Finding You, Looking for Me: A Henry Cavill FanFic

Part 9: Dinner is Served

We sat across from each other at Gibson's, a staple steakhouse in the Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago. A candle flickered between us on the table. I watched his eyes over the flame, a hint of a smile on his perfect lips.

We had just ordered our dinner. He was wearing a black mock turtleneck atop a pair of dark blue jeans that hugged him in all the ways I wanted to hug him. He had shaved his stubble, allowing the superhero cleft in his chin to take center stage on his face. His hands were folded on the table, his shoulders leaning forward, his blue eyes intent on me.

"Tell me about your children," he said, the flame reflecting in his eyes.

I smiled wider—I had had  a perpetual smile on my face since I laid eyes on this man.

"I have two children—Max and Emily. Max is thirteen–"

"Thirteen?" he interrupted, confused. "And I fit in his clothes?"

"He's a big guy. Six feet tall, wide shoulders, etcetera," I laughed. "Handsome as the devil himself."

I whipped my iPhone out and popped open my Instagram to show Henry a current photo of my son. Max was tall, broad shouldered, with striking blue eyes and longish, curly brown hair. His jaw was strong, but his smile showed his youth.

"Wow," Henry said, sounding surprised.

"Are you shocked that I have a tall child?" I laughed at him.

"Yes, actually. He looks like you, he's striking," he admitted, nodding in approval. My chest filled with warmth.

"He's at an age," I sighed. "In love, obsessed with his computer, being very cool."

"He's a gamer?" Henry asked me, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, very much a gamer," I nodded. "He built his computer all by himself last year." I paused and laughed. "Actually about the same time that you famously built your PC."

"But he was thirteen?" Henry laughed.

"He was actually twelve then," I laughed back.

"And Emily?"

"Emily is 21, she goes to university in Boston."

"You're young to have a 21 year old daughter," he said.

"I am," I agreed. "I had her when I was 19." I held his eye. He had something he wanted to ask me, I could tell.  His lips parted, and then I watched him stop himself. "What were you going to say?" I asked him.

"Your family is almost all grown up," he stated. He averted his eyes.

"It is," I agreed. "I'm almost at the point where I won't know what to do with myself." He caught my eye again. "Is that what you were going to say?" I asked, leaning in.

"Yes," he replied, simply. "What's Emily like?"

"She's beautiful and neurotic," I laughed. "Sometimes we're like sisters. She's very talented—plays the piano and creates music. But self doubt absorbs her...like many girls her age."

"It must be difficult to navigate on your own," he replied. "Is their father involved?"

I nodded. "They have different fathers. I'm twice divorced," I said, flashing him two fingers.

"Oh?"

I laughed. "Yes, I've not only been around the block..." I started, then after leaning forward and looking around to be sure no one could overhear, I declared softly, "I've laid the sidewalks."

We both laughed at my joke.

A server approached our table with two glasses of what looked like scotch, neat.