Page 37 of My Broken Mate

“I didn’t, but I read up on it when you told me which restaurant your father bought,” I say.

Since Lyle’s father organized our dinner outing, we are already expected when we enter the restaurant. It’s a very fancy place, pretty popular, but with room for improvement—quite the clever business move from Lyle’s father. It’s exactly the type of place the wealthier alpha families and their ranked members will want to dine or hold meetings. Outside, people are actually lining up to get in.

“Your dad made a good deal,” I voice my thoughts out loud.

“Seems like it,” Lyle says.

“While this is human territory, there are a lot of wolves within the staff,” I add. “It will make it easier to meet here and hold more sensitive meetings.”

“Really? I didn’t even notice,” Lyle gazes around. “But you are right.” He sighs. “It’s a bit too fancy for my liking. Do we really have to eat something?”

I don’t get to answer immediately because a waiter approaches us and leads us to our place at the roof deck of the restaurant, opening up to a beautiful view all over the city.

“This is truly a stunning view,” I admit.

“I agree.” Lyle looks around in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

The waiter looks incredibly pleased with our comment, albeit still a bit nervous. We both sit down at our table and have him bring us the menu, which pretty much answers Lyle’s previous question.

We do have to eat here.

“I don’t even know what they serve,” Lyle whispers to me. “Last time my father ordered me to go and eat somewhere, and I bothered to check their menu, I felt sick. I’m just not…” he pauses. “You know me. I am weird when it’s about food. But it would be a disgrace to my father not to eat something here.”

“I get it,” I say. “I don’t really mind what we eat, but—”

“But I am picky,” Lyle adds. “I know, it sucks. What should I order? If I look at the menu, I know what I’ll be eating. And sometimes it’s better not knowing.”

This trait of his is kind of funny because he is so serious and well-mannered usually. We both grew up in a high-class family and within the high society of high-ranking pack members. We know the drill, we know how to behave, but Lyle has always been a picky eater. He hides it well, and he has learned to swallow down anything he gets served, but he hates it.

He thinks this puts people off of him, but I think it makes him more charming. He is just such a genuine person.

“I have an idea,” I say.

“Really? Good, I’ll let you handle it.”

We get interrupted by the waiter approaching us again. “May I take the order from the young masters?”

I smile politely at the man. “With that many delicious options to choose from, neither of us can make a decision. We would very much appreciate it if you could offer us the kitchen’s recommendation.”

The waiter nods. “I would be honored to do so. May I provide the two young gentlemen with the wine of the day for now?”

“Yes,” Lyle chimes in. “Please do so.”

The waiter brings us a bottle of red wine to go with the first course before promising to surprise us with the staff’s recommendation. I leave it up to Lyle to find a way not to listen to the man when he indeed brings us the food and explains to us what it is. I guess his wolf could sing something to distract him, whereas for me, it doesn’t really matter.

While cooking is the only thing I truly like doing, it seems like everything tastes bland to me. I could eat a chalkboard and I wouldn’t even mind. Before we can start eating, I take my pills. I don’t know if it’s because of stress or if it’s just my body, but I can’t easily eat milk products. The test didn’t show a lactose intolerance, so it’s probably just psychosomatic. Another point on the list of my failures. Just why can’t my body comply with me? It’s like everything about me is constantly crumbling and breaking.

“I am so glad you are here,” Lyle says after we just get our first course. He has successfully avoided hearing what it was, so he can eat it blissfully ignorant, as he calls it.

“I am happy to help,” I say.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lyle grins. “I think it’s just more fun with you. Imagine it were just me.”

“You could have asked Kiki.”

“Nah, Kiki hates this kind of stuff.” He pauses. “So, how was your meeting with Katalina? You haven’t said anything about her, and here I am, dying of curiosity.”

“Well,” I say, not sure what to answer him. How was my meeting with her? I can’t tell. It was different. Not as draining as expected, but at the same time, it just made me spiral, and I don’t know why. “She is honest.”