"You're slouching. You're putting the guests on edge." I pulled my shoulders back. I'm just sitting here, Declan. I'm waiting for the cake.
A slow sigh rolled out of him, exaggerated, calibrated for the surrounding tables to catch. This is a business dinner. The seats here belong to family and partners who actually matter. An old man in a threadbare suit who looks like he drifted in from the sidewalk. That's not the image I need right now.
We have a deal to close. Heat climbed my throat and spread across my face. My eyes moved past him to Ingrid. She was turning a spoon over and studying her reflection in the bowl of it utterly undisturbed. So, what exactly would you have me do, Declan?
I kept my voice level. "Head to the bar," he said, gesturing toward the front of the restaurant. "Find a stool and sit tight until we're finished. I'll have someone bring you something to drink. Just please don't make this harder than it needs to be."
At the nearest table, talk stopped completely. A young couple had abandoned their own conversation to watch. The woman covered her mouth with her fingers. To them, I was a senile old man being steered aside by his capable, patient son, a nuisance, excess baggage. What they had no way of knowing was that this man had funded Declan's entire education, had sold the home he cherished to keep Declan's company from going under.
I looked directly at my son. What I had once recognized in his eyes wasn't there anymore. What remained was something cold and chosen. "Very well, Declan," I said.
"Getting to my feet costs something my knees registered every decade." I straightened, brushed the crumbs from my lap. "I hope your evening goes the way you want it to."
"Good," he said, already swinging away before I'd finished the sentence. "Keep yourself out of sight." I crossed the dining room toward the bar. Every step felt like moving through a spotlight. Eyes tracking me.
Low voices breaking off into commentary that reached me in pieces. Poor old man. Doesn't look like he knows where he is. I held my back straight and kept my gaze ahead. The bar was tucked behind a glass partition separated from the main floor.
The young bartender had a candid, readable face. He assessed the situation without requiring an explanation. "Something I can bring you, sir? I can get you a menu if you'd like. "No, just water with ice.
Skip the lemon. I settled onto one of the tall leather stools. From that elevation, I had a full unbroken sightline across the entire room. Not a guest anymore, a witness now.