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“I’m sure you’ll let it all out at work tomorrow.”
“Mmmm. Like I can do that.”
“You can say whatever you want to me at work. There, I can’t do a damn thing about it.”
What the hell did that mean? “And what are you gonna do if I pulled you outside now and told you exactly what I think about this impromptu little dinner meeting?”
“I’d push you against the wall and shut you up with my mouth on yours.”
His answer was so nonchalant, so flat, that it was hard to tell if he really meant that. It was always the same, whenever he went across the line, it was almost as if he disconnected himself from it.
Well, no thank you.
I’d had enough disconnection in my life.
“This is ridiculous. As soon as our food arrives and Lola’s done, we’re leaving. This was a terrible idea,” I finished on a mutter, scooting my chair over a few inches.
“They’re friends, Perrie. You don’t have to like it, but you have to humor them.”
“I don’t have to do anything unless I want to where my daughter is concerned.” My voice had an edge—the same edge that had annoyance trickling through my veins.
Who was he to tell me that I had to humor my daughter’s friendship with his son? He had no right to do that, just like I didn’t have to humor this strange little comradery they’d struck up.
I mean, Jesus Christ. I didn’t want any of this. I never had any intention for my daughter to meet his son, yet life had gotten in the way. And right now? Right now, I shouldn’t have been at Polka’s having this conversation. It never should have gone this far.
What I should have done was put my foot down and told Lola no. That we weren’t having dinner with them. That this wasn’t going to happen.
Working with Adrian on a regular basis was hard enough.
I didn’t need to see him in my down time, too.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Like what?” I snapped. “That I have to like the fact I was tricked into this dinner tonight?”
“You think I want to be here anymore than you do?”
“You’re not showing me otherwise.”
His jaw set, his eyes hardening as he shifted in his seat. “I’m here because Zac begged me to see Lola. He has a ton of other friends, but he wanted her.”
“Then next time, do me a favor and convince him to hang out with someone else, all right?”
“Not as long as he feels like he has a friend with Lola. You think their like of each other is built on Minecraft?”
“I don’t know, but if I hear one more thing about that damn game I’m going to throw myself out of a window.”
“I agree with you there.” He inclined his head, but he followed it up by sighing and running his hand through his hair, turning away from me. “Zac talked about his mom for the first time in a long time this afternoon.”
I didn’t speak. All I knew about her was that she was dead, because Zac had so very brutally said so yesterday.
“He likes Lola because she’s like him. She only has one parent. The other is dead. She’s a kindred spirit for him.”
I dropped my eyes to my lap. There, I fidgeted, clicking my thumb nails against the other.
I hadn’t thought of that.
Why would I? They’d spent mere hours in each other’s presence. Lola knew next to nothing about her dad, nor had she ever asked me what had really happened to him. I don’t think she truly understood, and maybe that’s what I hadn’t pushed it.
Did she want to know?
“I still don’t appreciate being tricked into this,” I said, this time much quieter than I was a moment ago. “And Lola never said any of this to me.”
“I didn’t expect she would. Zac told me she never asks you because she’s afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
“Making you cry.”
I shook my head and looked up at the play area. “I’ll never cry over him. He doesn’t deserve the tears of me or her. Excuse me.” I stood. “If our food comes over, will you tell Lola I’m in the restroom?”
Adrian stared at me for a moment, his eyes questioning. “Of course.”
“Will you watch my purse?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you.” I pushed away from the table and made my way through the throng of tables and peoples, of servers and food and drinks, of happiness and brightness.
The ladies restroom was mercifully quiet. Almost as if they had soundproof doors on the things. I welcomed the silence as it wrapped around me as I stood in front of the sinks.
Glancing up, I looked at myself in the mirror.
I looked like a stranger.
One hour from call to restaurant. I’d barely had time to shower and get ready, let alone do a full face of make-up or make myself look like the Perrie the world knew. No, here I was, with hair that was wavy and barely-blow dried. Eyelashes all but void of mascara. The tiniest hint of freckles dancing across my cheeks where there was no thick make-up to hide them.
