Chapter 34: Thirty Four

Declan pulled up in front of a building that looked like it belonged in a movie, the kind of place with valet service, soft golden lighting, and a host in a suit who somehow made you feel underdressed and poor even if you weren’t. I had never been to a place like this. My parents weren't rich and I was a poor student.

I stared out the window, blinking.

“This," I swallowed, "is where we’re going?”

Declan smiled as he turned off the engine. “Unless you’d rather grab street food and eat in the park.”

I would have loved that, actually.

“Honestly, that sounds less intimidating.”

He chuckled and got out, walking around to open my door again. The gesture shouldn’t have made my stomach flip. But it did. “Let me treat you to a nice dinner, dove.”

As I stepped out, I glanced up at the building. It was all pale stone, arched windows, candlelight glowing inside. “This place is serious. And boujee.”

“I figured if I’m trying to prove I can do things properly,” he said, offering his arm again, “might as well go all in.”

I hesitated for a second before sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow. “How rich are you, exactly?”

He snorted. “I’m not, dove. I am but a poor academic. Boring, single, broke.”

“Right,” I said, pretending to study the valet. “Because most boring, single men take their, “ I paused, “Whatever I am, to Michelin star restaurants.”

He glanced down at me. “Date,” he said simply. “You’re my date.”

My chest tightened. A flush crept up my neck, and I tightened my hold on him.

The host greeted us like Declan came here often. Which was maybe even more surprising.

We were seated in a quiet corner, he had asked for this specific spot. I had to be honest, he had chosen well. The view from the window was lovely, and we were not surrounded by people. Plus, it was cozy.

A waiter appeared, poured water from a bottle I couldn’t pronounce, and handed us menus that didn’t have prices listed. I glanced across the table, raising an eyebrow.

He caught it. “What?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “This place is really expensive.”

He smiled, reaching out to lightly tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “You deserve nothing less.”

I looked down at my menu to hide the way my heart was doing that fluttery thing again.

He was doing it again, saying the exact thing I didn’t know I wanted to hear until I heard it.

We ordered, I let him do it for us as he was effortlessly navigating the wine list, while I was pretending I knew what half the dishes were. Once the waiter disappeared, he leaned forward slightly.

“You look much more at ease tonight.”

I laughed under my breath. “That’s a lie. I’ve been in flight or fight mode since I put on perfume.”

“I noticed the perfume,” he said. “Its sweet.” His voice dropped, “But I’m addicted to the way you smell without it. All mine.”

My cheeks warmed. “There it is,” he murmured.

“You don’t always have to be so…disarming,” I said, smiling despite myself.

“No,” he said. “But I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Blushing for me. Open.” Our fingers touched. “Happy.”

I held his gaze for a beat too long.

He was warm tonight. Not guarded. Not retreating. And I found myself softening, open and happy, like he had said.

“You’re different when it’s less complicated,” I said quietly.

“So are you,” he replied, just as softly.

The candlelight flickered between us, and for a long moment,  I was silent.

The waiter returned with our appetizers, something delicate and beautifully plated that I didn’t have the heart to touch right away. I just wanted to admire it and maybe take some pictures of it. Declan reached for his glass of wine, but his eyes stayed on me.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice low and gentle.

I nodded, spearing a piece of something that tasted really tart. It was really good, though. “Yeah. Just… this doesn’t feel real.”

“Because of the restaurant?”

“Because of everything. You. Me. Sitting across from each other like this, like we’re normal.”

“We are normal,” he said, then continued with a half smile, “complicated, but normal.”

I gave him a look. “Most people don’t have to worry about breaking university ethics policies just by making eye contact.”

He winced, then laughed. “Fair.”

We ate in gentle silence for a few moments.

“I meant to ask earlier,” I said, setting my fork down. “How do you know this place? You didn’t Google intimidating romantic restaurants near me, did you?” Suddenly, thoughts of him bringing other women to this place were filling my mind. Was this his go to date spot?

He smiled. “No. My family used to come here when I was younger.”

I tilted my head. “Used to?”

He shifted in his seat a little. “Yeah. It’s been years. Since my grandfather passed, mostly.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, are you about to tell me you come from money?” I teased.

His expression went dry. “You say that like I’m about to admit to a felony.”

“Declan.” I set my fork down.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. Yes. Old money, if you will. Not insane, only comfortable.”

I blinked. “You could’ve fooled me with your broken mug and your nerdy glasses when you read.”

“Disguise,” he said with a smirk. “I’ve been wearing the academic aesthetic to throw you off.”

“Mission accomplished.”

He took another sip of wine, then added, “I never liked it, though. All the money. The power. Or what it turned people into. Everything was conditional. Polished. Quiet. Everyone said the right thing, even when they didn’t mean it. I’m not close with my family.”

“And now you’re dating your student,” I said wryly. “Talk about power.”

“Ironic, huh?”

I poked at my food, then looked back up at him. “You do  seem like someone who grew up in money. I mean, now that you’ve told me, it makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I don’t know. Why would you be in academia when you could just do whatever your family does? And why aren’t you close?” I stilled, “Sorry if that was a lot.”

He continued to answer, ignoring my last sentence. “Because I ran from them. I paid for my own grad school, got my first job without the family name, moved into a shitty apartment with a busted heater just to feel like I earned something.”

I nodded. “Oh.”

He met my eyes. “I’ve spent my whole life avoiding becoming the kind of man my father is. Just someone who takes because he can. I didn’t want to use my position to get something I wanted.”

“But you still wanted it.”

“I still want it,” he said.

My breath caught.

His hand moved across the table again, just barely brushing against mine. This time, I didn’t move away.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

We finished the main course, our conversation hanging somewhere between flirting and quiet friendship. I caught myself studying him; the shape of his mouth when he smiled, the lines around his eyes, the way he listened like he was memorizing things. Memorizing me.

“Dessert?” He asked, when we were done eating.

I shook my head, “I’m so full.”

He grinned. “Good, I’ve got plans for you.”