Page 94 of Married With Lies
“Here.” At the last minute she drapes a sheer black scarf over my shoulders. “Just a little bit of cover so you don’t start a riot.”
I’ve never felt sexier. And more self-conscious. My most fervent hope is not to fall in my stilt-like heels. All the sexiness will probably be cancelled the instant I fall on my face.
Kiki drops back and lets me enter alone. Appetizers are already on the table and there are multiple lively conversations creating a buzz. The first one to notice me is Richie Amato at the head of the table. He stops talking and leans back in his chair to take a long, appreciative look that will make me feel icky if I dwell on it.
A very loud wolf whistle pierces the room. I can’t tell where it comes from but now all heads are swiveling to find the cause.
Cale sits beside an empty chair. He’s facing away and he’s the last to turn around. When he does turn around, he freezes. Our eyes meet. His jaw does not drop but that might have been an unreasonable wish. He doesn’t move or blink as I cross the room with tiny steps and a silent prayer that I won’t take a tumble in these heels.
Once I succeed at the Olympic feat of reaching the table with no disasters, Cale stands and pulls out my chair.
“Missed you today.” I tip my face up for a kiss.
He grazes my lips, just barely, and moves his mouth next to my ear. “I think you need to borrow my jacket again.”
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
Cale sighs and waits for me to sit before plunking back into his own chair. I can’t be sure but he comes off as kind of moody. Is there a dress code no one told me about?
A couple of younger guys across the table are openly leering. One of them mutters a comment and the other one snorts with laughter. But their faces grow instantly pale when Cale’s head snaps in their direction. They look down, feigning sudden intense interest in the breadsticks on their plates.
“I think you two would be more comfortable sitting on the floor,” Cale says. “Since you can’t behave like men then you can eat like fucking dogs. Don’t you agree?”
All other conversations grind to a sudden halt. The two men who are probably around my age, maybe younger, glance around on a nervous hunt for allies. They find none.
“I think that’s a good idea,” says the big guy sitting across from us. Since yesterday I’ve learned he’s Vinny, Kiki’s husband. “They can come back to the adult table when they learn some respect.”
Richie finishes sawing at the slab of red meat on his plate and points with his steak knife. “You boys listen to your Uncle Vinny. And make your apologies.”
Incredibly, they mumble out words of apology and slide off their chairs. Everyone else returns to their wine and their appetizers while cracking jokes and acting like nothing odd just happened. Meanwhile, I’m sure my face is on fire with embarrassment.
“Think I’ll order the ziti,” Cale says and hands me a menu. “How about you?”
I move the tablecloth and peek under the table. Yes, there they are. The two young men are actually sitting cross-legged on the floor and miserably eating with their plates in their laps.
“Cale,” I hiss while grabbing his arm, “tell them they can come back to the table.”
He acts as if he doesn’t even hear me and takes a leisurely sip from his water glass.
This is ridiculous. I’ve now lost my appetite and only order a Caesar salad.
The two empty chairs sit there like an accusation. All I can see of the two men who are on the floor is the tops of their heads.
Kiki, who is unbothered by the plight of her nephews, is very loudly lavishing praise on my makeover. Cale barks at the waiter to bring him a shot of whiskey. The only other time I’ve seen him drink was the night of our wedding.
“Bring me one too,” I say to the waiter, and then add the word, “Please.”
Cale stares at me. There’s an unfriendly quality to his expression. I raise my chin and stare back.
Kiki raises her glass. “Cheers to the newlyweds. Cale and Sadie, here’s to a lifetime of happiness. Just hurry up and get going on that happiness because Donna’s still waiting to be a grandma.”
“Woohoo!” hoots Donna.
Our whiskey shots arrive. Cale downs his in one gulp. I try to do the same and choke on the first sip.
Kiki pats my back. Cale snorts out a laugh. I’m not a fan of whatever new attitude he’s sporting right now.
When the attention at the table has gone elsewhere, I take the opportunity to lean in and have a quiet chat with him.