But even as they agreed that Brad would call her to make arrangements, she remained deeply skeptical that this could work.
Chapter 17
Lindsay sipped coffee at home and checked her email. Fred meandered over and settled on her lap. “What kind of food do you like, Mr. Astaire? I saw you eyeing my sushi takeout last night. Should I review more sushi places?” Fred let out a happy littlebrrupin response.
Erica had sent a list of new restaurants theForumhoped to review, so Lindsay did a little research on each one and decided on assignments for the various freelancers who reported to her. For herself, she decided on a new restaurant on Vanderbilt Avenue near her apartment, for convenience.
She picked Thursday night to dine at this place—she preferred weeknights to avoid the weekend/date-night crowds—and hoped to get the review done while the restaurant still had some novelty. Then she texted each of her friends to invite them to join her.
And then the replies came.
Lauren:Caleb is working the night shift Thurs so I’ll be home with Hannah.
Paige:Book club at the café Thursday night, so I’m closing at 8.
Evan:I’ve got a work meeting in Manhattan that will prob go late. Sorry, honey.
Well, that figured. Thursday was two days away, too late for anyone to change their plans. She supposed she could go eat by herself. Bring a book, catch up on her reading.
Then Brad popped into her head.
He’d asked her for a date, hadn’t he?
She picked up her phone. He’d be at work now, but he could probably answer a text.
She said,I’m reviewing a new restaurant in Prospect Heights Thurs night. You free?
The reply was a few minutes coming, but Lindsay knew better than to interpret that as hesitancy. This time of the morning, Brad was probably taking bread out of the ovens.
But rather than say yes, Brad replied,What kind of food?
Lindsay laughed. That seemed on-brand. Just like a foodie to think about the cuisine first and the company second. She wasn’t even offended, because she probably would have had the same response.Upscale pub food. New restaurant owned by a British chef. Menu is fancy takes on shepherd’s pie and fish & chips, etc.
Lindsay was actually looking forward to trying this menu. There’d been a pub near the culinary school where Lindsay and her classmates had hung out after class all the time. The waitstaff all had Irish accents and the menu contained dishes like bangers and mash and a full Irish breakfast. The restaurant was still there, but Lindsay hardly ever went to that neighborhood anymore and she missed it. She wondered if upscale takes on the same kind of food would be delicious or pretentious—it could go either way.
And, okay, if it was pretentious, mocking it with Brad might even be fun.
Brad responded,Sounds good. Gotta keep an eye on the ovens now, but text where/when and I’ll be there.
Lindsay considered telling him he’d been her backup choice and this was not a date, but thought better of it. Instead, she texted the restaurant address and told him to meet her there at six. He texted back a thumbs-up emoji.
She hadn’t said it wasn’t a date. She hadn’t said itwas, either. Would Brad think this was a date or just one friend inviting the other to the restaurant she was reviewing?
She sat back in her desk chair. Was she really doing this? Was she really going to go on a date with Brad?
Her friends were right. She’d never really gotten over him. She’d told herself she had, but she avoided places he’d be, she followed what he was up to, and she still had photos of him on her phone despite their breakup being five years past. She knew deep down that he was a good guy. He was hot, he was talented, and he was caring. And for a year, he’d made her happy.
But Lindsay was very skittish about getting her heart broken again.
Or at all; that was what had made her run the first time.
They’d been out somewhere about three months before their graduation from culinary school. Lindsay couldn’t remember where, probably the High Line. One of Brad’s favorite leisure activities was getting lobster rolls from a seafood store in Chelsea Market and then walking up to the High Line to eat them outside and people watch.
It had been one of those cool spring days that nobody knew how to dress for, before the warm weather really arrived. As Brad dug into his lobster roll and Lindsay tasted some excellent tuna salad, she commented that although it was still too cool for the guy who rollerbladed by them in shorts, it was definitely too warm for the woman bundled up in a puffy coat with a hat and gloves to be wearing that many layers.
“Judgy of you to point that out, Goldilocks,” said Brad.
“I’m just saying.”
