Till There Was You

Till There Was You [ 2 ]

The guy stills, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes wide.

". . . please?"

He blinks, his senses sharpening once again, his refined demeanor restored. "As you wish."

As he looks through the list again, a key detail crosses my mind.

Shit.

My bad . . .

Earlier today, the manager reminded me that the reservation would be listed under another name: my second name. As a last minute safety precaution (for the one-in-a-million chance that someone I knew would happen to see my name on the list and, God forbid, decide to ruin the surprise without my consent), the manager suggested that I save the reservation under an alias or a name that most people wouldn't associate me with. Luckily for me, that just so happens to be my middle name. "Antonio," I tell the guy.

"Pardon?"

"The reservation," I clarify. "It's listed under my middle name, Antonio."

The dude looks at me and then grumbles something inaudible to my ears. It's clear that his patience is wearing thin, but in all honesty, I couldn't care less. I just disregard his remark and dig into my back pocket for my wallet. Once I fish it out, I pull out my driver's license and show it to him.

He inspects the plastic card for its authenticity. "Alright, it appears to be authentic," he then says, a near-imperceptible smirk tugging at his lips. He's just doing this to get a rise out of me, I swear. "Follow me."

"One moment, please. I just realized I forgot something."

He gives me a look, like, are you for real? but remains silent.

"I'll be right back."

I walk back to where I left Claire and find her in a completely different state. The tears streaming down her cheeks, the sadness filling the air around her . . . they're . . . they're all gone.

"I see that you're feeling better now."

Claire eyes me, her dark coffee-colored irises slowly raking over me. "What are you talking about?"

I know better than to fall for the front she's trying to put up though. Appearances are deceiving after all, and I know very well that beneath it all she's still upset about celebrating Singles Awareness Day. But rather than outright call her out on it, like I would usually do on any other day, I just offer her a sympathetic smile. "Being single on Valentine's Day . . . I know you're still upset about it."

She raises a brow. "Why would think I'd be upset?"

"I saw you earlier. You were crying."

Her lips part, ready to refute, but instead of doing just that, she just pauses and averts her gaze. "Sorry about that," she says, her voice low and faint, practically a whisper. "I didn't mean for anyone to see that. I was just—"

"You're not actually apologizing for it, are you?"

She steals a glance around the place and gulps at the sight. "It's embarrassing. People might think—"

"Who gives a damn about what they think or say?" I point out. "You don't know them and they don't know you."

Her eyes flick up to mine. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Always am," I joke. And then, before Claire is able to say anything else, I grab a hold of her wrist and pull her toward the entrance of the restaurant. She tries to free herself from my grasp, digging her nails into my skin, and yet I still don't budge.