Page 32 of 7 Nights of Sin
I was tired enough that I just went along with it, going back to my room to change into leggings and a t-shirt. I could hear Kevin banging back into the house and the clink and clatter of dishes as he got things ready, and I let out a breath.
The last time we'd tried to have dinner together had been a disaster, but maybe this would be better. I'd keep my temper, and he wouldn't say anything stupid, and we could get through a meal together.
I was too tired to fight with him, anyway.
So I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, in time to see Kevin pouring rich red wine into two glasses.
I arched an eyebrow. "Is this a wine sort of dinner?"
He shrugged. "Sure, why not? I mean how many times in life are you eating steaks in Hawaii, right? Might as well live it up."
I considered resisting that for all of about five seconds before giving in that he was right. There was no reason not to enjoy ourselves. So I just nodded and moved to sit down at the table, watching him as he moved around the kitchen, plating things and laying out condiments and such.
I hadn't seen him in a kitchen in years, and I would have assumed that he was too busy or too rich to still know how to cook for himself, but there was an ease to his movements that spoke to practice, and it was hard to look away.
It helped that he had put his shirt back on.
I sat there watching until he came back to the table with two plates. He set down one in front of me, following it with the glass of wine, and then put the other plate down on the other side of the table, bringing over steak sauce and cheese and sour cream to go with the meal.
For the first bit I busied myself with my food. I cut into my potato and added cheese and butter and sour cream, stomach growling even louder as it all melted together into a delicious mass of dairy.
I put a little steak sauce on the meat and then cut into it, tasting a bite. Of course it was seasoned well, and it was the temp I liked, too.
He'd done a good job, not that I intended to tell him that.
He was too busy plowing through his own meal to even notice if I liked it anyway.
It was silent in the kitchen as we ate, just the scrape of forks and knives on the plates. I drained the first glass of wine quickly and reached for the bottle to pour another.
It was fine. I was relaxing after a long day. There was nothing wrong with that.
Kevin didn't comment either. He just smiled at me. "Steak okay?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. It's good." The wine was working its magic, making me feel more relaxed in his company than I had in the whole time I'd been working with him.
I finished that second glass and poured another. Just for good measure. Being angry all the time was exhausting, if I was being honest, and it was nice to be able to leave that behind for at least a little bit.
"So," Kevin said, speaking up again. "How was your day?"
I shrugged. "It was work. I'll have to get up and do it all over again tomorrow." For once I didn't tack on the part about it being his fault, and Kevin looked surprised.
"But you like your work, right? I mean it's what you always wanted."
I nodded, pushing a piece of asparagus around on the plate. "Sure," I said. "It's...it's the field I wanted to be in, and I'm doing work that I'm good at."
"But?"
"Who says there has to be a but?" I asked.
He gave me a look. "There's usually a but. I love my career, but there's buts."
I kept my eyes on my plate and shrugged. "It's harder than I thought it would be. To make a name for myself. I'm working hard, I know I am. I'm in the office until nine or ten at night multiple days a week. Clients like me, and I get results."
"But?" he asked again.
"But it's hard to get ahead. My boss takes a lot of the credit, and I've been gunning for a promotion for the last couple of years."
I didn't talk about that with a lot of people. I had friends, but a lot of them didn't understand why I wanted it so bad. More than one of them had mentioned that I already worked myself more than was healthy, so they didn't understand why I wanted to take on more responsibility.