“Ma’am, this is a family establishment.” He crosses his arms and scowls.
The little girl starts crying, the parents are yelling at the server about the conversation they’re going to have to have with their child, and the entire restaurant pauses their meal to watch the drama unfold.
The server leans on the table. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Pickleball Guy approaches. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! I’m just so wet,” I say, gesturing at my pants.
His brows raise in excitement.
“I mean, I wet my pants!”
His brows lower in disgust.
“Can we just get out of here, please?” I ask, clutching the wet napkins to my very see-through white pants.
Pickleball Guy glances around him and notes all the people staring, becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. “You know, on second thought, I’ll call you.” Before I can object, he turns on his heel and leaves me alone in the restaurant with nothing but soaked pants and a year’s worth of embarrassment.
“Ma’am, you have to go,” the server demands. This time, the bartender is behind him, arms crossed and domineering, as if I’m going to put up a fight.
“Yes. Okay...” I begin to stand, unable to hide my shame any longer.
Lex appears at my side, blocking everyone’s view of me with her jacket. Her eyes meet mine, those sharp blues of her communicating a single phrase:I got you.I stand behind her jacket and Lex wastes no time wrapping it around my waist and tying the arms over the apex of my thighs to hide my bright purple panties from view.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Lex tosses a twenty on the table, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and escorts me from the building. Out on the curb, she releases me and we take a tentative step away from each other.
“Thanks,” I say, wishing that simple word could properly encompass the entirety of my gratitude for her quick thinking. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Lex shoulders her bag and tucks her hands into her pockets. “I know.”
“I should probably call an Uber,” I mumble to myself as I retrieve my phone from my purse.
“I’ll wait with you.”
“You really don’t need to.” Standing around making small talk is exactly the cherry I’d expect on top of this disastrous outing.
She points at me. “Just waiting on my jacket.”
I look down at myself. “Oh. Right.”
Lex hugs herself against the breeze, crisp with the threat of early-June rain, and scuffs the toe of her clunky boot on the sidewalk.
“Five minutes.” I show her my phone. “You can wait inside if you’re cold. Or, you know, if you have someone waiting for you in there.”
“I wasn’t waiting for anyone.”
My eyes narrow. “You were sitting in there all by yourself reading fairy smut?”
Once more, those piercing eyes of hers pin me in place. “When you’re recently divorced and it’s his weekend with the kid and you’d rather be out doing anything, instead of being stuck at home because you haven’t been alone like that in almost ten years, then, yeah, going to a pub to read fairy smut becomes a logical choice.”
“Oh.” My face warms, and I’m embarrassed I offended her. I have no idea how to reply. “Sorry to hear about that. The divorce and the kid thing. Sounds awful.”
Lex just stares at me.
For someone who’s never smoked a day in her life, I sure am craving a cigarette right now—anything to take the edge off this conversation. “Olsen wasn’t home?” As soon as I ask the question, I regret it.
“He’s at the hospital.”
