Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Eight
True to his word, the restaurant isn’t far at all, so we make it with barely any traffic. The limo pulls up and Julian is quick to exit, adjusting his jacket and extending his hand back into the car for me. I reach out with ease, taking his hand and sliding out of the limo. He wraps my arm around his elbow, escorts me into a rather quaint three-story building and guides me up the stairs. Once we reach the top we’re greeted by a hostess, who looks at us both with impeccable ambivalence, which suits her job – especially in this city.

“Reservation?”

“Easton,” Julian replies.

After a quick glance, she grabs two menus from her podium and leads us out onto a gorgeous rooftop dining set up with people scattered at various tables just enjoying their evening. It has a somewhat rustic yet elevated décor, with structures and support frames that really have no purpose other than to allow lighting and garlands to hang and divide certain areas from others. Each light from the rafters and the ones placed in various shrubs around the area act as little spotlights, making this look like we’re dining out at a fairytale garden.

We’re escorted to a two-seated table where Julian immediately pulls my, seat out for me. I smile at him and take my seat, helping him as he pushes my chair in. He sits in front of me, and we take our menus. The hostess is speaking, but I tune her out as my eyes become glued to the spectacular view. The sun is setting casting a golden glow around the clouds and creating this mauve hue over the city with the Hollywood Hills perfectly visible in the distance. I can see why Julian brought me here. This view alone is breathtaking.

“Lani?” he calls out.

I snap out of it and turn my attention to him, “Hmm?”

He smiles, “What would you like to drink?”

“Oh. Club soda, please,” I tell the hostess.

The hostess walks off – not eager to make conversation – and I take the chance to open the menu, but as I do, I can feel eyes on me. I look up and see Julian, staring at me intently, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Was this a bad idea?” he cautiously asks.

I blink at him, taken aback by the question, “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve just seemed distracted since we got in the car. If I have said or done something, crossed a line; whatever it is, you can tell me,” he says, his voice coated in desperation.

I sigh and place the menu down, “You haven’t done anything wrong. I am extremely touched and grateful that you did all this…it just makes me feel very confused.”

“Confused?” he echoes.

“Beautiful restaurant, exquisite view and you being sweet, patient and caring. It makes me all the more angry that you did what you did because I just wish we could go back before it all happened,” I sigh, that forlorn feeling creeping up again.

He sighs, almost defeated, leaning forward on his elbows as he scrubs his hands down his face. “I have played that night over and over a million times in my mind wishing to every deity that has ever existed that I could take it back. I know you hate me for it, and I deserve it, but believe me, no one hates me more than I hate myself. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found something real and I fucking nuked it. That alone was bad enough but then I think, if I hadn’t done that, you would have stayed at work that night. We would have talked, and I’d have been a huge distraction during your shift, but it would have meant you were safe.” His eyes become glassy with unshed tears; his nose starting to turn a soft shade of red as he begins to sniffle.

“Maybe. It might have spared me the pain of that night, but I think everything that has happened has been a clear indication it was going to happen one way or another,” I retort despondently.

“Lani, you are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and I mean that inside and out. There isn’t much I’ve regretted in my life, but hurting you is something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

“Has all this taking me in and looking after me been you trying to make amends?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t really believe in that. I believe you can try to be better and make better choices in the future, but you can never take back something you did or erase the hurt you caused someone. I can own up to it, and I do, but I don’t believe a few cooked meals and a luxury apartment can ease that hurt. In some people, sure, but you’re not superficial. It’s one of the things I love about you,” he says wistfully.

It makes me feel a little better to hear him say that. I don’t want him giving me useless platitudes or trying to buy back my affection. It would only cheapen me and treat what he did as something that can be brushed under the carpet like it wasn’t that big a deal because, to me, it was a very big deal.

“Every day has felt like a battle. First, it’s the battle to wake up and just get through the day. Then I see you and it becomes a battle between hating you and being overwhelmingly grateful. You took me in and gave me protection and sanctuary when I was feeling like those things had been stripped from me. I don’t want to be stuck in a mental tug-of-war anymore. This evening is the most normal I have felt in weeks. It’s the safest I’ve felt in weeks.” Tears spring in my eyes, but I don’t try to force them back. “It might just seem like silly makeup and clothes, but it’s not. For the first time since I was attacked, I was able to look in the mirror and see me. The me who got up every day and went to work just glad I was able to do something for my family. I looked at my reflection and I didn’t see a victim looking back at me, and in that moment I realised she’s still there and I can get her back. You’re helping me get her back. So this isn’t just a fancy dinner or you throwing trinkets at me. It feels like a second chance at life.” I reach across the table and take his hands in mine, holding them firmly. “Thank you, Julian. Thank you for being willing to be something I needed when I needed it. I can never repay you for this.”

The tears build in his eyes until they can no longer be contained. His sapphire eyes sparkle as the tears slowly roll down his cheeks. He lifts my hands to his lips and places a tender kiss on the back of my hands, laying his forehead against them – almost in prayer.

“When I heard you were attacked…I felt like my world had ended. You breaking up with me hurt tremendously, but that was on me, and I knew I’d have to live with that. But the thought of living in a world where you didn’t exist…it was unbearable. I can accept you never forgiving me, as long as it means you’re safe and you’re happy. I just want you to be happy, Lani,” he whispers, his voice breaking as his tears strangle him.

“Then let’s focus on being happy because right now I feel really happy,” I smile, the tears threatening to ruin all of Monique’s hard work.

Julian sits back, lifting his napkin and wiping the tears from his face, “Usually I get paid for this much emotion in public,” he jokes.

I chuckle, lifting my napkin to carefully dry the tears from my eyes while trying to preserve my makeup. A second later a waiter brings us our drinks and I’m quick to collect and raise mine.

“Here’s to…forgiveness and trying to focus on the good,” I say wholeheartedly.

Julian gulps, the tears returning to his eyes as he collects his drink and raises it. “To focusing on the good things.”

We clink our glasses and take a sip as the sun sets over LA, and as the city is bathed in the sun’s warm glow, I feel a part of me start to heal. Tonight, I will enjoy my freedom and embrace happiness. I can’t give up and surrender to the hurt and the fear. I don’t want to live as a victim. I want to be a survivor. So after tonight, I’m going to start surviving.