Chapter 1: The Man in My Booth
“Excuse me, this table is reserved.””
I said it with a smile, but I already knew there was irritation hiding underneath.
For twenty minutes, I had been sitting alone in the most expensive restaurant in Dallas, staring at the empty chair across from me and watching the candles burn lower.
Wesley was late.
Not five minutes late.
Not the kind of late where you send a quick apology text.
Twenty minutes late on the night he had spent months preparing me for.
The night I was finally meeting his father.
I had heard the name Sterling Hayes more times than I could count.
Wesley talked about his father like he was a legend.
A successful businessman. A disciplined man. A person who believed actions mattered more than words.
“He’s intimidating,” Wesley had admitted once while we were lying on my apartment couch.
I laughed.
“Your own father intimidates you?””
“He doesn’t mean to. He just notices everything.””
I remembered smiling at the time.
Now, standing beside a stranger sitting in our reserved booth, I wished I had remembered those words differently.
The man looked up from his glass of water.
He was probably in his late sixties. Silver hair. Expensive watch. Calm eyes.
The kind of person who didn’t need to announce his importance because the room already seemed to know.
“I know,” he said.
I blinked.
“You know?””
He nodded toward the small reservation card on the table.
“My name is on it.””
I glanced down.
The card had Wesley’s last name printed neatly.
HAYES.
My eyebrows pulled together.
“Then you should probably move.””
The man didn’t move.
Instead, he folded his hands on the table.
“I’m waiting for someone.””
I let out a small laugh, mostly from disbelief.
“So am I.””
The silence between us grew uncomfortable.
A server passed by and looked at us carefully, sensing tension.
The man looked at me for a moment longer.
“You seem certain this is your table.””
“It is.””
“And you’re certain I don’t belong here.””
I crossed my arms.
“You’re sitting at my reservation.””
His expression changed slightly.
Not anger.
Something else.
Disappointment.
That annoyed me even more.
“I’m sorry,” I said, though my tone suggested the opposite.
“But some people think they can do whatever they want just because they’re comfortable.””
The man slowly leaned back.
“And what exactly do you think I’m doing?””
“Sitting somewhere that isn’t yours.””
A server approached quickly.
“Ma’am, perhaps we can check the reservation system and—”
“No,” I interrupted.
The words came out sharper than I intended.
“He knows this table is reserved.””
The older man looked at the server and then back at me.
“I’m aware of that.””
The server hesitated.
“Sir?””
The man calmly placed his napkin beside his plate and stood.
He was taller than I expected.
“I hope Wesley knows how you speak to people when he isn’t around.””
My stomach tightened.
The irritation disappeared instantly.
“How do you know Wesley?””
The man didn’t answer.
He simply looked at me.
And somehow, that was worse.
The restaurant doors opened behind us.
“Corinne?””
I turned.
Wesley stood there holding a bouquet of white roses.
His face was bright for half a second.
Then he saw the man standing beside me.
The color drained from his expression.
“Dad?””
The world seemed to stop.
I looked from Wesley to the stranger.
Dad.
My mouth opened, but no words came out.
Wesley walked toward us slowly.
“Corinne…” His voice was quiet.
“This is my father. Sterling Hayes.””
My face burned.
“No.””
It came out as a whisper.
Sterling looked at me without anger.
That somehow made it worse.
“I didn’t know,” I said quickly.
Wesley’s eyes moved between us.
“What happened?””
I grabbed his arm.
“Wesley, I thought he was a stranger sitting in our reservation.””
Sterling picked up his coat.
“That’s true.””
Wesley looked at him.
“Dad…”
Sterling’s expression remained calm.
“That’s exactly why tonight mattered.””
I swallowed.
Wesley had spent months telling me this dinner was important.
He had told me his father’s opinion mattered.
And in less than five minutes, I had managed to make the worst possible first impression.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Sterling stared at me.
Then he quietly asked, “Are you?””
The question landed harder than an accusation.
Wesley looked uncomfortable.
“Dad, she didn’t know who you were.””
Sterling nodded.
“I know.””
Then he looked at me.
“And that is what concerns me.””
My chest tightened.
“What do you mean?””
Sterling reached for the door.
“Before you explain yourself, Wesley, there’s something you should know.””
Wesley frowned.
“What?””
Sterling looked directly at his son.
“She said something else before you arrived.””
I froze.
“What?””
Sterling’s hand rested on the door handle.
“When she thought nobody important was listening…”
He paused.
“And that tells you more than anything she would say now.””
Then he walked out.
May you like
Leaving Wesley staring at me.
And for the first time in our relationship, I wondered if he was seeing me differently.
