Chapter 69
Both he and his car were ostentatious. The moment his sleek vehicle came to a stop, young women stared and giggled, while young men snapped photos, envious of the car.
“Tacky,” I muttered under my breath, stepping out of the car.
I glanced around, then asked, “What do you want for dinner?”
Nick flashed me a smirk. “You decide.”
I surveyed the restaurants nearby and, without hesitation, walked into a French restaurant. Nick followed, teasing, “Scarlett, you’re quite the romantic.”
I didn’t bother responding. I had picked this place for its quiet ambiance—no one would be staring at me here.
As we entered, the server greeted us warmly. “Table for two? We have a couple’s set today. Would you like to try that?”
“Sure, we’ll take that,” Nick said casually, adding, “And a bottle of wine, please.”
I shot him a quick glance. “I’ll just have a glass of fruit juice, please.”
The server nodded and left us to our seats. Nick grinned at me, clearly amused. “Forgot you can’t drink alcohol, huh?”
He was doing it on purpose. I could see right through him.
Ignoring him, I checked my phone. Ashton had sent me a simple text: Where are you?
I didn’t reply, locking my phone before glancing up. Nick was staring at me now, an odd look on his face.
“What is it?” I asked, my brows furrowing.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like a celebrity?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
The server brought over our steak just as Nick spoke. I thanked the server before answering, “Who?”
Surprised that I actually acknowledged him, he straightened in his seat and said, “Angelina Jolie.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes. I used to get that a lot in university.”
Back then, my friends used to tell me I looked like her. But now, with my glasses on, I rarely heard that comparison anymore. They probably had the same effect on my appearance as my change in style.
Nick continued, unfazed. “You resemble another person I know.”
I sliced into my steak, guessing he was just trying to make conversation out of boredom.
“Mm?” I hummed, keeping my focus on the food.
Nick didn’t eat his steak; instead, he swirled his wine glass thoughtfully. “You resemble my mother, especially your eyes. Both of you have similar eyes.”
At this point, he was starting to annoy me. I stuffed a piece of steak into my mouth and shot him a glare. “I guess I have one of those faces. Someone once told me I looked like Rebecca too!”
George had often commented on how I resembled Rebecca back in the day, but I never truly saw it. We might have had similar brows or eyes, but that didn’t mean we were twins or anything. Perhaps we shared the same ancestral traits from centuries ago.
Nick pouted and finished off his wine. “Why did you transfer away from N University back then?”
His question took me by surprise. How did he know about that?
I put my utensils down and met his gaze. “Were we university mates?”
He raised a brow, refilling his glass. “You don’t remember me?”
I shook my head. The only time I remembered seeing him was when I started handling Fuller Corporation’s audit. That was the extent of our interactions.
Nick shrugged, unfazed. “Never mind. Just remember me from now on.”
We exchanged a few more words, though it was mostly him talking while I focused on my meal. He didn’t eat a thing, finishing the bottle of wine all by himself. Afterward, he slouched across the table, staring at me blankly.
As it was getting late, I decided to pay the bill. I didn’t want to stay out too late, especially with an early flight tomorrow.
When I made my way to the counter, I spotted someone unexpected: Nick’s mother, Cameron, and Rebecca, both shopping together, hand in hand.
It was strange—I’d never thought they’d know each other. I watched them from a distance, surprised to see them acting like mother and daughter.
After paying, I returned to Nick, who was now visibly flushed from the wine. I raised an eyebrow. “Can you walk?”
“No,” he replied petulantly, slurring his words slightly.
I sighed, grabbed my bag, and helped him out of the restaurant.
A few hours ago, Nick had entered the restaurant with all the grace of a gentleman. Now, he was stumbling out like a tipsy fool.
I helped him into the passenger seat of his car and started the engine. The sports car was low to the ground, which made driving it uncomfortable for me—I was used to my Cadillac.
Thankfully, traffic was light, and I didn’t run into any issues.
I offered to take him back to Pear Garden, but he refused, insisting on telling me where he was staying. After some back-and-forth, he finally admitted that he was living at Peakville Estate, which shocked me—it was the same residential area where Ashton and I lived.
“Scarlett, don’t you remember me?” he mumbled halfway home.
I frowned. “Do we know each other?”
Nick let out a bitter chuckle. “Am I the only one who remembers the mulberry tree in Winona’s yard, the flowers by the riverbank, and you with a snotty nose?”