Daphne gave him a soft smile. “It’s not. I am happy that when you met me, the real me, you liked me enough to ask me out. I don’t know why Ellery did what she did. She’s going through some things right now, and we’re not really on the best terms. But the truth is I’m very happy to be here with you.”
His gaze reflected pleasure at her words. “Okay, so since we truly don’t know that much about each other after all, I guess we get to do this whole first-date thing the way it was intended. So, baby . . . what’s your sign?”
Daphne managed a laugh. “My birthday is next month. I’m turning forty, by the way. I’m approaching over the hill, so if you want to ask for those steaks to go, I’ll understand.”
“I don’t eat cold steak, so you’re stuck with me on this date. Besides, you look maybe thirty-one or thirty-two years old. If that.”
“But I didn’t get carded,” she said.
“Well, it’s a classy restaurant. They would never do something so lowbrow,” he said with another grin.
“And if they had carded me?”
“Then they can see, quite obviously, that you look too young to drink.”
“Good answer.” She laughed.
The early discomfort began to melt, and for the next hour and a half, they chatted about everything from the upcoming holidays to places they’d traveled to favorite actors. By the time the check came, Daphne had almost forgotten about the odd circumstance that had brought them here. She’d had such a good time, enjoyed his charm and humor, and felt nice, warm fuzzies when she thought about the possibility of a good night kiss. It was a good first date.
Until Ellery walked by.
And saw them.
They were just about to slide from the booth and leave when Ellery walked by with two of her friends from work. They’d obviously just gotten off because they were dressed to sell.
Daphne opened her mouth to say hello but snapped it closed when she saw the coldness in her daughter’s eyes. Total disdain layered with surprise, likely at seeing her mother with Evan, shone within the depths. Then her daughter turned her head and kept walking, giving her own mother a direct cut.
The hurt was like an ice pick plunged into the depths of Daphne’s heart.
She must have made a noise, because Evan, who was smart enough to figure out the dynamics on display, stood and assisted her from the booth, taking her elbow and then tucking her close in a semihug that normally would have been the beginning of something flirty and intimate, but instead felt more like someone tossing her a life jacket in a sudden storm.
“Let’s just go,” he said, his voice tender.
He felt sorry for her.
It was in that moment that anger planted itself in her soul. Or perhaps the seeds were already there, sown by too many years of making the most of every situation, smoothing everyone else’s ruffled feathers, and pretending her feelings weren’t the most important. She’d spent last weekend lying for her daughter after she abandoned her own damned party. Then she’d spent the week getting terse emails and texts from her “assistant,” who no longer saw the value in working from her mother’s home and refused to discuss anything more personal than hotel accommodations for the tour. The week had been strained, and Daphne’s nerves felt like taut piano wire awaiting the first strike.
She wanted to march over to her daughter, who sat with her friends, smiling at the waiter in that charming manner that rendered her the best service, and ask her how she was paying for dinner at an expensive restaurant when she had crushing credit card debt. Or ask her why she had lied to Evan and strung him along on a relationship that couldn’t exist. Or . . . or . . .
She shouldn’t. It was striking low and being petty.
But then she looked again at the sympathy in Evan’s eyes.
“Let me just say hello to my daughter,” she said before she could think better of it.
Straightening her shoulders, she plastered a smile on her face and walked toward their table.
“Hi, Mrs. Witt,” Rachel said. The rather plain girl had come to the party last weekend, but Daphne hadn’t spoken to her beyond a polite hello and “Pass the chardonnay.” The other woman had been there, too, but Daphne couldn’t recall her name.