Soulmates & Twin Flames

21 - Center Of Attention

I follow Nate to my dad's table and take a seat when he pulls out my chair. Dad leans in to speak over the music. "You missed the hors d'oeuvres."

"I bet they were boring," Nate says, standing behind my seat.

We might have missed the appetizers, but the main courses on large silver plates look mouthwatering. I grab my fork and dip it into a flaky fillet of fish smothered in a creamy white sauce, then offer a bite to Nate. He bends over my shoulder to taste it, and lets out a moan.

"Black cod in miso sauce," he announces, squeezing his butt onto my tiny chair.

The lady seated next to us glares at him and turns away. Nate doesn't seem to notice her reaction as I feed him another bite, along with some greens on the side.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" he whispers in my ear, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"Not at all." I don't mind sharing my food with him either.

Nate grins, flags down a waiter, and orders us some wine. Then his attention shifts to Dad's half-eaten bread roll. He reaches over to grab it, but Dad frowns at the intrusion.

Ignoring Dad's glare, Nate snatches the roll. "You've already had your bread, doctor! This one's Abby's."

I can't help but laugh at how shameless he is! It seems Dad can't either. Dad chuckles, giving me a knowing look over his glasses before turning to talk to Dr. Pitri.

Nate tears off a piece of bread, dips it into the sauce and feeds it to me. I struggle to stifle my laughter and chew while he devours my food, finishing half my plate in a heartbeat.

Letting out a satisfied grunt, Nate leans back, causing our chair to squeak in protest. I keep chuckling as I polish off the rest of the food, washing it down with a generous sip of chilled white wine. A waiter approaches to ask if we need an extra chair, but Nate shakes his head.

Meanwhile, two seats away, Dr. Pitri is grilling my dad about giving speeches. Dad's shoulders tense as he grips the butter knife, unable to meet the dean's gaze.

"Just read the last line, Shepherd," Pitri insists. "Offer a few words of encouragement for the patients' families."

"They are not here." Dad's voice tightens with panic. "This crowd would like to raise a fund. My words won't mean anything."

Suddenly, Dean Pitri turns to me. "Convince him, Abby."

Touching Dad's hand, I straighten my posture. "Dr. Shepherd came here as you requested, Doctor Pitri," I say and I'm trying really hard to keep my voice at a respectable level. "You know he doesn't handle pressure well."

"Just a few words! Mention the university. Give some recognition to our faculty. Or fine... Simply say thank you for being here tonight!"

Dad sighs and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Nate leans forward to touch his arm. "You don't have to."

Dad rubs his temples. "I... I can lecture hundreds of students, but I can't give speeches. I didn't even speak at my wife's funeral. Someone else had to read the eulogy. My Nobel acceptance speech was a disaster. The dean knows I'm not cut out for this! I don't see why he's insisting."

Nate sets down his wine glass. "I think what the dean wants is just an acknowledgment, Dr. Shepherd—to show that you're here and proud of your achievements."

"Yes!" Dr. Pitri cries. "Thank you."

"I can't..." Dad whispers.

"You know, acknowledgments come in different forms," Nate says. "After the dean's speech, you can nod, wave, smile, or raise your drink... How does that sound?"