Recipe for Love

Chapter 26

Anna

"Please repeat to me why we're going to Charles's for dinner?" I asked my dad as I tried to style my hair for about the eighth time.
"Because he invited us, and because it was rude to refuse him."
"I don't want to see him."
"For not wanting to see him, you care too much about how you look," he smirked, and I frowned at him.
"I always care about how I look," I grumbled. Dad grunted in agreement, but it was clear to me that he didn't trust me one bit.

I really didn't care what I looked like in front of Charles. He pissed me off. Who does he think he is? He sees Gabriel once and immediately thinks he knows everything about him. He should realize that he doesn't even really know me, let alone my boyfriend. Okay, maybe he has a bit of an anger management problem and fits of jealousy at times. Yeah, maybe sometimes he grabs my forearm a little harder than necessary. But none of it is as bad as what all those guys did to me before. And surely Charles is no saint either, is he?

"Do I really have to go there? Can't you just tell him I wasn't well?" I whimpered as we approached Charles' apartment.
"Anna, it's only one dinner. I'm not going to throw you to the sharks," Dad sneered.
"So why do I feel like you are?"
"You really want me to analyze what's going on between you and Char..."
"There is nothing between us at all. He's just an asshole who messes with other people's lives."
"I think you are doing him a little wrong." Dad shrugged and parked in a familiar parking lot in front of the apartment building.

Charles opened the door, and with that stupid smile of his, he could probably light up the whole town if he was plugged into the grid. He looked handsome, I won't lie. He was wearing a white shirt and light blue jeans, and his cologne smelled just right. "Come in," he smiled, and I quickly walked inside so I wouldn't have to look at him any longer because I was afraid my "I hate Charles and I don't want to see him" mask would soon fall.

I sat down next to my dad at the table on which was laid out a large number of dishes full of still hot food. "Did you two cook that?" I asked, half amazed and half disbelieving. Jo looked at Charles and then said, "I cooked it, Charles... bought the ingredients."
"It looks great, Jo," I smiled at him and peripherally watched Charles, who kept his eyes on me the whole time. And he was looking at me even as we all started eating. He was looking at me even though we had finished eating a long time ago and it would have been much more appropriate if he had joined our conversation.

I helped the boys carry the dishes into the kitchen and grabbed the sponge to start washing up. I rolled up my sleeves and Jo next to me immediately took notice.
"What happened?" he stuttered, pointing to the bruises on my forearms. I quickly looked down at my hands. Although most of the bruises had faded and were now more yellow than blue, they were still quite clearly visible. At some places, you could even still tell where exactly Gabriele's fingers had pressed in. "It's nothing," I answered to Joris, pulled my sleeves back again, threw the sponge into the sink, and started back to the dining room, where I stopped at the door.
"I'd like to go home now, dad," I stated sharply, and two pairs of eyes looked at me in surprise. Before I realized what I had said, Charles was choking on a gulp of water he inhaled in shock, and Dad was hurrying out of his chair so we could disappear immediately.

"Well, it was an interesting evening," Dad muttered on the way home. It was already dark outside, a storm was approaching, and the air was as heavy as my heart. I was sure that Jo would tell Charles what he saw in the kitchen, and I was sure that Charles would quickly put two and two together and I can expect an "I told you so" reaction from him in the near future. At that point, I didn't even mind that I slipped and called Lewis, dad. It bothered me much more that now Charles can give me a load of shit about it.