“That’s fine,” I said. “We can order and get it to go.” I looked at Rosalie. “Is that OK?”
She nodded.
The waitress glanced at her and did a double-take.
“Holy shit. You’re Bishop.” She gaped at her.
“Uh, yeah.” Rosalie gave her an awkward smile.
“We’re out for dinner after her show,” I explained, jumping in because I knew her nervous tells. “We’d like to just have some pizza and not have others know we’re here if that’s OK.”
“You’re not Anson,” the waitress said, narrowing her eyes at me.
“I’m not. I’m head of her security tonight.” My voice took on a no-nonsense tone.
“Ooh, OK.” The waitress nodded quickly. “We can definitely stay open if you want to eat here?—”
“Oh, no, that’s OK.” Rosalie said, waving off her offer. “I don’t want to do that to you. It’s late. You should go home and rest. I used to wait tables, so I know how bad your feet can kill.”
She nodded at her. “But we can stay open?—”
“We’ll just order and go. Thank you for the offer,” I said, checking her name tag. “Chelsea.”
She beamed at me. “OK. Um, yeah. Take your time. Our menu is right here?—”
“We will have a large pie, all vegetables, and an order of breadsticks,” I said immediately, remembering Rosalie’s pizza order.
“OK. OK. Sure.” She scribbled it down quickly.
“To go,” I reiterated.
Chelsea nodded before babbling about hurrying with our order. She rushed away, leaving me with Rosalie.
“It’s always like that, huh?” I asked.
She nodded. “Ani usually handles it. I can get tongue-tied when I’m in public.”
I smiled at her sweetness. She definitely hadn’t changed in that respect. Knowing we’d been replaced hurt like hell, but she deserved to find happiness. It sucked, though, for various reasons I didn’t want to think about.
“No worries. I got you tonight.”
She breathed out and swallowed. “Um, so how are you?”
“I’m well. How are you?”
“I-I’m good. Tired.”
“Your show was incredible. I was blown away. You’re magic on stage, Rosalie. Truly meant to be there.”
Her cheeks stained red at my compliment, much to my delight. “Thank you.”
“Although hearing you hate on me can get tough. How many times have you killed me with your lyrics?” I mused.
She widened her eyes at me. “I-It’s not like tha?—”
I chuckled. “I’m messing with you. I deserve the heat. I was a fucking mess back then.”
“You don’t seem like a mess now,” she ventured.
