Chasing

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KIAN’S POV

I picked Beverley up at the hotel she’s been staying at for the past two months since her return. She seems pleased with me, a development worth mentioning after how she had left my house angrily after I turned down her advances. The date is an opportunity to patch things up and perhaps make her understand that our mistake can’t cost us–me–more than it already has.

I have known Beverly for the most part of my life; her preferences, what makes her tick and the things that excite her. It is why choosing the best place for our date is the easiest.

The restaurant is one of the best in the city, a beehive for the wealthy with expensive taste. The meals here are made by seasoned chefs which is one of the reasons entry into the restaurant is strictly by reservation only. Everyone wants a taste of the mouth watering food served here and sometimes, it takes months to actually get a reservation here.

Not for me though. All it took for me was a call and I had a spot opened for me and Beverly right that instant.

Judging by the way her eyes shine under the beautiful chandeliers as we step into the restaurant, I can tell I was right to bring her here, I lead her to the table reserved for us at a corner that overlooks the beautiful night scenery outside and the other parts of the restaurant as well.

I draw out her seat and she mouths a thank you before settling into it. The restaurant outdid themselves with the romantic setup of our table. I remember how they had asked me what sort of setup I wanted and I just told them anything was fine as long as it was appealing to a woman. I don’t want Beverley to mistake this for a romantic date but it’s a little late to do anything about it now; she won’t stop smiling. Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Beverly grabs the name card on the table and she laughs, showing me what is written on it.

“Mr and Mrs Winston.” She reads and I make a mental reminder to give the person in charge a piece of my mind later for the stupid mistake of assuming I was coming to the restaurant with my wife.

Thankfully, one of the many waitresses comes to our table to take our order and saves me from the awkwardness of the situation. Beverly orders something.

“Would you like a bottle of wine to go with it?” The waitress asks and Beverly just smiles, rubbing her palm over the growing bump of her stomach.

“I would have loved to but as you can see, we have a baby on the way,” she says while looking at me. There is no escaping being mistaken for my wife now, “Water is fine.”

The waitress congratulates us before asking me what I’d like to have too.I take the exact thing she’s having because I can’t bring myself to care about going through the menu but even that unintentional gesture comes off as me being romantic since I want the same thing she’s having.

Before Beverly can start talking about how I am being so romantic, our food is brought in and I dig in first, pretending to be really hungry just so I can avoid a conversation with Beverly even when the whole table setup mocks me for fighting a war I might end up losing.

I zone out after a while, taking tiny bits of the food while Beverly talks about things I can barely hear but

keep nodding my head to.

“Beverly Winston.”

That catches my attention immediately, pulling me out of the vold as my forkful of food hangs mid–air.

“What?” I ask.

“Beverly Winston,” She repeats, twirling her champagne flute that has water instead of wine between her manicured fingers, “How does it sound? It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

I set the fork down and stop eating, losing what is left of my appetite.

“Beverly-” I start to say but she cuts me off, leaning in with a serious look in her eyes.

“Have you never really thought about it, Kian? I know you have.” She reaches for my hand on the table and takes it in hers, caressing it. “It was supposed to be the two of us, remember? I forgive you for the mistake you made in the past but don’t you see that this is the heavens giving us another chance?”

my own glass of w

I recoil, snatching my hand away from her as gently as can before grabbing and taking a sip, hoping Beverly will get the message and stop saying these things.