Across the other side of town, Derrick's black Maybach rolled up outside L'Avis. Tinted windows hiding everything but power. The second the engine cut, it was like the block paused.
Then the driver's door opened.Out stepped a mountain. Six-foot-five, bald head catching the streetlight, arms thicker than your head, chest so wide his fitted black shirt was hanging on for dear life. His black slacks were sharp, shoes clean, and his walk said he'd been military — or worse. He didn't speak. Didn't need to.
He moved around the car and opened the back door, standing still like a statue.
Derrick stepped out. He didn't rush. He brushed a speck of dust off his shoulder, adjusted his cufflinks, then let out a slow breath like the city didn't even deserve his time tonight.
Then he leaned down and reached into the car. Mavis stepped out like she belonged to royalty. Her burgundy dress fit her body like a second skin, slit riding up just enough to turn heads without trying. Heels hitting the pavement smooth. Her hair curled to perfection. Earrings catching the streetlight. Straight elegance.
She looked up at the restaurant.
"Derrick… no you didn't," she said, hand over her mouth, trying to contain the smile creeping out.
"I did," he said, cool as ever. "You deserve best of the best."
"Stop it. You're making me blush," she said, walking with him toward the doors.
The second they reached the front, the host by the podium caught sight of Derrick and froze.Eyes wide. Mouth open. He backed up a step and ran inside without saying a word.
He pushed through the kitchen doors like his life depended on it."DERRICK'S HERE!" he yelled.
The kitchen went dead silent. A pot dropped to the floor. One of the chefs turned white.
"Derrick who?" the head chef asked, turning around.
"Derrick Greene."
The chef swallowed hard. "Oh, hell no… everyone stop what you're doing — right now!"Knives hit the boards. Pans came off heat. The kitchen moved like a military unit.
"I want my best dishes on that line. Fresh cuts. Flawless plates. Do you hear me?!"
The manager came running out from the side office, nearly choking on his coffee."Derrick's here?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Then why are you still standing here?" he snapped, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Table for two. Move!"
He fixed his collar, popped a mint, breathed into his palm to check, then marched straight through the kitchen, fixing his blazer on the way out.
By the time he hit the front door, Derrick was already standing there, Mavis on his arm like a queen.
The manager forced a smile, smoothing out every crease from his shirt like it mattered."Mr. and Mrs. Greene," he said, voice steady but eyes wide. "It's an honor to have you both with us tonight."
Derrick nodded, chest out. "The honor's all mine."He turned slightly to Mavis. "This is my wife."
The manager smiled. "A queen fit for a king."
"Oh, stop it," Mavis said, blushing just a little.
"Please," the manager said, stepping aside, "allow me to escort you myself."
They stepped through the doors like royalty. No menus. No line. Just quiet whispers and tilted heads.People didn't stare — not directly. Just that sideways glance over a wine glass, that gentle whisper when power walks into the room. Mavis walked like she was born for it. Derrick walked like he owned the whole damn city.
The manager led them past tables, weaving through the high-end crowd, past a grand piano playing low jazz, until they reached a booth tucked away in the back corner — private, dimly lit, with a clean view of the skyline through a tall glass window.
He pulled Mavis's chair out smoothly, handed Derrick the wine list, but Derrick didn't even look at it.
"Your finest bottle," he said, cold and casual.
"Yes, sir. Right away."
The manager dipped his head and disappeared like smoke.
Now they were alone.Candle burning between them. The city lights behind Mavis made the diamonds in her ears dance. It looked like the skyline was built just for her.
She leaned forward a little, her elbow on the table, swirling a strand of hair around her finger.
"Derrick Greene," she said with a slow smile. "You really outdid yourself this time."
He smirked. "Why thank you, Mrs. Greene. Anything for my queen."
She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Still as smooth as the first day we met."
He reached across the table and locked fingers with her. For a moment, everything else disappeared — the stress, the noise, the city. It was just them.
They sat in silence for a second, the candle burning between them.
"You know I've been thinking…" Derrick started.
Mavis raised an eyebrow. "That's dangerous."
He chuckled. "Nah, I'm serious. We don't do this enough. Just… us."
She nodded slowly, the laughter in her eyes fading to something softer."Yeah. Life's been moving too fast lately. You're always out late. I'm always exhausted by the time you get in."She sighed, playing with her hair again."Come to think of it… we haven't even had a proper argument in months. Who would've thought? The thing I hated the most… ended up being the thing I started missing. How wrong is that?"
Derrick didn't say anything. He just stared, seeing her pain slowly reveal itself from behind the curtain. The stuff hidden behind smiles and busy days.
"Maybe we're growing up," he joked.
Mavis gave him a look. "Or maybe we're losing track of what really matters."
He leaned back, grabbed his glass. "That's why I did this. Tonight. You deserve more than stolen minutes and tired conversations."
The food came — pasta dressed like art, herb-rubbed lamb fresh off the grill, steam rising like smoke signals.The waiter placed it down with care, nodded, and left.
Derrick picked up his fork, but paused.
"You know something?" he said.
"What?"
"I watch you. When you're not looking. The way you hold it all together — the house, the kids, me."He looked down at his plate for a second. "You never complain. Never guilt trip me. You just keep holding it down."
Mavis blinked, her food untouched.
"I don't always say it right. But I see you. And I appreciate you."
She leaned back, arms folded, trying not to smile. "You trying to get lucky tonight?"
He laughed, loud and full — the kind of laugh that lit the whole room.
"Nah," he said. "I'm saying I love you. And I see you."
Mavis raised her glass. "You damn right you do."
They clinked, soft crystal meeting soft firelight.
From there, it flowed.They talked about Kieran's obsession with comic books, Leon's new habit of falling asleep sideways, and how Mavis had been hiding his snacks just to watch him struggle on top shelves.
They laughed. Real laughs.
Then dessert came — a velvet chocolate tart, one plate, two forks.
Just as they went for their first bite… Derrick's phone started vibrating on the table.
It didn't ring. Just buzzed — hard. The screen lit up, jumping like it was begging to be answered.Buzz.Buzz.Buzz.
Mavis gave him a look.
"It's nothing," Derrick muttered, not even reaching for it.Buzz.Buzz.
Mavis narrowed her eyes. "Is that your work line?"
Derrick sighed, picked up the phone.Caller ID: Jenny.He stared at it. The joy from his face slowly slipping away.
Mavis waited. No pressure. No anger. Just waiting.
"You should probably answer it," she said softly.
Derrick tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear.
"Jenny, this better be important. I told you — I'm not taking calls tonight. I'm with my wife."
"I know, boss. I'm sorry. But this… this couldn't wait."
Derrick's jaw clenched. The tension was back.
"It's Robert."
His face dropped.Mavis already knew — her smile gone before the words even landed.