“You look like you are trying too hard, Elena,” he said, adjusting his collar. “A woman your age in bright green. People are going to stare.”
“Let them stare,” I said, though my voice caught slightly.
“I am not going to let a beautiful evening go to waste,” I added.
Damon laughed, a short, sharp sound. “You always take things so defensively. I am just looking out for you. You do not want to make a fool of yourself in front of the kids.”
He turned around and walked down the stairs without waiting for me to answer.
I stood at the top of the stairs, my hand resting on the smooth wood of the railing. I could hear him downstairs, rustling his keys. I did not change my clothes. I walked down the stairs, opened the front door, and followed him out to the driveway.
The air was crisp, the smell of dry leaves rising from the pavement. We got into the car without speaking.
I sat in the passenger seat of the quiet car, smoothing my skirt as we drove toward the restaurant.
The engine of our sedan died, leaving only the hum of the heater and the click of cooling metal beneath the hood. Damon did not unbuckle his seatbelt. He sat with both hands gripped at twelve o’clock on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the windshield as if waiting for a light to change in the empty parking lot.
The dashboard cast a pale blue glow across his collar. He adjusted his tie twice, his fingers lingering on the silk knot, before he finally turned his head to look at me.
“Are you going to open your door?” I asked.
He did not move his hands from the wheel. He tapped his thumb against the leather wrap, three slow beats, then checked his watch, tapping the face twice.
“We have exactly three minutes before seven,” I said, looking at the digital clock glowing on the dashboard.
“I can see the time, Elena,” he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, sharp register he used when he wanted to ensure he had my full attention.
He adjusted his collar again, his fingers tapping against his neck. “And I can see what you are wearing. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t say anything?”
“I hoped you would say I look nice,” I said, looking down at my hands.
“I am not going to lie to you just to make you feel better,” he said. “That green is far too loud. It makes your skin look pale, and the cut is too low.”
“The saleswoman said it suited me,” I muttered, my voice trailing off.
“Of course she did,” he snapped. “She wanted your one hundred and forty dollars. She doesn’t have to walk into a respectable restaurant with you.”
He released his grip on the wheel and let his hands fall to his lap, his knuckles white in the dim cabin light. He stared at the way the green silk gathered at my waist, his mouth twisting into a slight, hard line.
“You actually wore it,” he said.
“We talked about this at home, Damon. The kids are waiting inside.”
“They are waiting for their mother,” he said. “Not whatever this is.”
I smoothed my hands down my thighs, trying to flatten the silk. The fabric felt cool and thin under my palms, a sharp contrast to the heavy winter coats we usually wore by mid-October.
“It is just a dress for my birthday,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “I wanted to look nice.”
He reached for the keys in the ignition, his thumb remaining pressed against the metal casing of the keyring. He did not turn them, but the threat remained clear in the gesture.
“Nice is one thing,” he said, looking straight through the glass doors of The Gilded Lantern. “This is screaming for attention.”
“Jake and Lily spent weeks planning this,” I said, my hand resting on the plastic door latch. “They saved their own money to pay for this table.”
