Page 66 of Connectio
“Will!” I whisper-hiss, my eyes as wide as saucers. “What are you doing?”
“Setting the record straight.”
Quickly glancing around, my cheeks turn pink when I spot an older couple watching us. “Sit down! I believe you.”
“Not sure that’s gonna be good enough.”
“Will, please!”
He chuckles and lowers himself back down. “You honestly think I’d just flop it out here, in this restaurant?”
I lower my head to my hand, my heartrate decelerating. “I honestly don’t know what I think when it comes to you.”
He’s silent for a moment, so I look up.
“And that bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes, you’re… you’re unpredictable.”
He smiles, as if he’s figured me out. “You’re a bit of a control freak, aren’t you, Elizabeth?”
“No! I… I just like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
Will presses his lips together, as if to say “hm, interesting.” And then he asks, “So you speak French?”
“Yes, but only the little bit I picked up when I backpacked Europe during my gap year.”
He moves his cutlery and napkin to his right in a messy pile so he can rest his elbows on the table. “You backpacked Europe?”
“Sure did”—I pick up my menu—“much to my mother’s reluctance.”
“She wasn’t on board?”
“No.”
He pushes his menu aside.
I stare at it then at him. “You’re not even going to look?”
“No. I know what I’m having.”
“The Parma and chips?”
“The one and only.”
I’m tempted to order the same, given he’s so convicted, but decide to open the leather-bound folder and see what else they have on offer, scrolling my finger down the choices and stopping when I land on the venison eye fillet with truffle mash and steamed greens. Oh my goodness! Yumm. My stomach grumbles, but the fifty-dollar price tag next to it prompts me to keep scrolling.
“So why wasn’t your mum on board with you backpacking?” he probes.
“She didn’t want her eldest daughter roaming Europe on her own.”
“You backpacked on your own?”
“Uh huh. I do a lot of things on my own.”
A devious glint lights his eyes. “Like what… self-care?”
My mouth falls open like a fish, so I close it and keep scrolling. “I don’t know,” I say, my tone deliberately disinterested. “Like sleeping and bathing, going to the toilet, that sort of thing.”
