“Maybe not,” Sam agreed. “But I did make coffee.” She handed Dallis the mug and went back to retrieve her own. She lifted Dallis’s feet and slid under them. Dallis shifted on the couch to make room for her but left her feet in Sam’s lap.
Dallis studied her. “Admit it,” she said after taking a long sip. “You don’t want to be my fish, do you?”
Sam looked over at Dallis, who was smiling behind her coffee cup. Sam smiled back. How did someone she just met seem to know her so well? “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I really don’t.” She paused and took a sip.
“Because of Alex,” Dallis stated, looking smug.
“Because of Alex.” Sam finally agreed, shaking her head. She paused and took a sip. “Now, can we please stop talking about fish?”
They sat there in silence, sipping their coffees. Sam’s thoughts raced through her head. Had she finally admitted to the elephant in the room? She and Alex. Really? After all these years. How would that even work? Was Alex even interested in her like that? Or was she just being friendly? Sam let out a sigh. Too many questions. Not enough coffee.
“So…” Dallis started, interrupting her thoughts. “What are we going to do about that?”
“What are we going to do about what?” Jordan asked. He pulled on a shirt as he made his way into the room, his hair sticking up. He stood at the edge of the couch and looked down at the two of them before reaching out to swipe Sam’s coffee cup from her hand. He took a drink and then grimaced, handing it back to her with a scowl. “How do you drink it like that?” He turned back to the kitchen to get another cup. “What are we doing about what?” he asked again over his shoulder.
“Alex,” Dallis chirped. She was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.
Sam sighed again and dropped her head back against the backof the couch. Handling Jordan was enough. But now she had to deal with two of them.
Jordan finished fixing his coffee and made his way back into the room. “I thinkthatis a question best answered over brunch,” Jordan stated, pointing at the two of them on the couch. “We need sustenance. I firmly believe in never making a decision on an empty stomach.”
Thirty minutes later, they were tucked into a tiny booth at a diner down the street from Jordan’s apartment. All three of them had giant steaming mugs of coffee on the table in front of them, but Jordan was also sipping on a Bloody Mary with enough accouterments to be brunch in and of itself. Both Sam and Dallis were staring at him with disgust.
“What?” he exclaimed indignantly. “Haven’t you ever heard the termhair of the dogand all that?”
“Yes, we have that phrase in Ireland,” Dallis replied. “In fact, we probably invented it, as much as we like to drink and all. But I don’t think they were referring to a dog the size of a mastiff when they said that.”
“How can you even drink that?” Sam chimed in. She hated Bloody Marys. She disliked most things made from tomatoes. “I mean, it’s tomato juice. And pickle juice. And spicy things. And vodka.” She counted each item on the fingers of one hand. “There is nothing about any of those that sounds remotely appetizing. Especially after last night.” She took a big sip of coffee, wincing because, once again, there was no maple syrup to be found.
“Haters gonna hate,” said Jordan, emphasizing his words with a giant slurp.
Dallis looked at Sam, and they both shook their heads in amusement. Jordan was quick to notice. “Great.” He threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration. “Now I have to defend myself tobothof you. As if one of you on your own wasn’t enough.”
“Funny,” Sam said, scratching her chin. “I’ve been thinking that same thing…”
“I am sure you both can handle it.” Dallis’s tone was wry. “But enough about you, Jordan. We’re here to talk about Sam and Alex.”
“You all, I’m fine,” Sam protested. “I’ll figure it out.”
Dallis opened her mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it and closed it again. She took a sip of her coffee, eyes on Sam. After setting the cup down on the table, she folded her hands in front of her and waited. Jordan took her cue, and after one last slurp of his Bloody, he popped a stack of olives in his mouth and then pushed the glass off to the side. He, too, leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him, completing the pose by placing his chin on top.
It didn’t take Sam long to feel the weight of their combined gaze and then to crack under the pressure. “What?” she asked. “What are you two staring at?”
“You, mo chroí, we are staring at you,” Dallis replied.
“Yes, mocha, it’s you,” Jordan chimed in as Dallis slugged him on the arm.
“Mo chroí, Jordan. Not mocha,” she chided, slowly enunciating the word. She shook her head. “It meansmy heartin Gaelic.”
“How come in the nine months I’ve known you, you’ve never called me anything nice, but you know Sam for nine hours, and she gets endearments?”
“You’re wrong. I call you a right pain in the arse all the time.” Dallis looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “So does that question really need an answer?”
Thankfully, she was saved from answering by the waiter unloading their food. Plate after plate of greasy fried diner goodness was placed before them. Sam grabbed the maple syrup, fake though it was, and added it to her coffee, taking another giant slug and sighing with contentment. She added the same amount of syrup to her chocolate chip pancakes and lifted each of them to add a layer of crispy bacon between them. A small side of french fries completed the meal.
Jordan paused from shoveling huevos rancheros into his mouth to watch what she was doing. “Okay, you’re making fun of my Bloody Mary, but you eat your pancakes like that?”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. This is my favoritehangover breakfast combo, and you can find it at nearly any diner anywhere.”
