Seconds earlier, she had been laughing.
Now she suddenly looked like the woman who had spent months avoiding restaurants.
She reached for her purse.
“I think we should leave.”
My hands started shaking with anger.
This was exactly what she had been afraid of.
Exactly why convincing her to come had taken an entire week.
Before I could respond, the woman laughed.
“You’ll thank me eventually.”
I stood.
“So humiliating strangers is your hobby?”
Mom touched my wrist.
“Daphne.”
But I was done watching her retreat.
The woman rolled her eyes.
“Someone needs to tell people the truth.”
I was trying to decide which of the thousand things in my head to say first when the kitchen doors suddenly swung open.
The head chef walked into the dining room.
I recognized him from the menu.
His name was Alaric.
He wasn’t carrying food.
He wasn’t smiling.
He walked directly toward our table.
Then he stopped beside Mom.
His face had gone pale.
He looked at the woman who had insulted her.
“You need to leave.”
She laughed.
“And who exactly are you?”
Alaric didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked toward one of the employees.
“Lock the front door.”
Everyone stared at him.
Even I did.
The waiter hesitated.
“Lock it?”
“Now.”
A second later, the deadbolt clicked.
The woman stopped smiling.
“What is this? You can’t trap me inside a restaurant.”
But Alaric was no longer looking at her.
He turned toward my mother.
“Molly?”
Mom froze.
Her purse slipped from her fingers.
“Alaric?”
The way she said his name immediately told me they weren’t strangers.
Alaric slowly crouched beside her chair.
“I thought that was you.”
Mom stared at him.
“You work here?”
He smiled faintly.
“I own the place.”
I looked between them.
