The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 8 - A Different Life

The waitress returns with our drinks and takes our order. I smile when he orders the steak as well. I reach out for the bottle of water but Mr Cordina gets to it first.

"I may be a 'proper asshole' but I am also a gentleman," he growls, pouring the cold water into my glass. He says it without a hint of maliciousness, but the impact of his words is striking.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude," I apologise genuinely.

"So why were you?"

"It seems to be a default reaction of mine as of late."

His half smile threatens to make an appearance again. "As of late? Or around me?"

My mouth goes dry again, another reaction I seem to be having as of late. Not around him. He takes his lower lip between his teeth, peering at me expectantly. My mind races for something to say.

"Mr Cordina-"

"Jeremy," he corrects.

"Right, Jeremy," I say perfectly aware of how strange his name feels on my tongue. "Do you think we can start over, maybe?"

He gives me a mildly surprised look. Almost suspicious.

"Um... Tell me something about yourself," I go on feeling as stupid as I ever have in my life. Maybe that Flirting 101 class isn't such a bad idea.

I half expect him to roll his eyes and leave the table right there and then. But his expression softens as he furrows his thick brows.

"Okay. Well, you already know who I am and what I do. I live in Marsascala. I just turned thirty-two-"

I gasp in surprise. "Did you really? I thought you were younger."

The right corner of his mouth twitches as he reaches for his whiskey. "Is it my boyish charm or my immature wit that fooled you?"

"Oh, definitely your boyish charm," I retort sarcastically without thinking.

This time, he does roll his eyes. "Christ, you sound just like my mother."

I study him carefully, trying to evaluate whether he's being serious or cynical, but all I get is that infuriating blank face of his. I get the impression that his dig was more aimed at his mother than it was at me and something in my heart aches for him.

"Well, thirty-two is a great age," I go on when he doesn't say anything else. "And you have your own business and everything so... I guess you're doing alright."

He considers me for a moment, all the while swirling the whiskey glass smoothly in his right hand. He brushes the rim slowly against his lower lip and I give myself admiring how perfectly symmetrical his mouth is. "Yes, you'd think so, wouldn't you?"

I don't know how to answer to that, so I just give him a small smile.

"Do you ever wonder," he goes on pensively, "what things would be like if you were born into a completely different life?"

I hesitate at his random question, wondering if he realises how intrusive it is. "I do come from a different life, Mr Cordina," I say cautiously. "Things were very different before I moved in with Nanna Millie in her little house in Bormla. Things don't always turn out the way we expect them to. We have to believe it's for the best, right?"

His eyes flash as he studies me thoroughly, kind of like the way Millie does when she knows I'm evading her questions.

"Jeremy," he sighs after a while. Then he adds, "Sounds like you're one hell of an optimist, Sparky."