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“It’s a hard pass, bro.”
“Ba dum bum.”
“How much more do we have to work on? I’m fucking starving.”
“I’ll order in some lunch. You’ve got an interview in an hour, remember?”
I nod. “I had kind of forgotten about that, but okay. Lunch would be good. Maybe pasta, I need some carbs.”
“Need the energy for your date?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t suggest that dick hardening shit again.”
He puts up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not. Just an old married guy, with three young kids, living vicariously through you.”
I laugh. “Not getting much sleep?”
“Not with three-month-old twins in the house, man. Laura’s idea of a hot Friday night these days is a shower and an early bedtime.”
“I get it man. The tiny terrorists can wear your ass out like nothing else.”
Denny nods. “They’re the bosses now. But it’s good, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. I didn’t want kids for at least another ten years, but I can’t imagine life without those rugrats now. I miss them already.”
“Have fun tonight, though,” Denny says. “You deserve it.”
“Thanks, man. I plan to.”* * *I get to the Waldorf bar a little early and order a beer, a glass of red wine for Abby, and a couple different appetizers for us to share.
She likes to be the one taking care of the details. Setting up the plans. But I want her to know it’s okay to let me handle that stuff, too. Maybe even good on a day she’s been busy with work and I’ve been mostly taking it easy.
After my meeting and interview, I did some shopping, picking up gifts for the kids and ordering a few things from a furniture store downtown. I’m not used to having down time for myself like that, and it felt kind of strange.
Overall, though, it was nice. I had lots of time to anticipate my evening with Abby. By the time I see her walking across the hotel lobby toward me, nervous excitement is pumping through my veins.
She’s wearing a simple, sleeveless blue dress that shows off her toned arms. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, just the way I like it.
“Hey, you look great,” I say as I get up from my seat to kiss her.
“Thanks, you too.”
She does look great. If I were seeing Abby for the first time, I’d think this blond, blue-eyed beauty had it all going on. But seeing her now compared to the Abby I met at the Palmer House, I feel a little concerned.
Since I last saw her a month ago, she’s lost some weight, and she didn’t have much to spare. She also looks tired—makeup and caffeine hide the circles under her eyes and keep her going, but I can tell she’s still not getting enough sleep.
That’s not really my concern. She’s just my casual hookup. Still, I suddenly feel more like taking Abby out for a good dinner and seeing that she gets to bed at a decent hour than fucking her brains out.
“Everything okay?” she asks, seeming to sense my concern.
“Yeah…hey, are you hungry?”
“I am.” The bartender sets down our appetizers and Abby reaches for an oyster as soon as she sits down. “Thanks for ordering, this is great.”
“My agent got me a reservation at a new place not far from here. You feel like getting dinner?”
The corners of her lips curve up in a smile. “That sounds an awful lot like a date, Luca.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. I’m being completely selfish, actually. Just want to make sure you can keep your strength up later.”
“I’m never gonna live down that night I was tired, am I?”
“Let’s just have a nice dinner. It’ll be good, I promise.”
Abby’s brow furrows with concern. “I don’t want to go to a high-profile place where I might be recognized.”
“Recognized?”
“I mean, where you might be recognized and someone could take photos of us together. It could get out that we’re dating.”
I nod, amused. “And then you’d have to demand a correction from any publication that reported that. Make them say we’re only fucking.”
“Right.” She laughs lightly and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “So let’s avoid that. Room service, maybe?”
I shake my head. “I’m taking you out for dinner, Abby.”
She takes a long drink of her wine before saying, “How about pizza? I know a great little place.”
“Sounds great, I love pizza.”
As we make small talk over our drinks and the appetizers, Abby starts to relax. She tells me general stuff about work—a big project is going well and a lady she works with went into labor at the office yesterday—and about her morning workouts with a trainer.
“Trainer slash sadist, actually,” she clarifies.
“I had a conditioning coach like that once. He said puking during a workout was good for us.”
“Ugh, it’s the worst.”
“My teammate once threw up in that coach’s gym bag when he wasn’t in the locker room. He just zipped it up and left it for him to find later.”
