DINNER WITH OCEAN
1543 Words
CHAPTER TWENTY
I catch myself checking my watch at four PM.
Three hours until dinner.
"Boss?" Michael's voice cuts through. "You with me?"
"What? Yes. Sorry. Continue."
We're reviewing quarterly reports in my office. Numbers I should be focused on. Numbers that affect millions in revenue.
But I'm thinking about dinner. About whether Lola will join me again tonight. About what we'll talk about.
It's been a week since that first dinner. Since she cried and told me about being an orphan. About feeling unwanted her whole life.
We've had dinner together every night since.
Not planned. Not formal. Just... happening.
She shows up. I show up. We eat. We talk.
And I f*****g look forward to it like a teenager with a crush.
Which is pathetic.
"The Rotterdam shipment," Michael is saying. "Do you want to oversee it personally or should I handle it?"
"You handle it." I force myself to focus. "But Daniel goes with you. I want eyes on everything."
"Understood."
The meeting drags on. Financial reports. Territory updates. Problem solving. All things I'm usually good at.
But today my mind keeps wandering.
She laughed last night. At something I said about one of my captains. A real laugh. Not the polite kind. The kind that crinkles her eyes and makes her whole face light up.
I made her laugh.
And I wanted to do it again. Wanted to keep talking just to see that smile.
Dangerous. This is dangerous.
"That's everything," Michael finally says. "Unless you need something else?"
"No. We're done."
He leaves. I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
What am I doing?
Lola is twenty-three. Half my age. My son's ex-wife. A woman healing from four years of brutal abuse.
Getting attached to her is wrong on every possible level.
But I am getting attached. Can't seem to help it.
She's in my house. At my dinner table. In my thoughts constantly.
Last night she told me about a book she's reading. Some fantasy novel with dragons and magic. Her eyes lit up as she described the plot. Used her hands to gesture when she got excited about a particular scene.
I don't give a f**k about dragons. But I could have listened to her talk about them for hours.
"You're doing it again," Daniel says from the doorway.
I didn't hear him come in. That's concerning.
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you stare into space and think about Lola."
"I'm not..."
"Boss. Please. You've been doing it for a week." He sits down uninvited. "You need to be careful."
"I am being careful."
"Are you? Because from where I'm sitting, you're getting emotionally involved with a traumatized woman half your age who you married out of necessity."
The words hit harder than they should. Because he's right.
"I'm aware of the situation," I say stiffly.
"Are you aware that she might be confusing gratitude with attraction? That she's vulnerable right now? That getting involved with you could seriously f**k up her healing?"
"Nothing is happening between us. We have dinner. We talk. That's it."
"For now. But you're looking at her differently. Everyone's noticed."
"Everyone?"
"Hannah mentioned it. Said Lola talks about you a lot. About how kind you are. How safe you make her feel." Daniel's voice is careful. "Boss, I'm not saying you're doing anything wrong. But you need to think about what happens if this goes further."
"It's not going further."
"You sure about that? Because the way you've been checking your watch for the last hour suggests otherwise."
I was that obvious?
Fuck.
"She deserves better than me," I say quietly. "She deserves someone her own age. Someone who isn't a criminal. Someone who hasn't killed people and ruined lives. I know that."
"Then why do you keep having dinner with her?"
"Because..." I stop. Why do I? "Because she's interesting. Intelligent. She's been through hell and she's still kind. Still dreams about being a teacher. Still laughs at stupid jokes. She's... remarkable."
"You like her."
"I admire her resilience."
"You like her," Daniel repeats. "As more than just someone under your protection."
I don't answer. Can't answer. Because saying it out loud makes it real.
"Just be careful," Daniel says again. "For both your sakes. She's not ready for complicated feelings. And you..." He pauses. "You haven't let anyone close in fifteen years. Not since Willow. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"No. I have no f*****g clue what I'm doing."
The admission feels like defeat.
Daniel stands. "Then maybe slow down. Put some distance between you two. Before someone gets hurt."
He leaves me alone with my thoughts.
Distance. Right. That's the smart play.
Except I don't want distance.
I want to hear about her book. Want to see her smile. Want to make her laugh again.
Want things I shouldn't want.
I check my watch again.
Two hours until dinner.
At seven, I'm in the dining room. Tell myself I'm here because I'm hungry. Not because I'm hoping she'll show up.
She does. Wearing a simple dress. Hair down. A small smile when she sees me.
"Hi."
"Hi." I pull out her chair. We've done this every night now. It's become routine. "How was your day?"
"Good. I finished that book. Started a new one. Hannah and I watched a movie this afternoon." She settles into her seat. "You?"
"Boring meetings. Financial reports. The usual."
Hannah brings food. Leaves with that knowing smirk.
We eat. Talk about nothing important. The weather. The garden. A documentary she watched.
Normal things.
Domestic things.
And I realize this is what I look forward to. Not the business. Not the power. Not the empire I've built.
This. Sitting across from Lola. Listening to her talk. Making her smile.
"What?" she asks, catching me staring.
"Nothing. You just... you look happy."
"I am happy. Is that weird?"
"No. It's perfect."
The word hangs between us. Perfect. Too much weight in it.
"I mean, it's good. That you're happy. That's good." I'm fumbling. Rambling. "You deserve to be happy."
"So do you."
"I'm fine."
"Are you? You always look so serious. Even when you're smiling, there's this..." She gestures vaguely. "This weight. Like you're carrying something heavy all the time."
No one's ever said that to me before. No one's looked close enough to notice.
"Comes with the job," I say lightly.
"Maybe. Or maybe you need to let yourself relax more."
"I relax."
"When?"
"Right now. Having dinner with you."
The words come out before I can stop them. Too honest. Too revealing.
Lola's cheeks flush slightly. "Really?"
"Really. This is the best part of my day."
We stare at each other. Something electric in the air between us.
I should backtrack. Should make it less personal. Should remember all the reasons this is a bad idea.
But I can't seem to make myself care about any of that right now.
"Mine too," she says softly. "These dinners. Talking to you. It's the first time in years I've felt like a person instead of... instead of what Ethan made me."
"You were always a person. He just tried to make you forget."
"You remind me. Every time we talk. You see me. Not the broken thing. Just... me."
This is dangerous territory. Getting too close. Too emotional.
"Lola..."
"I know," she interrupts. "I know this is complicated. I know I'm probably confusing things because you saved me and you're kind and I'm grateful. I know all of that. But I just wanted you to know that these dinners mean something to me. More than I can explain."
My chest feels tight. "They mean something to me too."
"Good." She smiles. "Then let's keep doing them."
"We should probably..."
"Keep doing them," she says firmly. "Unless you don't want to?"
Want to? I want nothing more. That's the problem.
"I want to," I admit.
"Then it's settled."
We finish dinner. Talk about safer things. Books. Movies. Plans for the garden.
But the earlier conversation hangs between us. Unresolved. Loaded with possibility.
When she says goodnight, when she touches my arm briefly in passing, I feel it everywhere.
And I know Daniel is right.
I'm getting in too deep. Feeling too much. Wanting things I shouldn't want.
But I can't seem to stop myself.
Later that night, I'm in my study, trying to work. Failing miserably.
All I can think about is the way Lola smiled at me. The way she said these dinners mean something to her.
The way I want so much more than just dinner.
I want to know everything about her. Want to hear all her thoughts. Want to be the reason she smiles every day.
Want to touch her. Hold her. Kiss her.
Want things that are completely inappropriate given our situation.
She's healing. Vulnerable. Confusing gratitude with attraction.
And I'm old enough to know better. Experienced enough to recognize this for what it is.
A mistake waiting to happen.
But when I close my eyes, all I see is her face. Her smile. Her laugh.
And I know with absolute certainty that I'm already too far gone to turn back.
I'm falling for Lola.
Maybe already have fallen.
And that's going to complicate everything.
- Writer
