primadonna girl || wilbur soot

Chapter Fifty-Two

[REAL LIFE]

And here they were again. A repeat of past events, a reprise of a song. Wilbur is even wearing the same dress shirt.

His blazer is blue this time, and Clara wears a lemon-yellow cocktail dress, the pair looking like a more modern beauty and the beast.

"I'm nervous," Wilbur says, wringing his hands.

Clara shakes her head. "We've done this once before, and it turned out well."

"Yeah, but what if it doesn't?"

She rolls her eyes. "I think after meeting Cam, you think my dad is going to be ten times worse. I'm telling you, this may be one of the easiest conversations you'll ever have."

When they spoke on the phone about this, Clive sounded stern, yes. But the thing about him was that he had the backbone of an eclair. The second Wilbur mentioned anything in the world that her dad liked, the man would break.

Wilbur shook his head, clearly chilled to his very core. "I'm sorry love, but I don't believe you."

Clara sighs and leans in to kiss him, attempting to settle his nerves with her lips on his. It works slightly, as she feels Wilbur relax against her, leaning in tightly. She knots her fingers in his hair, trying to calm him down.

Despite every bone in his body telling him to stay and keep kissing her, Wilbur drags himself away. "I don't want to be late."

Clara scoffs, but takes his hand, leading him inside.

The pick is her dad's, a rare find of a fine-dining Mexican restaurant, the dress code being fancy dress while consuming an inhumane amount of nachos.

She smiles at the host. "Hi, reservation for-"

"-for Clive? Oakworth?" A slightly teasing voice comes from behind her, making Clara grin widely and turn around.

"Dad!" She squeals, running to his arms.

He laughs as he envelopes her in a hug, nearly picking her up off the ground.

"It's so good to see my sweet girl!" He says voice muffled as his face is buried in Clara's shoulder.

Wilbur lingers awkwardly by the host's stand, fiddling with his cuffs.

Clive pulls away from Clara and gives Wilbur a once-over.

"Hey kid," Clive says condescendingly, raising a brow.

"Hello, sir," Wilbur responds, daring to meet Clive's eyes.

"So... where's the watch from?"

Wilbur blanches at the unexpected question but recovers quickly. "Chopard, sir. One of the only expensive indulgences I've allowed for myself."

"Then you participate in expensive indulgences for others?"

Wilbur's eyes flick to the necklace around Clara's neck, the girl touching it absent-mindedly. "Yes, sir."

Clive seems to follow Wilbur's view for a moment, before turning back to the man. Briefly, he still appears tough. But then, ever so slightly, a smile cracks through.

"Pleasure to meet you, Wilbur." Clive sticks out a hand. When Wilbur goes to shake it, Clive slaps Wilbur's hand instead before clutching it tight and pulling the other man close. Could it be... a bro hug?

Wilbur looks shell-shocked as he pulls away. He's in.

"Hello, I'm here too!" Nicolette calls jokingly, stepping out to greet her stepdaughter. Clara beams, giving her a gentle hug.