“Brad is trying to win Lindsay back,” said Aaron.
Sam laughed. “I saw her byline on that profile of you in theForum. That surprised the hell out of me.”
Brad gave Sam the short version of the story of how Lindsay had come back into his life. He’d been hoping for a distraction tonight, though. He spent enough time thinking about Lindsay; dinner with friends should have been a distraction.
“This feels like a lot of work,” said Sam. “Winning her over again, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Aaron agreed. “Bianca and I went on a date and figured out that we liked each other and have been together ever since. Not that it’s all been smooth sailing, but I never had to convince her to be with me.”
“You had to convince her a little,” said Sam. “I’m sure the TV executive job title helped smooth the way, but you had to talk her into taking your skinny ass home the first time.”
“Wasn’t that hard. I’m very charming.”
“You ask that girl to marry you yet?” asked Brad, hoping to deflect attention from himself.
“No, but I, uh, bought a ring.”
“Are you kidding?” said Sam.
“No, I’m dead serious. We’re going to wrap filming for the first season ofMystery Mealat the end of next week. Then I get a week off and I’m taking Bianca to Florence because she’s always wanted to go there. I figured we could eat our way through the city and look at art and I’d find some romantic spot to pop the question.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You think she’ll say yes?”
Aaron frowned. “I did right until you asked me.”
“She probably suspects anyway,” said Sam. “Justin has a friend who took his girlfriend to Paris, and Justin explained to me that you only take your significant other to Europe if you’re going to propose. This friend reasoned they would either come back engaged or broken up. He proposed in front of the Eiffel Tower, though, which is so clichéd.”
“Didn’t Justin propose to you on the observation deck of the Empire State Building?” asked Brad.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, but during Pride when it was lit up like a rainbow, with a great view of this wonderful city spread out before us.”
“There’s a nuance here I’m not seeing,” Brad stage-whispered to Aaron.
“Maybe what Lindsay needs is a grand romantic gesture,” said Sam.
“Like what?”
Sam shrugged. “You’re a smart guy. You’ll think of something.”
When their entrées arrived, Brad mulled over what he could do to impress Lindsay. Not take her to a dinner like this. The steak was cooked well but underseasoned, and the flatbread that Sam had ordered looked a little sad.
“Ah, Restaurant Week,” Sam said, picking a piece of red onion off his pizza and tossing it in his mouth. “Food for the masses.”
“All right, all right,” said Aaron. “Point taken. We’ll go somewhere better next time.”
“Justin and I ate at this Vietnamese place on Seventy-Seventh last week that was delicious. They have the standard dishes plus a couple of creative things. The chef is first-generation American but went to culinary school in Paris, so it’s Vietnamese flavors with Western techniques. And she makes her own fish sauce, which is the salty kick you want with Vietnamese food.”
“You’re saying we should go there next month?” said Aaron.
“Yes. Especially since I can see the wheels turning in your head. You want to get this chef for your show, don’t you?”
Aaron shrugged. “I love Vietnamese. That place on University got a new chef and they’re not as good anymore so I’ve been looking for a new place.”
“How do you know all this?” Brad asked. “Did you interview the chef?”
“I asked to talk to her when we ate there. I laid it on thick with the waiter and mentioned I was also a chef. The restaurant’s chef came out to the table and we chatted for a bit.”
Aaron laughed. “We’re all insufferable foodies. There are tourists in this restaurant right now who will go home and tell their friends this was the best meal they ever ate, and here we are whining at the lack of options.”
