“No,” I said emphatically, eliciting a smile from him.
“Too bad. It was going to be a thrilling monologue.” He smirked. “Despite what you think, I hope you don’t get destroyed trying to work things out with Mae.”
“Thanks. But that might be the worst pep talk in history.”
Hopefully, it wasn’t a sign of things to come.
40
MAE
I looked around at the brick interior and barnyard wall accents, feeling like I’d left Cedar Falls. Beck said The Grapevine Bistro and Bar was one of the best new lakeside places to hit our town in years, and I had to agree. It definitely had a vibe, and I could easily become a regular at this place.
Looking at the door for the millionth time, there was no sign of Beck.
I couldn’t wait to tell him what I’d been up to. As he walked in, I remembered him saying once, “Don’t walk into a place as if you work there. Walk in as if you own it.” That’s exactly what he did now. Confident, but not overly so, he strode toward me. With every step, my body reminded me in little ways about last night.
About our kiss.
Reminded me this was no longer just my friend. Brakes or not, we’d begun to become much more than that, and denying it was silly.
“What’s cooking, good looking?” he asked, sitting across from me.
We’d snagged a window seat, and though there was a deck, it was closed. The wind made it too chilly to sit outside. May in the Finger Lakes was like that. One day, it felt like summer. The next, I was cursing myself for not wearing a jacket.
“Something yummy. I think it’s the steak behind me.”
“Steak for lunch.” He leaned over to see. “My kind of guy.”
“Welcome to The Grapevine,” our college-aged waitress said. She was pretty. Young. And into Beck. Her smile was bigger for him than it had been for me, and she looked at him like, well, she’d be more than happy to jump his bones.
Not that I blamed her.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“A Coke, please,” he said. “Any lunch special today?”
While she rattled them off, I watched the exchange. He wasn’t flirting, precisely, but Beck couldn’t turn off the charm. It was ingrained from years of being fawned over. No doubt, by the time our meal was over, she’d be slipping her number to him on a napkin. Never mind I could be his girlfriend.
“I’ll get your drinks while you look at the menu,” she said to Beck.
“I might as well be invisible,” I teased.
“Not to me.”
He said it with a smile on his face, but Beck wasn’t teasing me back. He was serious, and it occurred to me that I must have been blind all these years to miss the signs. Granted, we’d been separated in college, and then again while I was in Paris. But still.
“We have a lot to talk about.” I took a sip of my diet soda, looking over the glass at him.
“Agreed.”
Much too soon, the waitress was back. I had a feeling we were going to get excellent—maybe too excellent—customer service on this lunch. We ordered just as a boat cruised by.
“I think that’s the Sunset Cruise. Its owner is married to Marco Grado. I met her for the first time at the girls’ night.”
“You never did tell me about that.”
He was looking at me so intently. Beck had that way about him, always making you feel like you were the center of the universe when he looked at you.
