“I’m afraid I have one more request,” I said, feeling a surge of cool, sharp clarity. “I want the server to introduce us to your boss properly.”
For the first time all evening, I could see the whole night clearly.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Steven whispered.
“Try me,” I replied.
“Please send that bottle of Dom Pérignon to the table behind us,” I told the server, gesturing toward Eleanor. “With Steven’s absolute compliments.”
Steven turned a shade of pale that clashed with his expensive blazer.
“You can’t do that,” he hissed, leaning over the table. “That bottle costs four hundred dollars, and my boss is sitting there with her wife!”
I arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “I thought you wanted to impress her with your generosity and workplace culture, Steven.”
Steven turned a shade of pale that clashed with his expensive blazer.
“She’s looking at me,” he whispered, his hands trembling as he gripped his napkin. “Cancel it. Tell them it was a mistake.”
Before I could answer, a tall, poised woman stood up and walked toward our table. It was Eleanor, looking sharper and more intimidating than I had imagined.
“Steven,” she said, her voice cool and steady. “What a surprise to run into you here.”
Steven stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. “Eleanor! I was just… we were just celebrating a successful first week on the project.”
Eleanor turned her gaze toward the woman standing beside her. She placed a hand firmly on her wife’s waist and introduced her with a proud smile.
“This is my wife, Sarah. She’s a culinary journalist, which is why we’re currently critiquing the soufflé.”
Before I could answer, a tall, poised woman stood up and walked toward our table.
I looked at Sarah, who was beaming, and then back at Steven. His expression was a mixture of confusion and dawning horror as he realized his standard of ‘skinny women’ had just been weaponized against his own ego.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I said, standing up to shake their hands. “Steven was just telling me all about his specific ‘standards’ for women and his thoughts on professional etiquette.”
Steven lunged toward me, whispering through gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare, you crazy date. Sit down and be quiet.”
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed as she looked past him at me. “Actually, I don’t need you to tell me, dear. I’ve been sitting directly behind you for the last forty minutes.”
The restaurant seemed to go silent as her words hung in the air.
“I heard everything, Steven,” she continued, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet space. “I heard your comments about the food, the disparagement of your ex, and your disgusting lecture on what a woman’s body should look like.”
