The thought of my picture being taken and my dad in the same moment is enough to make me cringe.
Not the message I want to send Nathan right now though.
Truth is, I don’t know what I want from him right now. It’s all a bit too much to even take in, to be honest.
“How about we just eat?” he finally suggests, looking slightly crestfallen but reminding me how hungry I still am.
The first course was amazing, but these five star servings aren’t really filling.
I hope they have more steak on the plate than they did pasta.
I readily agree and hope it gets me off the hook for the moment at least, so I can think of something more interesting to talk about.
With a wave of his hand, he gets the attention of the manager again, and in moments we each have a sizzling steak each in front of us.
The main course is much better sized and gives Nathan and me the perfect chance to talk about something different for a change.
Something we both love: food.
For a while at least, I forget about feeling self-conscious or worrying about my dad or anyone else.
It’s just Nathan and me eating a great meal as we try and outdo each other on our weaknesses when it comes to food, but I can’t really see his points as being negative.
“But look at you,” I exclaim. “Don’t tell me you can’t eat whatever you want. I just have to look at carbs and I put on another five pounds,” I protest.
“I’m pretty careful with what I eat,” he tries to convince me and himself before he breaks out in a broad smile.
“Ah, you’re right. Who am I kidding? I eat a lot, and some of it is the wrong thing, but I’m a big guy, always have been. If I don’t eat a certain amount of food in a day, I’m useless. Dizzy spells, the whole bit,” he chuckles, helping himself to a huge mouthful of his steak.
A man that likes to eat as well as write, and who’s looking for love.
I mean, isn’t this like the ultimate man?
Trying to ignore my own doubts, I actually end up enjoying myself more than ever. I think we both needed to eat as well as air some of our feelings.
But as the plates are cleared, and me having no room for dessert, I sense the whole evening might become more awkward for both of us once we go back to our suite.
“You must have a big day ahead tomorrow?” I observe, taking note of the time again.
He looks pained at the thought, and after I decide not to have a dessert, he suggests coffee.
“If I have coffee now, I’ll be up all night,” I hear myself tell him, sounding like an old woman even though it’s totally the case.
He shoots me a wistful look like maybe he wants to keep me up all night, but the expression passes.
Like maybe he has something else to keep me up all night?
The thought gives me a chill and a flush of warmth at the same time.
We’ve had the best meal and it’s getting late. I’m usually yawning by this hour, but I could literally watch and listen to Nathan all day, but eventually, he agrees with me.
“It is getting late,” he says, checking his Rolex.
I’ve never seen one up close and on him, it’s the most fitting thing.
Big, expensive, and classy as hell. Just like he is.
But he’s just using it for what it was made for, telling time.
“Don’t forget to call your dad,” he says absently, looking around for the manager, signaling that we’re done here.
“I don’t really have to call him,” I lie. A little white lie.
I know I don’t really have to call him, but I also know I should.
A part of my anxiety from being here tonight, with Nathan, is knowing that my dad is worried sick about me being in a strange city all on my own.
I can’t help but think though what would worry him more. Thinking I was all alone or knowing that I was alone with a man like Nathan Cartwright.
Older than my dad even, and certainly a man who could and probably does have whatever he wants in life.
Hundred thousand dollar Rolex being a case in point.
His watch is worth more than our whole apartment, twice what my dad earns in a year, and it’s something I know Nathan wouldn’t lose sleep over if it went missing or got damaged.
He’d just replace it.
The closer I get to the edge in my mind. The Nathan Cartwright precipice, the more I want to look over the edge.
The more I want to see.
But I also know that the more I look, the more I’m gonna have that bizarre urge to jump.
Even though I know I’ve already fallen.