Chapter 27
After my brain recovers, something my heart fights to do, I straighten up, forcing my shoulders back, tablet balanced in my hand. I put on my customer voice.
“You guys look great today. What can I get you? Would you like an appetizer or whatever you’re in the mood for?” I say, the usual upbeat tone I’ve practiced a thousand times.
Lincoln just stares at me.
I feel my heartbeat drop straight into my stomach.
Damn it. Despite how I thought I’d feel, nothing prepared me for this. I feel a throb between my legs, and my heart is beating so freaking fast right now.
Damn, he looks so good. His hair is combed back; he looks like he just cut it recently. He’s freshly shaved, eyebrows freshly groomed. The way he’s looking at me is making me do doubles, and I don’t miss the look of annoyance on Sarah’s face.
Her eyes keep darting back and forth between Lincoln and me.
“Hello Gabby,” Lincoln says, finally breaking the ice.
I freeze for half a second, stuck between not knowing whether to be professional or acknowledge that I know him. The boss said to keep personal things out of work. That’s grounds for firing, so I have no idea what to say.
Sarah doesn’t say anything.
“Hello sir. What can I get you today?” I ask as I smile at Sarah, too.
The smile is very practiced and fake. Lincoln gives me a soft smile in return, his eyes softening as if he’s seen me for the first time… like really seeing me. It’s a look he used to give me. The look right before he’d slide into bed with me or start kissing me.
God damn it, why am I thinking about this now?
Fucking hell.
Why now? Why did I have to get this table?
There are people at other tables doing double takes, some of them pointing.
Rude.
They must recognize him from his interview on TV. Outside of that, he is very handsome. But Sarah is also very beautiful. A few of the men are looking at her, but most people are looking at Lincoln, which makes me think they know exactly who he is.
Sarah snaps rudely, yanking me out of my trance.
“Are you deaf?” the bitch asks.
“Sorry about that. What would you like?” I say with a smile.
If I could only… ooooo!!!
If I could only get a minute in a room alone with this fucking cunt.
Smile, Gabby. I tell myself.
Fuck-ing smile.
Pretend that these are strangers and not your ex-husband who broke your heart… and is currently sitting here having a grand old time with the woman he cheated on you with.
Sarah rolls her eyes and points to the menu, her finger tapping near the top.
Then she says it… perfectly, like she was born in France.
“We’ll start with the Coquilles de Mer à la Truffe Blanche.”
The dish is a nightmare to pronounce unless you’ve studied abroad, but it rolls off her tongue like she’s auditioning for a Michelin commercial. Of course.
“What do you want, baby?” she asks, smiling at Lincoln and putting on an extra show that I know is just for me.
I type down her order, wishing the chef would spit in Sarah’s food. Then I look to my right where Lincoln sits, elbows resting on the table, forearms angled forward, fingers interlacing slowly and neatly, like he has all the time in the world.
There’s a calmness in the way he does it, a kind of quiet elegance I never noticed before.
Lincoln looks at the menu and then smiles up at me with the same smile he always gave me when he was trying to flirt.
God, this is so embarrassing.
I feel my eyebrows crease, and I immediately put my head down to stare at the tablet so I don’t have to look at him.
He broke your heart, Gabby.
He fucked this woman and broke your heart.
He didn’t care about you.
He cares more about her, and now he’s sitting here WITH her.
But a part of me, some angry, petty part, wonders… wouldn’t it be justice if I got Lincoln to cheat on Sarah?
Lincoln was mine first. And Sarah clearly cares about him; anyone can see it. Even in the interview she was salivating all over him. Fucking desperate ass.
Then Lincoln asks,
“What would you recommend?”
I don’t lift my eyes from the tablet. I keep my voice professional, upbeat.
“Well, the Herb-Crusted Lamb Provencal is popular tonight, and so is the Saffron Risotto with Poached Prawns. If you want something richer, the Rosemary-Cedar Salmon with Dijon Cream is really—”
“Do you know all the dishes on the menu?” he asks, that deep voice of his dripping into my system inconveniently.
I have to fight the urge to look at him.
“I’ve only tried two of them, but I know what each of them have in terms of ingredients,” I tell him, keeping my eyes on the tablet.
Lincoln leans back, drumming his fingers slowly and gracefully on the table. Speaking of grace, he seems to carry a grace and elegance he never did before. It’s not like he was ever clumsy or anything, but he just seems… different.
When I risk a peek at him, I notice something in his face. A hint of sadness. Or maturity. Whatever. Maybe he’s just acting like this because he’s at this place.
“Why don’t you pick a dish for me?” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Um. What are you in the mood for?” I ask, still trying to be professional, looking down at my tablet.
“You tell me.”
When I look up at him and then over at Sarah, I feel stuck.
Sarah looks pissed.
“Babe don’t waste her time, she has other people to go serve. I don’t want to wait too long either. I like to give good tips to my waiters who are spiffy,” Sarah says, her condescending glare locked on me, her little smile spelling murder.
My mouth is open, ready to say something, but I stay frozen, staring at Lincoln instead.
“Why are we in a rush?” he asks, tilting his head at Sarah, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Because she has other people to serve.”
“They can wait. We’re paying for this. Or rather I’m paying for it this time around, so… I want to enjoy my experience.”
He smiles tightly at her, like he’s putting her back in place without saying it outright.
I want to laugh so bad when Sarah’s face crumples and she rolls her eyes like a spoiled brat.
It's very uncomfortable watching Sarah and Lincoln together because they're both dressed very well, and they're both so pretty. It feels as though they had been made for each other. No wonder people want to see them as a couple.
They already look like one.
My heart is not supposed to feel broken. I'm supposed to be over this man. There's that part of me that still cares about him, but I'm not giving him that. He doesn't deserve any more love than the basic humanity I would show him for him having once been my spouse.
“Anyway as I was saying, why don't you pick a dish for me?” he directs his focus back to me.
“Well…” I start looking at the menu. Then I begin rattling off some of the different dishes, scrolling through them on my tablet, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. Before I can get through even the second one, Lincoln interrupts me.
“Gabby, you know me better than that,” he remarks. “If you were going to order something for me… what would you pick?”
“I have no way of knowing that, sir,” I say, stuttering.
“Of course you do. We knew each other for well over a decade, and you know my palette better than I do. So… Gabrielle…”
The way everything stands still the minute he says my name sends a shiver up my spine. There's another throb between my legs. “... Look at me… and tell me what you think I'm in the mood for.”
His smile almost comes off as mischievous, like there's a secret he's not telling that he knows only I can unlock. Usually I can tell, but he’s hiding his face, so, at the moment, I can't tell if he's flirting with me or being an asshole or if he's just being kind.
I take a breath. “You’ll like the rosemary-baked halibut, or the braised short ribs,” I say.
“And with that, can I have the Le.. Le… Shhh-”
“Le Ciel Rouge Reserve,” Sarah cuts in for him.
“Yeah that,” he smiles. “It’s the reco—”
I cut him off, already typing into my tablet. “You can't have that wine because it's very acidic and you have a problem with that if you have anything acidic after 7:00 p.m. unless you drink a bunch of water which makes you sick so don't be stupid.”
Then I catch myself, my eyes widening, gasping softly. “I-I'm so sorry. I don't… I'm so sorry,” I stutter nervously.
“You should be. Where's your manager?” Sarah asks, looking around.
“That won’t be necessary. I'm so sorry, it's been a long day and—”
“I don't give a damn if it's been a long day. This is your job. We have jobs too you know, and when we come here we expect to be served. We're paying for a level of excellence at this place and you are not it,” Sarah says with an easy tone that tells me she places herself above me in station.
I bow with a quick head nod and smile politely, “You're so right. If you really need the manager I can go get them for you. But if you would let me, I'd love to make the rest of your night memorable and a pleasurable experience.”
I need to get myself together because I don't want to lose my job.
Sarah blinks at me, still with that simmering flame in her eyes.
“We're not getting any manager. You're doing really well Gabrielle. I'll have that order. I trust you,” he says, smiling at me kindly.
His eyes look so… somber. It's like he's looking straight through my soul. All the guards I've put up around my heart, it's like he's standing on a golden ladder and peeking over them with the confidence of someone knowing he'll get in eventually. I feel violated.
Swallowing loudly, I nod and turn on my heels to head back with the order.
Why do I feel like crying right now?
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