The atmosphere at the table was so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife—which Julian looked like he wanted to do.
Arthur was currently occupied with a "Daisy Emergency." He was meticulously peeling a grape for her while whispering sweet reassurances that the restaurant's air conditioning wasn't a personal attack on her immune system.
"There you go, Daisy," Arthur said with a saintly smile. "Eat this. It's full of antioxidants to fight off that... uh... fountain-induced chill."
"Oh, Arthur," Daisy sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You're the only one who truly understands the fragility of life. Unlike some people who just... drink wine and act like nothing happened."
Clara didn't even look up from her menu.
"Arthur, you're doing a great job. Truly. If you can keep her from fainting before the appetizers arrive, I might even give you a medal. Or at least a better wine recommendation."
Julian's eyes flashed. He leaned across the table, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"Is that your new strategy, Seraphina? Using Arthur as a babysitter so you can play 'independent woman' in front of me? It's transparent. Even for you."
Clara finally looked at him, her expression one of pure, bored pity.
"Julian, honey, if I wanted to play a role, I'd be at the theatre. I'm just enjoying the view. It's lovely to see you and Daisy finally in the same orbit without me having to throw a vase to get you in the same room. You should thank me. I'm basically your Cupid, just with better shoes."
"Cupid?" Julian scoffed, his fingers tightening around his water glass.
"You're more like a localized natural disaster. And don't think I don't see what you're doing with Arthur. You've never looked at him twice in five years, and now you're suddenly interested in his 'AI integration'? Please. You don't even know what AI stands for."
"It stands for 'Absolutely Irritating,' which is what you are currently being," Clara shot back, flashing a brilliant, fake smile.
"And for your information, I like Arthur. He's like a golden retriever—loyal, bright, and he doesn't snap his pens like a toddler having a tantrum. Why don't you focus on Daisy? She's currently struggling with a breadstick. It looks very heavy for her."
Julian glanced at Daisy, who was indeed holding a breadstick with two hands as if it were a heavy broadsword. He looked back at Clara, his jaw working.
"You're pushing her on me to save face," Julian hissed. "Because you know I'll never choose you."
"Julian, if I wanted you to choose me, I'd be crying into a silk hanky right now," Clara whispered back, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"Instead, I'm trying to figure out if Arthur likes French silk pie. Now, be a good 'Second Lead' and go help Daisy with her pashmina. It's slipping. One more inch and she'll catch a cold that could end the world."
Arthur looked up, beaming. "Did someone say French silk pie? I love that! How did you know, Seraphina?"
"Just a lucky guess, Arthur," Clara purred, ignoring the way Julian's glass made a small crack sound on the table.
"I've always said you had excellent taste. Unlike some people who prefer their coffee—and their personalities—bitter and burnt."
Julian stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair.
"I'm going to go check on the wine list. This table's IQ is dropping by the second."
"Take your time, Julian!" Clara called out as he stormed away. "And bring back some honey for Daisy! She looks like she's about to have a low-blood-sugar crisis over a crouton!"