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“I know it’s Tuesday, but some of us were thinking about heading to Gino’s for dinner and a drink.”
My gut reaction is to say “no.” I’m not opposed to colleague bonding time, but accepting an invitation from Kenzie just feels… wrong. I open my mouth to turn her down, aware that if she’d been anyone else—like Carl from the next office over—I’d have said “yes,” and it’s that thought that stops me from turning Kenzie down flat.
“Sure,” I say, “I like Gino’s.” Because who doesn’t like a good Italian place with plentiful antipasto and an excellent wine list?
“Great!” Kenzie tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and her blue eyes peek up at me from under her lashes. I wait for the coquettish look to do something for me. It doesn’t. “I feel like we’ve worked together for months and I barely know you. We’re walking over around five. See you then.”
She’s gone before I can say something like “this is just a work thing, right?” So I pick up my phone and type out a message to Quinn. I just want to let her know I’ll be unavailable this evening, but then I don’t send it. I don’t know if the reason I delete the words is that I will, in fact, be available if she calls—no matter what I’m doing—or if it’s because it feels strange to account for my whereabouts when she hasn’t asked. Would it sound like I was bragging? I have plans? Definitely not thinking about you? I definitely am.
Two hours later, I’m stepping into the wood-paneled bar in Logan Square. Gino’s leans into its rumored historical mafia connections. Gold wall sconces cast orange light over the tufted leather booths, old black and white photos and newspaper clippings hang on the walls. The ambiance is good. The menu is even better.
Carl and Kenzie are sitting in a booth at the back of the restaurant. Carl has his phone out, no doubt showing off photos of his five-year-old twins doing something most five-year-olds do. Kenzie sips a blood-red cocktail and peruses her menu, and my limbs feel heavy as I walk toward the table. I don’t see anyone else, but there are still a few empty seats. Maybe everyone else is running late. Kenzie looks up and waves. She smiles as I slide into the booth next to her. For a moment our thighs brush, my dress pants against her tailored slacks, and then I shift to put some space between them.
A waiter in a slick white shirt and red tie stops by and I order a rum and coke. I tune out the conversation around me as Kenzie orders apps for the table. School break is coming up and Carl’s both jazzed about and terrified of the vacation his family is taking down to a theme park in Florida. Kenzie has gone every year since she was three. She now takes her niece.
There had been no budget for vacation in my family. Not with two hockey players and a figure skater who all needed gear, skates, ice time, coaches. Seasons had been grueling, and we spent the off-season conditioning. When I got sick, treatment had eaten up all the extra money and time. After he was signed, Vic started going on long vacations during the off seasons. He always took Mom and Anna with him. For years I had a standing invite but after repeated excuses they stopped asking.
I can’t remember the last time I went on a family vacation. I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere intending to spend time with my family. Even my most recent trip to Quarry Creek had been about a favor I could do for Vic, not about seeing him. Or my mother. I can’t remember the last time that bothered me. It does now.
Maybe this year I’ll invite myself. Just for a few days. Maybe I’ll book a flight out to Colorado to see Anna. Maybe it doesn’t have to be the off-season. Maybe I can just go back out to see Vic and Mom. Just for a few days.
Does Quinn ever go on vacation with her dad?
The waiter reappears with trays of cured meats, green and purple olives, yellow and green pepperoncini, an assortment of cheeses, artichoke hearts, and small marinated mushrooms. He also holds a basket with golden slices of crusty bread, steam still looping into the air. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and my stomach rumbles as Kenzie passes me one of the white ceramic plates.
“I guess it’s just us three,” she says. Her eyes won’t meet mine as she stares down at her drink. On her other side, Carl’s phone buzzes an intense staccato, shaking on the tabletop in its fury.
He stuffs a piece of prosciutto into his mouth as he picks up his phone. I try not to eavesdrop. I do, but Carl is at the same table and he isn’t a quiet person. From the side of the conversation I can hear, it’s pretty obvious that one twin is sick, and he’s needed at home stat.
“I’m sorry guys,” Carl fishes a handful of bills from his pocket and throws them down on the table. It’s more than his third of the food, but Carl grabs his briefcase and is out the door before I can return half the cash.
“Should we turn in?” I’m willing to throw some bills down too and call it a night. I have nothing else to do—going home means sitting in my living room alone with my cat—but I’m hoping Kenzie gives me the out.
“Or we could stay,” she offers. “No reason to waste the food when we’ve already ordered.”
It makes sense, especially when I consider the fact that I haven’t gone grocery shopping since flying home. My fridge might have some old orange juice, maybe a questionable yogurt, and a molding takeout container.
I could stay. Just to eat and talk to a colleague. Nothing weird about that. No reason to feel like I need to call and apologize to Quinn, as if I’m doing something inappropriate. This isn’t a date. Kenzie is a friend—well, a colleague—and it isn’t like either of us planned for Carl to leave. There’s no need for guilt either, because even if this were a date, Quinn and I aren’t even seeing each other. We’d had a memorable twenty-four hours, and that’s it.
I’m not twenty anymore. Mooning over some woman I just met isn’t the thing people my age do.
I nod at Kenzie and she beams back. Her mouth is painted a bright red, and she has a heavy line of dark makeup around her light blue eyes. Her lashes are thick and long, almost too full to look natural. In the dim light of the restaurant, the subtle sparkle over her eyelids shimmers. She is a gorgeous woman. I know that. The waiter knows that—his wandering eyes give him away each time he comes to the table.
Hell, even Carl, who’s fiercely in love with his wife and daughters, knows that Kenzie is beautiful. Her artfully applied makeup enhances the parts she wants enhanced, but the dark fringe of her eyelashes only makes me think of the copper shadow of Quinn’s. Kenzie’s blue eyes, made bigger and more dramatic with liner, only make me think of Quinn’s green eyes. No matter how beautiful the woman in front of me is, I can’t stop thinking only of Quinn.
If Quinn wears makeup for special occasions, I bet she uses bright and unusual colors. I bet she’s the type of person who draws little designs in her eye liner. Anna used to watch videos of people doing unique makeup looks involving flowers and butterflies and geometric designs. I couldn’t draw half the things they did on paper, let alone on someone’s face—definitely not on my own—but I bet Quinn can.
“Erik?” I’ve missed something. Kenzie is leaning into me, and I can see the faint smile lines around the corners of her eyes. She’s chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for me to respond.
“Sorry,” I try to tune back into her face and the conversation. I can spend hours focusing on what my patients have to say. I can get through one meal without my mind wandering off. “Can you repeat that?”
Kenzie’s face falls just the tiniest bit, but she asks about my trip once more.
“It was great.” I will not mention Quinn. “We made some good progress with Grace Hospital, and it was nice to see my brother.”
I’m surprised to find that I mean it. It had been nice to spend a whole evening watching British baking shows with my twin. It had also been fun to see Vic play in person. And not just because I got to meet…well, it had been fun for more than one reason.
“I hope you had a chance to relax.” Kenzie pops an olive into her mouth, holding her hand in front of her face as she chews. “Our line of work can be stressful on anyone, but your caseload is uniquely challenging.”
