Three and a Half Weeks(125)
No. I look like a coed on the first day of the fall semester, not a woman going out for dinner with her rich, gorgeous boyfriend who may or may not propose marriage to her. I quickly strip off the clothes I just put on and begin again.
First I don a black satin shelf bra that pushes me up so my cleavage is way more impressive—with the added advantage of ventilation for my nips. Going to Ian’s closet, I scan the side where I’ve left some of my clothes. This time I select a slinky vee-neck Merlot-red dress; it hugs my body as if it were tailor-made for it. I choose the diamond pendant Ian gave to me—it looks perfect showcased in the plunging vee of the neckline, dangling right at the start of said cleavage, and I slip on sheer stockings and four-inch black heels. The shoes are Ian’s favorites as they are not only stilettos, but they show just the barest hint of toe cleavage, which he finds sexy. I wrap a black pashmina scarf around my throat three times and tie it, and don a black coat the exact length of the dress, which I leave hanging open so the dress plays peekaboo. Now when I check the mirror, I nod in satisfaction. Perfect.
When I walk into the living room, Ian is on his laptop looking grim but he glances up at me as I enter and his eyes begin to shine.
“Beautiful, Ella.” Closing the computer, he stands and takes my hand, kisses it, and leads me to the hall where he grabs his coat from the closet. We go into the entrance hall to wait for the elevator.
The restaurant is housed in what used to be a crumbling old mansion, Ian informs me. Rather than knock down walls to make a large dining room on each floor, the owners of Oscar’s took that approach with the main floor only. On the upper floors, they left all the bedrooms intact and instead created private dining rooms, each decorated with a different Academy Award-winning film in mind. There is a room dedicated to The Sting, a Gone with the Wind room, my favorite and the one I want is the Casablanca room. They have West Side Story, Mutiny on the Bounty, Amadeus, Lord of the Rings, Titanic, and more. There are fifteen theme dining rooms, all told.
Somehow Ian managed to anticipate the room I’d want and he reserved it earlier in the day so we get the one designed to look like Rick’s Café Américain.
The maître d’ shows us to our room and then quietly exits, while our waiter enters to take our drink orders. Ian orders a bottle of white—a Pinot Grigio—to be served with dinner and a bottle of champagne to be chilled for afterward. Surely that means what I think it means.
Scanning the menu, I’m completely undecided as to what to order. I’m vacillating between three dishes and when I look up, Ian is watching me, amused.
“Shall I order for both of us, Ella?”
“Yes, thank you, Ian.”
The meal he orders is superb: a cold cucumber and dill soup, halibut with potato pave, and sautéed spinach. For dessert we have fresh berries with crème fraîche and… Perrier Jouet, chilled to perfection.
“Oh my God, if I ate like this every day I’d never fit into any of my clothes.”
Smiling, Ian feeds me a strawberry. “I like to see you eat well, Ella.”
“Mmm. Thank you for the delicious dinner and the sparkling company, most of all. I’m sorry if I upset you earlier. I just want to resolve this whole thing in my mind so I can put it behind me. Since Lucien was magically there in front of me, I figured it was a safe way to do it.”
Ian scoffs “Magically? He was stalking you, Ella.” He sighs, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes.
He needs a haircut, I notice, and then try to give him my full attention. There’s something on his mind.
Clearing his throat, he finally says, “I have something to share with you, too, Ella. I’m just not quite ready to do so. Will you be patient with me? I promise that soon I’ll explain everything to you, what’s been going on at Excalibur… and why I’ve been in frequent bad tempers of late.” His hand reaches across the table to cover mine and he squeezes. “Will you bear with me for a little while?”
“You mean you’re not always this grouchy? Well, that’s a relief,” I say, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. He smiles but just for a nanosecond so I know he wants me to be serious.
“Of course I will bear with you, Ian, but I definitely would like you to share with me. If I learned anything from my awful experience at Lucien’s, it’s that it’s far better to be honest with the people you care about… because you never know when you’re going to run out of time.”
He kisses my hand. “Hopefully we both have lots of time ahead of us… but you’re absolutely correct. I’m… working on it, Ella, on sharing, but it doesn’t come so easily to me.”