Chapter 56

CHAPTER 56

MARLOW

I steeled myself as I approached the manager, a middle-aged man with a kind smile but a frazzled expression. He was clearly under a lot of pressure, and I felt a pang of guilt adding to it. I wanted to take the pressure off Spencer. I understood his parents were difficult. If I could head off the tantrum before things got carried away, I could save everyone a lot of trouble.

"Good evening," I began, giving him a polite smile. "I'm Marlow. I'm with that table over there."

"What can I do for you?"

"My boyfriend's parents are seated over there," I said and gestured subtly toward Spencer's parents, who were still nitpicking over their steaks. Saying Spencer was my boyfriend made me feel giddy inside, but I pushed that aside for now.

The manager looked over at them and winced. "Tough crowd?"

I chuckled lightly. "That's one way to put it. They're pretty impossible to please. I was wondering if you could accommodate whatever they ask for tonight. I know it will be a challenge. Here." I handed him five hundred dollars in cash. "This is for you to divide amongst the waitstaff and anyone who has to deal with them for the evening."

He looked at the money, then back at me with a surprised laugh. "This is a first. But I can definitely make it work. Don't worry, we've got this."

"Thank you," I said with genuine relief. "You're saving us tonight. I apologize in advance for what I expect to be a very difficult evening. Please apologize to that young waiter. I'm afraid he'll suffer the brunt of the dissatisfaction."

"Will do. And don't worry, we've handled difficult customers before," he said, giving me a comforting smile. "Good luck for the night."

I headed back to the table and flashed a smile at Spencer and his parents. "Everything has been sorted. I've spoken to the manager, and they will take care of everything."

The waitstaff became exceptionally attentive, whisking away the meals and refilling our wine glasses. While we waited for the meals to be prepared a second time, I made small talk.

"So, how was your trip to the Bahamas?" I asked. "You mentioned it earlier."

I was trying to keep the conversation light and away from their favorite topic—complaining.

"Oh, it was gorgeous," she replied, her face lighting up with excitement. "The beaches were so clean, and the water was crystal clear. It was paradise."

I smiled at her enthusiasm. His father chimed in, adding details about their snorkeling adventures and the amazing seafood they had enjoyed. For all their flaws, they sure knew how to enjoy life and make the most of their luxury vacations. That Spencer paid for.

Finally, the steaks arrived. They looked perfectly done, the meat glistening under the lights. A wave of relief washed over me as his parents cut into their meals without a word of complaint.

"Hmm, this is much better," Mr. Kane grumbled after a few bites. "Still not quite like that steakhouse back home, but acceptable."

Spencer's mother nodded in agreement, a faint smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "I suppose it will do."

Spencer gave me a covert look of gratitude as we continued our meal in relative peace, his parents occasionally breaking the silence with remarks about their travels or the interior decor of their hotel room.

The staff was catering to their every whim. The rest of dinner went more smoothly than I could have hoped for. Things relaxed quite a bit. When the dessert offerings were presented, I wasn't interested. The steak had left me feeling very full, but his mother insisted. I forced a smile and ordered one of the rich desserts. I couldn't even begin to imagine how much this meal cost. There were no prices on the menus.

The dessert menu boasted a variety of indulgent treats, from creamy chocolate cakes drizzled with caramel to colorful fruit tarts. The menu wasn't enough apparently. The waiter rolled out a cart with a variety of desserts for us to choose from. They all looked so good. Each was beautifully presented on pristine white plates. The chocolate lava immediately caught my eye. It oozed with warm, gooey chocolate filling while the crème br?lée was perfectly torched with a crispy, caramelized top.

"I'll have the chocolate lava cake, please," I decided at last.

Spencer's mother gave a huff of approval. "Good choice, that's what I was going to pick."

The waiter made a note of it and then turned to Spencer, who selected the crème br?lée, while his father decided on the fruit tart.

As we waited for dessert, there was an unexpected lull in the conversation. I decided to take that opportunity and broach a subject that had been on my mind for some time.

"So, Spencer tells me you two have been to a lot of places," I began, trying to sound casual. "Is there anywhere you haven't been that you'd really like to visit?"

Mrs. Kane seemed to consider the question. I realized I might have asked the wrong question. She was going to tell me where she wanted to go and somehow Spencer would be the one that was supposed to make it happen. "Well, we've never been to Japan. It has always intrigued us with its rich history and unique culture."

Mr. Kane gave a nod of agreement. "Yes, Japan is definitely on our list. We were supposed to go last year but the plans fell through."

Thankfully, our desserts were delivered, and that conversation was ended. I stared at my lava cake, wanting it but knowing it was going to be very, very rich and decadent. I took the small dessert fork in my hand and cautiously took my first bite. The warm, gooey chocolate melted in my mouth, and it tasted as divine as I had imagined. It was worth every calorie.

Spencer's mother was watching me intently. "How is it?" she asked, her gaze fixed on my dessert.

"It's absolutely delicious, Mrs. Kane," I replied, smiling widely. "How is yours?" I asked Spencer.

He picked up a spoon and tapped it lightly on the top of the crème br?lée. It let out a satisfying crack. "Let's find out," he said, scooping out a spoonful of the custard beneath. He took a bite and then nodded. "Delicious."

His father seemed pleased with his fruit tart. His eyes lit up as he tasted the fresh tangy fruits and crisp pastry. Inside, I breathed a sigh of relief. We made it through. I glanced to the back of the dining room and saw the manager and the waiter watching the table. I gave a slight nod, letting them know the dessert was satisfactory. I saw the relief wash over them. They had worked their asses off trying to keep these people happy. And they succeeded.

The rest of our meal passed in what I could only describe as a harmonious silence punctuated by the occasional murmur of approval regarding the desserts. The bill was presented. Not surprisingly, his parents completely ignored it. Spencer picked it up, slid his card inside, and waited for the server to return.

"I don't know about you guys, but after that meal, I could really use a walk," I suggested.

His parents exchanged glances. "We were thinking it might be fun to find a wine bar and keep the night going," his mother suggested, clearly not ready to end the night.

Spencer looked at me, practically pleading with me to save him from another excruciating experience with his parents. I got the message loud and clear.

I feigned a slightly pained expression, pressing a hand to my stomach. "Actually, I'm not feeling too great. The meal was a bit rich for me. A walk might help settle my stomach. I'm so sorry, but maybe we can do the wine bar another night? Spencer, could you take me home?"

"Yep," Spencer blurted out, eager to get out of there. "Of course, let's get you home."

After goodnights were exchanged, we left the restaurant. Once we were outside, Spencer looked at me with sheer gratitude. "Thank you. You're a goddess. I have no idea how you pulled that off, but it was like magic."

I laughed softly, explaining what I'd done with the manager. "I just made sure the staff got something for their trouble. I figured it was only fair."

Spencer let out a relieved sigh. "That eases my mind. I was worried they were being bullied into it. I'm keeping that strategy in my back pocket for next time. Maybe I'll call the restaurant ahead of our arrival."

"Actually, that might not be a bad idea," I said, gratefully accepting his arm as he offered it to me. We took the scenic route home, meandering along the riverfront. The night was cool and clear. It was just the sort of peaceful ending we needed for our evening.

"Thanks again for tonight," he said.

I grinned. "Your parents aren't as hideous as you described."

He arched an eyebrow. "Don't be nice. They're monsters. And you're their opposite in every way imaginable."

I took that as a compliment. "How long are they staying?"

"A week."

"Yikes."

"You can say that again."

As we walked, I decided to try and get a better understanding of how they ended up in this weird situation. "What was it like growing up with them?"

Spencer sighed, his gaze distant. "It was always about appearances with my mother. She only ever wanted to brag about me to other people, but she never once told me to my face that she was proud of me. My dad was always too busy—watching sports games, drinking beers, or going out with his buddies. We were never close. When I started hitting my rough patch in my late teens, things got worse. He hit me once. It was just one time, but it rattled me, and things were never the same after that. Nobody ever acknowledged it, and I moved out as soon as I could after I turned eighteen."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, absorbing his words. "I kind of wish I hadn't been so nice to them now."

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around me. "You were perfect. You kept me sane. Thank you."

This was the version of Spencer I loved. He was kind, compassionate, and he saw all my efforts. He got me. I realized with a start that the word "love" had just crossed my mind.

Was it possible?

We walked in comfortable silence for a while. "Do you have any good memories with your parents? Anything at all?"

He thought for a moment. "There was one time in high school. It was the most important game of the season, and I was the quarterback. I remember looking up into the stands and seeing my parents there, completely drunk. My mother was loudly cheering in that slurred, embarrassing way, and my father was half-asleep. The other kids noticed, and I was so humiliated. But I played my heart out. We won the game, but it was bittersweet. They didn't even remember it the next day."

I felt a pang of sympathy for him. "That must have been so tough. I'm sorry, Spencer."

He shrugged, trying to play it off. "It's in the past. But it's part of why I am the way I am. I just don't want to end up like them."

"You won't," I said firmly. "You're so much more than that. And you have people who care about you. You're not alone."

He smiled at me, and I could see the gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Marlow. You don't know how much that means to me."

We continued walking, and I asked more questions, wanting to know everything about him. He told me about his childhood, his friends, and his dreams. He was a good man. I wished his parents could see it.