6. Robert

Chapter six

Robert

I don't know how to break the ice with Sara.

Usually, it's easy. Figuring out the right things to say, telling them what they want to hear? All that jazz is quite easy. But when it comes to Sara, it feels like the greatest challenge.

The server comes over with the bottle of wine.

When he fills up the glasses. I clutch mine, taking a sip. At least it tastes how it should.

I put the glass down, debating on where to begin. I have to treat this like a date, especially if I want to get over her. Sara blinks, looking at me with wide eyes.

She's just as nervous as I am.

"So, do you always work at the café?"

She shrugs and looks off. "Yeah, it pays the bills."

"I see."

"And even though you think that I'm settling for that, I'm not," she explains.

"What do you mean?"

She takes a deep breath, and then a smile sits on her face. "I guess it's just a step in the direction I want to go in life. The job is okay. I get my good and bad customers, but I try not to let it bother me."

"The best way of doing things," I reason.

"For real, though. I swear, if I even gave half a darn about the people who came in and got offended by what they do or say, I'd be a crying mess almost every other day."

I chuckle, understanding that. "You conceal it for your own good."

"Yeah, and well, I don't worry about that job. I focus on the bigger goals. It's really just a temporary thing."

"I see. Well, I hope you hit your future goals." I don't ask anything further at this point. She will open up about those goals in time if things work out.

She nods, and her eyes look down. "I sure hope so."

It's for a brief second, but I see the frown. I want to ask her what‘s the matter, and what she's frowning about. However, I stop myself. The last thing I need is to get too attached to her or something.

"Anyway, this is quite the place."

"Sure is."

"Do you come here often?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Oh good! I thought this was like a regular for you! Then I'd have to ask how you can afford this place."

I pause, wondering if she has figured it out yet.

"You don't know then, do you?"

She blinks and slowly shakes her head. I'm surprised she didn't put it together when she heard my name.

"No, I don't and I don't even know what you're talking about, Robert. "

I ponder on telling her. Maybe she'll be less weird about it than others I have told. And hopefully, she doesn't ask me for handouts. OK, here goes: "I'm a billionaire."

Sara's jaw drops, and her eyes widen. She doesn't say a word.

"Oh. That kind of makes sense why we're here now. And why you drive the newest Tesla model."

"I have a few cars that do the job."

"I see. Well, this is certainly a development. Then again, I should've figured it out when I saw the Armani on you as well."

My hand reaches for my tie that's slightly askew. Sara's eyes look at it as I turn it around.

"Yes, I suppose that gives it away."

"And the, like, four platinum credit cards."

"Five, actually."

"Geez," she exclaims.

"It's not a big deal. It's just a part of me and—"

The server stops in front of us, bringing out the lobsters. He hands them to us, along with the tools to open them and the dressings.

"There you are. If you need anything, feel free to reach out."

He disappears into the crowd, and I sit there, looking at the lobster. Sara does the same, and then we look at each other.

"How do I eat this?"

I chuckle, grabbing the tools.

"Let me show you."

I explain how to crack it open, starting with the head and then to the base. Unlike the lobsters sold in regular restaurants, these are giant and also are a rarity. We eat, not saying much to one another. After we finish our food, the server takes it.

"And one crème brulee to share," I whisper. He nods, scurrying off. As he runs away, I look over at Sara.

"You stuck around," I say.

"Yeah, well, where else could I go?"

"I don't know. It's just a little different. Not used to that."

"You're not used to people sticking around during dates."

"It's different," I explain. "Most of the time, when they find out that I'm wealthy, they either want to distance themselves or ask me for money."

Sara wipes her hands and puts the toilette down. "Why would I run away?"

"You're not . . . mad I didn't say anything?"

"No way!" she replies. "In fact, I figure you must have worked very hard for it. So that's cool!"

It's . . . cool? This is an interesting development.

"You'd be surprised at how many women get upset when they learn that I have wealth."

"Why would I be upset, though?"

I explain that some women might feel intimidated or that they would not feel like an equal partner with a wealthy man. And some feel that they would be bound into social responsibilities that they are not ready for.

"Robert, you obviously made your lot. You're successful, and I can't fault you for doing what you do. In fact, who wouldn't want to be where you are at such a young age," she says. I stifle a laugh, realizing she may think that it's pure luck. In reality, it's the fruits of labor, and betrayal, that drove me to business above all else.

"I'm glad you think so."

The crème brulee arrives with quite a flourish. The server hands me the spoons, and I give one to Sara, who gazes at the dish and then back at me.

"Wait, are we—"

"Yes. Sharing."

"Oh. Okay."

We each dig in, taking a bite of the dish. Our spoons clang together, and I try not to pull away on instinct, but this is a little bit different from what I even thought would happen. As we eat, I look at Sara, who savors the taste.

Her eyes light up, and she slowly chews it, moaning in approval at the taste.

"Gosh, this is good!"

"Isn't it? They make it with a special recipe here. I don't know what it is, obviously, but I adore it," I say.

"I agree. This may be the best dish I've ever had."

We finish, and I fold the napkin and place it to the side. The server heads over and hands me the check, and I give him my card. He walks off, and Sara watches with wide eyes. "You just give it to him like that."

"Yeah. Money isn't an issue here, Sara. I wanted to take you out."

"Why? I mean, I know that we had our differences, but—"

"I can't explain it," I say. "I really just wanted to treat you to something nice tonight."

She nods, smiling.

"Well, I like that. Thank you again, Robert."

We don't say much. The server gives me the check and I fill it out, slipping my card back into my wallet.

"Anyway, ready to go?"

"Sure."

We walk out, not saying much until we're outside. We head to the fountain, and Sara gazes up. Her green eyes sparkle as the reflections from the lights dance against her pupils.

"Say Sara?"

She turns, looking at me.

"Yes?"

I pause, wondering if I should do this. I don't know what the future will hold. In a sense, I don't want to pull away. Sara's managed to sneak into my heart and push through barriers I thought were impregnable.

"I wanted to ask you if . . . "

"If what?"

I purse my lips, trying to find the correct words.

"If me being wealthy is a bad thing? If you look at me any differently because of it."

I'm used to the looks and the regards, but I want to know the truth right now before I get in too deep. She shakes her head and smiles.

"Of course not. In fact, I think it makes you more interesting."

Sara's words throw me for a loop. I've gotten lots of comments before, but interesting is definitely not the word I expected.

"I see. Interesting. I like that." I can't help but smile a little.

"Anyway, I told Katie that I'd be back soon."

"Oh, right. Do you want me to drive you back to your place?"

"No, it's fine. Besides, you told me that you don't go to people's houses on first dates, right?"

"True."

We get in the car, and I drive back to the café parking lot. A few moments later, that silver Jetta sputters down the road. Sara looks at me, grinning. "Well, I had a good time."

"I did, too."

"And you have more than apologized. So, thank you."

She opens the door and heads to the other car. They drive off immediately, but I sit there in the parking lot, taking in what transpired. I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to get hung up on someone, and then get disappointed. After Maria, I pushed away any aspects of dating. However, for the first time in who knows how long, I feel something. A long-forgotten feeling that I can't help but enjoy.

The spark of desire.