I laughed quietly. “Yeah.
I guess I am.”
He let me out under the soft gold light of Marcello’s awning. Through the window, I could see candles, white linen, and couples leaning toward each other.
I paused at the door, one hand on the brass handle, and took a slow breath.
I had no idea Brooke was already inside.
And I had no idea she was not alone.
I stepped inside Marcello’s expecting one woman.
I found four.
Brooke sat in the middle of the booth, glowing under the warm light, three other women lined up beside her like she’d been holding court for an hour.
“Daniel!” she called out, waving me over. “There you are.”
I slowed at the edge of the table, my jacket suddenly too warm.
“I didn’t realize it was a group thing,” I said.
“Oh!” Brooke laughed, brushing her hair back.
“I hope you don’t mind. The girls really wanted to meet you. I talk about you all the time.”
For a moment, I felt flattered.
Still a little disgruntled by the additional guests, but I figured it might not be too bad.
Then the blonde on her left smiled without warmth. “Hey, Daniel? Could you sit down, you’re blocking the waiter.”
I sat.
The menus were already open.
“We were thinking the Barolo for wine,” Brooke said sweetly. “You’re okay with red, right?”
“Perfect.”
She flagged the waiter before I finished the sentence.
He stepped up to the table, calm and neat, a small pin on his vest that read MARCO. His eyes flicked over the group, paused half a second on Brooke, then settled on me with a politeness that felt almost careful.
I wish I’d paid closer attention to that look.
“Are we ready to order?” he asked.
“We’re starving,” the brunette said.
“Calamari, the burrata, the truffle arancini, and the bruschetta board.”
“All four appetizers?” Marco asked gently.
“He’s got it,” Brooke said, smiling at me.
My jaw locked.
I tried to steer the situation back to something more like the date I’d pictured.
I leaned toward Brooke and asked about her work.
“Oh, you know. Same old,” she said, then turned to her friends.
“Jules, tell him about Cabo.”
Jules, the brunette, launched into a story. They laughed together at inside jokes I wasn’t a part of, and discussed people I had no way of knowing.
Brooke was the same warm person I’d gotten to know, but only toward her friends.
I sipped my water.
The food came. Marco refilled my water without being asked.
“Is everything alright, sir?” he said quietly.
“Fine,” I said.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, but his eyes drifted again toward Brooke. Just for a second, I saw something in his face I didn’t understand.
Then he stepped away.
I told myself I was imagining things.
Brooke leaned across the table, smiling like we shared a secret.
“You’re so quiet tonight, Daniel. Are you having fun?”
“I thought it was going to be just us,” I said.
Her smile didn’t move. “Don’t be like that.
It’s more fun this way.”
Tasha, the blonde, snorted. “I don’t know Brooke. He looks like he’s calculating something.”
I was.
I was calculating the cost of all the food on the table, the bottle of wine and additional drinks the four of them had ordered.
Brooke reached over and patted my hand. “Relax. You said you wanted to impress me.”
I never said that.
Dessert came next.
Tiramisu. Cannoli. Two espressos.
Brooke ordered a limoncello and clinked it with her friends like they were celebrating something I hadn’t been told about.
Then Marco returned with the bill.
He set it down, gently, in the center of the table.
Brooke smiled, slid the folder toward me with two manicured fingers, and tilted her head.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly.
I opened it.
$483.
The number sat there like a punchline I was supposed to laugh at.
I set it down slowly. “I think we should split this.”
That was when everything exploded.
Brooke’s smile vanished like someone had flipped a switch. “Excuse me?”
Her friend on the left, the one in the gold hoops, crossed her arms.
“Wow. Just wow.”
“Men really aren’t men anymore,” Jules said, loud enough to carry.
Brooke leaned in, her voice dropping into something cold and tight. “Daniel.
You asked me to dinner. Don’t embarrass yourself now.”
I glanced at the folder again.
For a single weak second, my hand drifted toward my back pocket.
Then I thought of my ex-wife. I remembered every quiet dinner where I’d paid the emotional bill just to keep her from raising her voice.
Every time, I’d swallowed something true to keep something fake.
My fingers stopped halfway to my wallet. “I invited one person to dinner. Not four.
I’d be willing to pay your share, Brooke, but that—”
“Are you kidding me?” Brooke’s jaw dropped. “You’re really going to do that to my friends?”
“I was trying to say that wouldn’t be fair—” I continued.
“I thought you said he was a good guy,” Tasha spoke over me, turning to Brooke.
“He seemed nice,” Brooke replied.
Jules pulled out her phone and started filming. “This is going straight to the gram.
I can’t believe you’re doing this to us, Daniel.”
I felt the heat climb up my neck.
Then I noticed Marco, the waiter, standing a few feet back, and he wasn’t alone.
Behind him stood an older woman in a soft black blazer, her silver hair pulled back, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
Brooke saw her a half second after I did.
The color drained from Brooke’s face so fast I almost forgot about the bill.
“Aunt Eleanor,” she breathed.
The woman stepped forward, calm as still water. “Brooke. I hear you’ve become quite a grifter.
Care to explain yourself?”
Jules lowered her phone. “What?”
“Marcello’s has been in my family for years.” Eleanor turned her eyes on her niece. “And you, sweetheart, have been bringing men here for months.
Different one every time. Same little performance.”
Brooke’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.
I sat back in my chair, the room tilting slightly.
Brooke’s texts about how much she liked this place, the way she’d ordered without looking at the menu, Marco’s lingering glances, and even that little line, “You said you wanted to impress me.”
It all clicked into place at once.
“It’s not me you wanted to go on a date with, it’s my wallet.
You just wanted me to pay the bill for entertaining your friends.”
Brooke turned bright red, and that was all the confirmation I needed.
Brooke’s friend with the gold hoops grabbed her purse. “Brooke, what the heck?”
Brooke shot her a warning look. “Don’t start.”
“No, you don’t get to do that,” the woman snapped.
“You told us this was your thing. You said these guys always paid.”
Brooke folded her arms. “They usually do.”
The table went silent.
Even her friends looked stunned that she’d said it out loud.
Eleanor gave a slow, disappointed nod. “Thank you for finally being honest.”
Jules put her head in her hands. “You did not just say that, Brooke.”
“What?” Brooke snapped.
“They invite me out. They want to impress me. What’s the difference?”
