Chapter 15
The first time I said yes to dinner, it rained.
David picked a small restaurant with no cameras, no society people, no polished gossip.
I wore a blue dress I bought myself.
Not borrowed.
Not discounted because I needed it.
Mine.
David stood when I arrived.
Old-fashioned.
Nervous.
It made me smile.
“You look terrified,” I said.
“I negotiate billion-dollar contracts.”
“Good for you.”
“This is worse.”
I laughed.
Dinner was careful at first.
Then honest.
We talked about Elena.
About Leo.
About my mother.
About the kind of childhood David had, full of money and silence.
He asked about my dreams before domestic work.
I told him I had wanted to study child psychology.
He said, “You still could.”
I almost snapped that not everyone could just decide a life into existence.
But then I stopped.
Because he was not dismissing the difficulty.
He was offering belief.
“I’m thirty-one,” I said.
“Not dead.”
I laughed again.
He smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You laugh like you forgot you’re allowed.”
That one hurt.
Because it was true.
After dinner, he drove me home.
He did not try to kiss me.
At my door, he said, “Thank you.”
“For dinner?”
“For trusting me with one evening.”
I looked at him.
“I’m trusting slowly.”
May you like
“I’ll take slowly.”
And he did.
