“You look like you’re trying too hard, Elena,” he said, adjusting his collar. “A woman your age in bright green. People will stare.”
“Let them stare,” I said, though my voice cracked slightly.
“I won’t let such a beautiful evening go to waste,” I added.
Damon let out a short, sharp laugh. “You always get so defensive about everything. I just care about you. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of the kids.”
He turned and went down the stairs without waiting for my answer.
I stood at the top of the stairs, resting my hand on the smooth wooden banister. I could hear him downstairs, rustling his keys. I hadn’t changed. I ran down the stairs, opened the front door, and followed him out onto the driveway.
The air was crisp, and the smell of dry leaves wafted from the sidewalk. We got into the car without a word.
I sat in the passenger seat of the quiet car, smoothing my skirt as we drove toward the restaurant.
Our sedan’s engine stalled, leaving only the hum of the heater and the clatter of cooling metal under the hood. Damon hadn’t unbuckled his seatbelt. He sat with both hands gripping the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position, his eyes glued to the windshield, as if waiting for the light to change in an empty parking lot.
The dashboard cast a pale blue glow on his collar. He adjusted his tie twice, his fingers lingering on the silk knot, before finally turning his head to look at me.
“Will you open the door?” I asked.
He kept his hands on the steering wheel. He tapped his thumb on the leather strap, three slow beats, then glanced at his watch, tapping the dial twice.
“We have exactly three minutes to seven,” I said, looking at the digital clock glowing on the dashboard.
“I can see the time, Elena,” he said, his voice dropping to that quiet, sharp register he used when he wanted to make sure I had my full attention.
He adjusted his collar again, tapping his fingers against his neck. “And I see what you’re wearing. Did you really think I wouldn’t say anything?”
“I was hoping you would say I looked nice,” I said, looking at my hands.
“I’m not going to lie to you just to make you feel better,” he said. “That green is way too bright. It makes your skin look pale, and the cut is too low.”
“The saleswoman said it would fit me,” I muttered, my voice breaking.
“Of course she did,” he snapped. “She wanted your hundred and forty dollars. She doesn’t have to go to a respectable restaurant with you.”
He let go of the steering wheel and let his hands fall to his knees, his knuckles turning white in the dim cabin light. He stared at the green silk that gathered around my waist, his mouth a thin, hard line.
“You really wore that,” he said.
“We talked about this at home, Damon. The kids are waiting inside.”
“They’re waiting for their mother,” he said. “Not for whatever it is.”
I ran my hands over my thighs, trying to straighten the silk. The fabric was cool and thin under my hands, a sharp contrast to the heavy winter coats we usually wore in mid-October.
“It’s just a dress for my birthday,” I said quietly. “I wanted to look nice.”
He reached for the keys in the ignition, his thumb still pressed against the metal casing of the key fob. He didn’t turn them, but the menace in his gesture was clear.
“Love is one thing,” he said, looking straight through the glass doors of The Gilded Lantern. “It cries out for attention.”
“Jake and Lily spent weeks planning this,” I said, resting my hand on the plastic doorknob. “They saved up their own money to pay for this table.”
