Intricacies of the heart

A new client had reached out through a referral, asking for a private dinner for four. No names just an address in the west loop and a generous deposit. I didn't think twice, most private clients preferred discretion. The apartment was sleek, all marble glass. A woman who appeared to be in fifties let me in, she introduced herself as Lisa and informed me she was the house keeper. She led me to the pristine kitchen, fully equipped and furnished. It was spotless in a way that made me sad to mess it up by cooking in it. Lisa informed me my client was in a meeting and would arrive before I was finished.

Halfway through prepping, I heard the door open behind me, I turned to give Lisa a smile that froze on face when I beheld the person who walked in. His dark hair ruffled like he had ran his hands through it sevrally. His face set in an apprehensive smile. He took two steps forward and leaned against the kitchen highland. Wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his toned and muscled body, a baggy jean that made him appear different yet the same.

"Hey Sasha." He said, still wearing that stupid smile.

I dropped the knife and sneered at him,

"You booked me? How did you find me? I never told you I was a chef."

I was simmering with anger and  confused at the same time. I needed  to keep it together.

He tilted his head observing me. "I needed to see you, you blocked me. I had to do some research. I'm sorry but it was the only way I thought I could see you."

I was dumbfounded. " I blocked you cause I didn't want to speak to you or see you, wasn't that clear enough?"

He recoiled and turned briefly. When he faced me again he just said.  

"Fine, then it's just work, go ahead and finish up, I'll pay for your time." 

The words "pay for your time" stung and it hurt like hell. Something inside me tightened. Anger, hurt, something harder to name. I just turned away and placed a pan on the stove, oil hissing as it met the pan. I was going to finish preparing the meal and get the hell out. He can go screw himself. "Dinner will be ready in forty minutes." I said, with a controlled and calm tone. He watched me a moment longer and quietly walked out the kitchen.

After cooking, I plated  the the food with expertise and set it on the dining, where he was already seated. There was grilled salmon, charred lemon, roasted vegetable, steak and mashed potato. I was about to go clean up, so I could leave when he held my wrist and said without looking at me.

"Please sit Sasha."

 I looked around. "The booking specified four guests, where are your guests?" I  removed my wrist from his grasp and folded my hands behind me.

"There's no one else joining, please seat and have dinner with me." 

The dejected tone of his voice had me obliging. I quietly sat down on the chair farthest from him and served myself.

For a long time he didn't speak. He just ate slowly, like he was savoring the food. The click of cutlery against porcelain filling the silence. Then without looking at me he said.

"It was supposed to be casual, but forgetting you, has proven quite difficult, I can't seem to do casual with you. It's been impossible to shake you off."

I looked at the meal on my  plate, tossing it around.  "I don't date men who treat me like entertainment, I especially do not date married men."

He finally looked up from his plate. "I'm divorced, three years. I have two kids, they live with their mother most of the time, but we share custody."

 I felt my  throat tighten. "You didn't mention that."

He sighed. "That morning...I didn't mean to leave the way I did, I just-"  He hesitated, eyes lifting to meet mine.

 "I didn't know what to do with how real it felt. I've gone a while  just keeping it simple, but there was nothing simple about that night."  

I  crossed my arms on the table, not knowing what to do with this new information.

 "That's not justification for making me feel like cheap trash before you left that morning."

He sighed and and ran his hands across his face. "I really am sorry, please let me make it up to you, let me get to know you."

 This time, when he reach for me, I didn't withdraw my hands. We talked a lot over dinner, I got to know he works as an architect, own a firm actually. I asked if this was his house.

 "It is but I don't live here, I host guests here for private gatherings."

 I slowly nodded.

 He asked about my family, I told him my dad passed five years ago, just when I turned twenty. My mother bailed on Monica and I, my baby sister. I didn't mention that Monica was an addict and currently in rehab. That was too much personal information. At 11pm, I was ready to leave. He offered to drop me off, I told him I drove. He hugged me, we said goodnight and I left.