect.
I want you to choose me, as I’ve chosen you.
I don’t want to posses you. I want to love you.
I want to build a life with you. I want you to want to build a life with me, too.
I want us both to wake up every day knowing that we don’t ever have to do anything alone again, and that we’re safe and loved and valued at the very core of who we are.
And I want your boys to see that and know that they too are loved and valued the same way.
That is what I mean when I say I want you.
I don’t want to posses you, that’s not love.
That’s possession and it has nothing to do with love and respect. ”
Giada sat in her chair, her eyes pinned on Ronan, completely taken off guard by his very honest, very heartfelt words.
“And here are your appetizers! Enjoy!” their waiter said as he placed both their stuffed artichoke and their marinated crab claws between them, and small plates in front of each of them.
“Thank you,” Ronan said, without looking up.
“Thank you,” Giada whispered.
The waiter hesitated as he looked at both Ronan and Giada and realized there was an intense conversation taking place. He quickly excused himself and hurried away giving them the privacy that they obviously needed.
Ronan didn’t reach for the food. Instead, he just sat calmly and waited for Giada to react.
After a few minutes of staring at the table, she finally lifted her gaze to his.
“If I were a different person, in a different place, with a different past, I’d jump at the chance to have your attentions focused on me.
But because of my own situation, I can’t let you into our lives on a permanent basis. ”
“Can’t or won’t?” he asked.
She thought about it for a second. “Can’t. And because I care about you — won’t.”
“Tell me what it is you’re afraid of.”
She thought about it, then closed her eyes when she began to tear up. “It’s so much. So very much. I just can’t expose anybody else to the danger I hide from every single day.”
“Tell me what you hide from.”
She didn’t respond, choosing to sit quietly instead.
“Okay, let me tell you what I think you’re hiding from.
You are running from an abusive man, probably a husband.
A husband that made you so afraid that you even send yourself into a meltdown at the thought of the kids spilling something.
And from the way you’ve insisted you don’t have copies of your legal identification, even a birth certificate or social security card, and you’ve kept the kids at your side and refused to enroll them in school, you’ve got to be pretty sure he’s searching for you.
“How do you know I haven’t given any copies of my identification to anyone?”
“My uncle mentioned in passing that you could be making a lot more than you do at the shelter, if you would just get copies of your legal identification. He also mentioned that he pays you in cash because you don’t want anything to be able to leave a trace of you anywhere.
I knew the day I met you, you were hiding from someone, doing everything in your power to keep yourself and your boys alive. ”
“Then you should understand anything I might have to offer.”