Brief Encounters

Part 14

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I grabbed my phone. William's message lit up the screen: How about dinner?

I hesitated for a moment before typing back, Let me guess-you're cooking?

His reply came quickly: You'll see.

An hour later, a sleek black car pulled up outside my apartment. Patrick, as efficient as always, stood by the passenger door, ready to take me wherever William had planned. The air felt heavy with anticipation, and I didn't even need to peek through the blinds to know the press was still lingering out there. The flashes of their cameras cut through the evening gloom, relentless, constant. But William had sent the car for one reason: to shield me from it.

Sliding into the backseat, I tried to relax, but I couldn't ignore the way Patrick kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. His gaze wasn't just his usual professional detachment; there was something softer, more contemplative in his expression.

"Must be tough," he said, breaking the silence with his voice low and thoughtful. "Having everyone watch your every move."

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Comes with the territory, doesn't it?"

Patrick pressed his lips into a thin line, like he was thinking carefully about something. "Maybe. But not everyone signs up for it willingly."

Before I could respond, the driver chimed in with a lighter tone, trying to break the tension. "People in love find a way to make it work, though. Don't they?" He winked at me through the mirror, the corners of his mouth curling up in a knowing smile.

Patrick chuckled, but there was still a quiet heaviness in the car, a tension that wouldn't dissipate. His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, his mind clearly elsewhere. The conversation drifted off as we turned onto a quiet road, the hedges towering around us, hiding us from prying eyes.

Then, suddenly, the estate appeared before me, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. The sprawling gardens stretched out in every direction, fountains twinkling in the distance, their sound a peaceful melody. The car rolled to a stop, and Patrick stepped out to open my door with his usual professionalism.

"Enjoy your evening," he said, but there was a quiet edge to his voice that I couldn't quite place.

I stepped out into the cool night air, and there he was-William. Standing in the entryway, that disarming grin already lighting up his face.

"Glad you made it," he teased, his voice light and playful. "For a moment, I thought you might bail."

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms as I walked toward him. "Oh, I thought about it."

He laughed, offering me his arm with a mock bow. "Come on. I promise, no weird waiters this time."

I couldn't help but smile at that, the familiar warmth between us spreading in an instant. The path to the dinner was lined with blooming flowers, their fragrance sweet and intoxicating. The soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze was the only sound we heard as we walked, the lanterns casting a golden glow on everything in their path.

When we reached the table-set beneath the open sky, the stars shining above us like diamonds-I stopped short. It was stunning. The crisp white linens on the table, the candles flickering gently in the breeze, the soft music playing in the background-it was like something out of a dream.

William gestured grandly. "Prepared all this myself. Well... supervised, anyway."

I smirked, teasing him. "Full marks to your staff."

The meal was a masterpiece-filet mignon, truffle risotto, and a wine pairing that was as perfect as everything else. But as perfect as the setting was, there was something else in the air. A subtle undercurrent of tension that I couldn't shake. It lingered in the way William's hand rested on his wine glass, the way his gaze occasionally drifted toward me, almost like he was trying to figure something out.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he set his fork down and leaned forward. His voice was steady, but I could hear the hesitation beneath it.

"I wanted to talk about us," he said quietly. "I know what the press is like. What they've been saying... and I hate that you have to deal with it because of me."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept going, his voice growing more earnest. "If we keep seeing each other, the attention won't stop. There's only so much I can do to protect you from it. And I need you to understand what that really means."

His gaze held mine, and in that moment, I saw the weight of his position, the burden of the life he had been born into. But there was something more there, something deeper that tugged at me in ways I couldn't explain.

"I've thought about that," I said quietly, my fingers tracing the edge of my wineglass. "And I won't lie, it's... overwhelming. But I also know it's not your fault. You didn't ask for this any more than I did."

A flicker of relief passed across his face, but the worry still lingered in his eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you," I added, shifting slightly in my seat. "I'm leaving for a tour with Roe. After that, it's off to New York for a while. I just... thought you should know."

His expression faltered, and I caught the flash of disappointment in his eyes before he nodded. "I see."

I smiled softly, hoping to ease the moment. "But for tonight, can we just enjoy dinner? No heavy conversations?"

His lips curved into a faint smile, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "You're right. Let's just enjoy tonight."

After dinner, we wandered through the gardens, our laughter mingling with the cool night air. We found ourselves by a quiet gazebo overlooking a small lagoon, the water shimmering softly under the starlight. I perched on the railing, my heart racing as he stepped closer to me.

"Jeanna..." His voice was barely above a whisper, his hand brushing against my waist as he drew me in. His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had fallen away.

And then, he kissed me. Slow, tender, deliberate. The kiss was everything-soft and perfect, like we were the only two people in the world. The stars above us seemed to dim in comparison, and for a brief moment, I thought maybe this-us-could be enough.