My stepdaughter invited me to a restaurant I was speechless when the bill came
It had felt like an eternity since Id last heard from my stepdaughter, Imogen. So when she asked me out to dinner, I thought maybe it was finally our chance to mend things. But nothing couldve prepared me for the surprise she had waiting for me at that restaurant.
My name is Nigel, Im 50, and over the years, Ive learned to live with a lot. My lifes fairly steadymaybe even a bit dull. I work in a quiet office, live in a modest house, and spend most evenings with a book or watching the telly. Nothing too exciting, but it suits me. The one thing Ive never quite managed is my relationship with Imogen.
A year had passed, maybe more, since wed last spoken. Wed never really got on, not even when I married her mum, Margaret, back when Imogen was still a teenager. Shed always kept her distance, and over time, Id stopped trying too hard. So I was taken aback when she rang out of the blue, her voice oddly cheerful.
“Hello, Nigel,” she said, almost too enthusiastically. “Fancy going out for dinner? Theres a new place Ive been meaning to try.”
At first, I didnt know what to say. Imogen hadnt reached out in ages. Was this her way of making peace? Trying to build a bridge between us? If so, I was ready. Id hoped for this for years. I wanted to feel like we were family, even if it had never quite clicked.
“Of course,” I replied, hoping for a fresh start. “Just tell me where and when.”
The restaurant was poshfar fancier than I was used to. Dark wooden tables, soft lighting, waiters in crisp white shirts. When I arrived, Imogen was already there, and she looked different. She smiled at me, but it didnt quite reach her eyes.
“Hi, Nigel! You came!” she greeted me with an odd energy, like she was trying too hard to seem relaxed. I sat across from her, trying to read the room.
“So, howve you been?” I asked, hoping to nudge us toward something real.
“Fine, fine,” she replied quickly, flipping through the menu. “You? Everything alright?” Her tone was polite but detached.
“Same old routine,” I said, though she didnt seem to be listening. Before I could say more, she gestured to the waiter.
“Well have the lobster,” she said, flashing me a quick smile, “and maybe the ribeye too. Sound good?”
I blinked, surprised. I hadnt even glanced at the menu, and she was already ordering the priciest dishes. I shrugged, trying not to overthink it. “Sure, if you like.”
But something felt off. She was fidgety, checking her phone every few seconds, barely answering my questions.
Over dinner, I tried steering the conversation toward something deeper. “Its been a while since we last talked, hasnt it? Ive missed catching up.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, not looking up from her plate. “Been busy.”
“Busy enough to vanish for a year?” I asked with a half-laugh, though there was a hint of sadness in my voice.
She glanced at me briefly, then went back to her food. “You know how it is work, life”
Her eyes kept darting around the room, like she was waiting for something. I pressed on, asking about her job, her friends, anythingbut her replies were short and lifeless.
The longer the meal went on, the more I felt like an outsider in my own story.
Then the bill came. I reached for it automatically, pulling out my card, as expected. But just as I went to hand it over, Imogen leaned toward the waiter and whispered something I couldnt catch.
Before I could ask, she gave me a quick smile and stood. “Be right back,” she said. “Just popping to the loo.”
I watched her walk off, a knot in my stomach. Something wasnt right. The waiter handed me the bill, and my heart skipped a beat at the total. Far more than Id bargained for.
I looked toward the toilets, waiting for her to return but she didnt.
Minutes ticked by. The waiter gave me a questioning look. I sighed and handed over my card, swallowing the bitterness. What the hell just happened? Had she really ditched me with the bill?
I paid up, feeling hollow. As I headed for the door, frustration and sadness washed over me. All Id wanted was a chance to reconnect, to talk properly for once. Instead, Id just been used for a free meal.
But just before I reached the exit, I heard a noise behind me.
I turned slowly, unsure what to expect. My stomach tightenedbut when I saw Imogen standing there, I froze.
In her arms was a massive cake, beaming like a kid whod pulled off the perfect prank. In her other hand, she clutched a bunch of colourful balloons bobbing above her head. I blinked, trying to make sense of it.
Before I could speak, she stepped closer with a grin and announced, “Youre going to be a grandad!”
For a moment, I just stood there, stunned. “Grandad?” I repeated, as if Id missed a chapter.
My voice shook slightly. It was the last thing Id expected.
She burst out laughing, her eyes bright with the same nervous energy shed had all evening. But now it all made sense. “Yes! I wanted to surprise you,” she said, holding out the cake. It was white, with blue and pink icing, and in big letters: “Congratulations, Grandad!”
I blinked again, trying to process it. “Wait you planned all this?”
She nodded, the balloons swaying. “Yes! I set it up with the waiter. Wanted to make it special. Thats why I disappeared. I didnt ditch you, I swear. I just wanted to give you the best surprise ever.”
Something inside me softened. Not disappointment, not anger. Something warmer.
I looked at the cake, then at Imogens face, and it all started to click. “You did all this for me?” I asked quietly, still in disbelief.
“Course I did, Nigel,” she said gently. “I know weve had our ups and downs, but I wanted you to be part of this. Youre going to be a grandad.”
