My Grumpy Billionaire

“You still want to try ramen?” Griffin asks as I snap photos.

Although I wasn’t hungry earlier, once Griffin mentions the food, my stomach decides I need more than a tiny muffin. “Yes!”

“The taxi driver recommended two places.” He squints a little as he scans the area. “That way.”

We go to a hole in the wall that can only accommodate twenty or so patrons. The ceiling is low, and there are four tiny tables and a counter that can seat twelve. Although it’s still early for lunch, the place is already more than half-full, and all the tables are taken. We sit at the counter and have obscenely delicious bowls of ramen. The broth is so thick and rich—without being overly greasy—that it almost seems like a separate entrée unto itself.

After the quick lunch, we head to a gorgeous park with lots of interesting landscaping, including elegant wooden arch bridges I take so many pictures of. I can’t believe something like this is in the middle of Tokyo. The park is enormous, and so many different trees line various sections.

“It’ll be prettier in spring or fall,” Griffin says.

“I can see fall with the autumn foliage, but why spring?”

“Cherry blossom season.”

“Oh…” I look up at the gnarled branches, heavy with green leaves, above us and try to imagine them full of small pink flowers. “Maybe we can come back then.” I hope he says yes; it’ll be a signal that he’s open to making our relationship something more concrete than a temporary fake arrangement.

“Perhaps we will.”

Good enough,I decide with a small smile. One step at a time.

When it’s a little after five twenty p.m., Griffin grabs a taxi to head to the Skytree. Apparently, it’s going to take at least an hour to get there with the traffic.

“If the dinner reservation is at seven, do we need to start heading out there so early?” I ask.

“Yes. The Japanese will consider you late if you aren’t there at least fifteen minutes early.”

“What?” I laugh. “Are you kidding?”

“No. Also we have to factor in the time to enter the tower and take the elevator up to the restaurant deck. It’s over eleven hundred feet in the air.”

He’s right to leave Shinjuku early. The road is pretty congested, which is shocking given it’s a Sunday and there shouldn’t be a rush hour. Our taxi also has to stop a lot because of heavy pedestrian traffic. I tilt my head so I can look at the Skytree as we approach it. The tower soars into the sky like a blade, sharp and sleek. It’s amazing that the Japanese built something so tall, given the frequent earthquakes they get. I read that the tower is quake-proof, but I hope everything’s calm when we’re up there. I’ve experienced quakes, having grown up in SoCal, but I don’t want to experience one while we’re over a thousand feet up in the sky.

The lines are long at the tower. But once we’re in the elevator, it ascends smoothly and almost soundlessly.

“This is so futuristic,” I say.

“A marvel of Japanese engineering,” Griffin says. “They know what they’re doing.”

By the time we reach the deck where the restaurant is, it’s exactly six forty-eight.

“Told you,” Griffin says, checking his watch.

“So are we early or late?” I ask.

“We’re good. They won’t complain.”

He’s right. A smiling maître d’ takes us to a table by the glass wall so we can get the view and the meal. The light is set low, the interior dark and sleek. There’s a hint of wine and rich sauces in the air. The center of the restaurant is a gigantic teppan station with a huge metal cooking surface and a counter with seats that wraps around it. A chef in a uniform preps meat, seafood and vegetables at the station.

Our server hands us our menus, but I leave mine on the table without opening it. I can’t read it anyway. Instead, I take some pictures of the city below.

Griffin opens his and studies each page, his brow furrowed. I realize he figured out the menu for me at the ramen restaurant, too. “Can you read the language as well?”

“Yes,” Griffin says. I stare, wondering what else he can do. He doesn’t seem to notice my shock. “Do you already know what you want?”

“I’ll order whatever you’re getting, since I can’t read the menu anyway.”

He gives me a look. “It’s in English, French and Japanese.”