Chapter 15
He went completely still.
She laughed softly.
“See? Sometimes normal works.”
Their first official date took place at a small neighborhood diner on the North Side.
No private dining room.
No security standing over their table.
No chef preparing a seven-course menu.
Just two cheeseburgers, fries, strong coffee, and an elderly waitress named June who called everyone “honey.”
Dominic looked around the restaurant with faint suspicion.
“Do you come here often?”
“Since college.”
“Why?”
“Because the food is good.”
He examined his burger.
“It’s remarkably large.”
“That’s generally considered a positive feature.”
He took a bite.
Then another.
Claire watched him.
“Well?”
Dominic swallowed.
“I may have severely overestimated the importance of expensive restaurants.”
She laughed.
For the next two hours, they talked.
Not about acquisitions.
Not about quarterly earnings.
Not about the people who feared him.
They talked about childhood.
About mistakes.
About loneliness.
Dominic told her about his mother, who had loved gardening but rarely felt safe enough to leave their family’s estate.
Claire told him about her father, who had once worked three consecutive double shifts to pay for her college textbooks.
“He hated accepting help,” she said.
“Sounds familiar.”
“From you, that’s practically a compliment.”
Dominic smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“Claire, there are things about my life you have every reason to dislike.”
She set down her coffee.
“I know.”
“My past isn’t clean. Some parts of my present aren’t either.”
“I know that, too.”
He looked at her.
“I’m taking steps to change what I can. But that doesn’t erase what I’ve done.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
She reached across the table and rested her hand near his.
“I won’t pretend your money makes everything okay. And I won’t be someone you use to convince yourself you’re a good man.”
He absorbed the words without looking away.
“Fair.”
“But I also believe people can make better choices than the ones they’ve made before.”
“Even men like me?”
“Especially men who finally understand they have choices.”
He looked down at her hand.
Then slowly placed his beside it.
“There’s something I need you to understand,” she continued.
“Tell me.”
“If we’re going to do this, I need to be able to disagree with you.”
“You’ve never had difficulty doing that.”
She smiled.
“And I need to be able to leave if I decide this isn’t right for me.”
The words hurt him.
She could see that.