Tender Hearts

Social Notwithstandings

"I'm still not sure about this," Tom groaned as he tugged at the jacket they'd found. "It still feels a bit tight."

Evie looked at him from the corners of her eyes in an attempt to keep her eyes on the road. "Jackets and ties are required at the restaurant," she explained. "I'm sorry we couldn't find another one." She was even more sorry that, considering she lived modestly without the use of the trust fund and the exclusive job she'd traded for her independence. 

"I've never been comfortable in this type of clothing," he complained. "The necessities of them have always been for functions upon which I don't look back too fondly - funerals, for instance." His face was drawn and that fact, along with the brutal reality of the bruises he bore, which were becoming even more pronounced as time brought out their anger, made him look like a thug on his way to a trial date. He mussed with his hair, using the mirror on the back of the visor. "God, I look horrible. I'm sure your mother will love meeting me."

She took a deep breath and let it out through gritted teeth. Second thoughts flashed through her mind, not that she didn't want him there, but that he'd have been better off holed up in her room until they knew what was going on. Of course, she felt safer with him there, especially considering Chas was scheduled to make an appearance. "Suits can be for good things, too," she retorted, then, reaching over and setting her hand on his leg, "Besides, you look damn hot."

He set his hand on top of hers. "Alright," he sighed, "Ego efficiently stroked. For you, I'll do it."

They maneuvered into the valet parking of the plaza where the restaurant was located and stopped at the curb where a man in a pristine white suit was waiting to take her keys. Evie couldn't help but let out a small snort at what they must have thought at having to park her beat-up Toyota among all the luxury cars in the parking garage. "I'm giving you the valet ticket," she told Tom as she unbuckled her seat belt.

He got out of the car and made his way around to the drivers' side. "Why?" he asked as he helped her out.

"If I'm facing my mother, there better be a good amount of wine involved," she rolled her eyes. Grasping his hand, she let him lead her to the curb.

"Who's name would you like to put your car under?" the valet asked as they approached.

Evie looked at Tom for a moment. "Hiddleston, Tom," she answered as she handed the keys over.

"Very well, Mrs. Hiddleston." As he stepped away from them, Tom stifled a grin.

"What's that for?" she asked, masking her own amusement. "It's a reasonable assumption."

Tom pulled her close and kissed her lightly on the temple. "I love that you didn't correct him," he answered. "Most women would've been offended."

She stepped one step ahead of him and looked back. "I'm not most women."

He could tell she was in her element, as much as she despised it. She waltzed into the lobby and approached the maitre'd to check in. Of course, the maitre'd recognized her right away and waved them both past his podium to follow a hostess. Everything was fancier than Tom, himself, was used to, from the crystal chandeliers, the sleek modern furniture and the deliberately worn-looking walls to the tuxedos worn by the entire staff. "This is quite the place," he commented as they were escorted to their table.

"It's my favorite," Evie whispered. "Just wait until you try the tiramisu."

Her mother was already there and waved as soon as she saw them. It was more an indicator for Evie to see her than a greeting, because it was accompanied by a blase smirk that could have been a disapproval. Tom already felt nervous and the way that the woman looked at him, immediately with distrust, made his stomach churn. He squeezed Evie's hand for reassurance. His own assessment was that her mother was attempting to look younger than her years, clad as she was in a designer suit, bleached blond hair and taut skin that looked akin to leather stretched a little too far. Everything about her looked fake and overdone.