What Her Dad Doesn't Know(23)

I shake my head, but I don’t say anything else. I give up. Andrew will just have to see it. I tried to warn him, but he’s so... so happy about our engagement that he refuses to see reality. I just hope that their friendship can survive it.

Our luggage ends up being the last to come out, so by the time we are leaving the airport, we’re running late. It takes us at least an hour to get to the restaurant, and I spend most of it fretting over what to say and how to say it. I worry about whether we should show up together, or pretend we came separately. I’m not sure whether holding hands is the best way to break it without having to say anything, or if we should wait until we tell my parents to show any PDA. Basically I’m a big ball of nerves, and I can tell by the end of the car ride, even Andrew is getting a little antsy.

The Blue Note Steakhouse is busy tonight. It’s a large restaurant, with big leather booths and waiters in crisp shirts and black vests. We go on special occasions usually- birthdays, graduation, that kind of thing. The fact that we’re going tonight tells my parents that we’re celebrating something, though there’s only a slim chance they will. I think that maybe we should wait until after dinner, and tuck my ring into my purse. Andrew shakes his head, but he’s willing to do it my way he says if it’ll help me feel better about it.

I take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay, I reassure myself. I see my parents in the back of the restaurant, in a cozy U-shaped booth. There’s a candle casting a warm glow. My dad was a husky man, but time and lack of exercise has softened him up. He still has the ramrod straight spine of a soldier though. My mother is tiny beside him, her light blonde hair swept up in a neat chignon. She used to be a dancer, and still teaches ballet and jazz. I look like her, though I’ve got my dad’s midnight black hair. They look happy, and my mom is whispering something to my dad. The both of them chuckle, and I can see how much they love one another. Is it so wrong to want that for myself too? I hope it isn’t. I slide past the maitre d’ and head inside. My parents don’t see us until we’re at the table.

“Noelle!” my dad says happily, standing up from the booth to give me a hug. “And Andrew! How are you doing these days?”

My mom stands up too, and I give her a hug as Andrew and my dad clap shoulders. My dad takes my coat and hangs it up, and I slide into the center of the table with my mom.

“I hope you don’t mind. We took the liberty of ordering the wine,” my dad says.

As if on cue, the sommelier shows up with a bottle of Cabernet. He shows us the bottle so we can check the vintage, carefully pulls out the cork, and gives my dad a tasting. He swirls it, nods to say that it’s good, and then the sommelier carefully pours out the wine into glasses for us. I take a large, fortifying gulp, barely tasting anything before taking another. I can see the sommelier frown a little, but I don’t care. Right now, I need a buzz to relax or I’m going to blow this before we get to the main course. A waiter appears and introduces himself, then hands Andrew and I a menu. I don’t bother opening it. We’ve been here so many times that I already know what I want: the aged ribeye.

“Do you want to share the crab cakes?” my mom asks me, but I shake my head. I don’t have much of an appetite. I’ll be lucky if I can finish half of my steak.

We give our orders and the waiter leaves with the heavy menus. Now that there’s nothing to distract us, my dad leans forward.

“So,” he says. “What’s the big news that you wanted to share with us?”

I freeze. I was hoping that maybe we’d be able to finish our dinner before we’d get to it. Andrew glances over at me, waiting for my cue, but I can’t decide on what to do or say. My mom sees his gaze and looks at me quizzically. I look at Andrew, helpless. Should I lie? Should I say it now? He decides to make the decision for us. He reaches out his hand and closes it over mine.

My parents’ smiles freeze.

“Andrew...?” my dad asks.

“Honey?” my mom questions.

“Noelle and I have an announcement to make,” Andrew says, his gaze steady upon me. “And I hope that you’ll be very happy with us.”

“What announcement? What’s going on?” my dad says sharply. His caterpillar brows draw together, and thats when I know this is not going to turn out well.

“I...” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry dad. Mom. Andrew and I have been seeing each other.”

“We’re planning on getting married,” Andrew adds.

My dad falls back onto the leather seat as if I punched his gut. My mom’s expression is uncomprehending, as though I’d started spouting French at her.