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“How much time do you have until you’re expected back at the office?” She asks, stroking my arm for a few seconds to get my attention.
Staring down at Regan, I pull her against my side, hooking my arm around her. “I have enough time to eat and run. If I didn’t have to go dress shopping again, I would’ve had more time, but Charlie wanted me to be there.”
“Did she find a dress yet? I’m surprised it has taken her this long. Coach seems so low maintenance.”
“I’m kinda surprised how crazy she’s getting about this wedding, too. I never thought I’d see Charlie, of all people, go into bride mode.”
“Maybe it’s the venue.” She leans on the counter to check out the menu. “You know, I didn't think when I’d offered it to her as an option for the wedding. I wasn’t even sure if I could come through for her, but when I got the go-ahead from management, and she said yes, I thought it would be cool to have a wedding at the Wells.”
“It’s not your fault. Alex wants this big wedding, though I’m not so sure why when he doesn’t have any family to invite and neither does Charlie. If she didn’t have her players and Alex’s friends to invite, we wouldn’t have enough people to fill her apartment.”
“Then, why doesn’t she consider another location? Maybe something smaller. I know Alex can afford to pay to rent out the Wells, but that’s a helluva lot of money to shell out when they have no one special to invite.”
“I’ve mentioned it to her a few times,” I say, edging closer to where we will place our order. “She doesn’t listen to anything I say. I’m hoping at some point it will all sink in, especially with Alex on the road for the playoffs.”
Regan’s face lights up. “I’m really impressed how they’re playing right now. My dad stopped by my office before I left to meet you, and he was the happiest I’d seen him in a long time. I hope they make it past this round. This city really needs a win.”
“Charlie is planning to go to their next home game.”
“You should come with her,” she says, hopeful. “And if you don’t have a ticket, I can get you one.”
“If you’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Are you ready to order or what?” A guy asks us in a thick South Philly accent.
Startled, I spin around to face him. I point to Regan after I’m done, and she orders a sausage and peppers sandwich, which doesn’t shock me one bit. Most girls would eat something less…messy. But that’s the kind of sandwich Charlie would get, so it’s no surprise that Regan does the same. They have so many similarities, yet so many differences. That’s why I feel so comfortable around Regan.
“It’s been ages since my dad has had the time to come here with me.” Regan grazes her hand against mine. “When I first moved to Philly, we’d come here all the time if he could peel himself away. But now, I see him once a week, sometimes, once a month, if I’m lucky, and we work in the same building.”
Her voice trails off along with the conversation. I don’t have parents or remember what it was like to have them. That part of my life is such a faint memory at this point. All I can recall are empty bottles of alcohol, overfilled ashtrays stuffed with cigarettes and cigars, red-and-blue flashing lights, and the first foster home that followed all of the drama. Everything else I have blocked from memory.
Once we get our food, Regan rolls her eyes at the small seating area, annoyed. “Where are we going to eat?”
I peek at the lack of seating and sigh. “Did you drive here?”
“No, I wish. If I had, we could eat in my car.”
Shrugging my suit jacket off my shoulders, I lay it on my forearm, grab our sandwiches from the counter after I pay, and steer Regan toward the sidewalk.
“I have an idea,” I announce, even though I’m not so sure it’s such a great one. But we have no other options.
Dropping my jacket to the ground, right at the edge of the curb, I flatten it out to give Regan enough room to sit down. “There, all better. I know this isn’t The Palm or whatever you’re probably used to, but this will have to do for now.”
She laughs. “The Palm? Jameson, you have me figured all wrong if you think I’m that kind of girl.”
“Well, I have to assume that your dad is not taking you to Denny’s for lunch, and The Palm was the first swanky restaurant that had come to mind.”
“That’s not even that fancy,” she says, plopping down on the ground.
“Oh, excuse me, rich girl,” I say, mocking her.
She laughs, not the least bit phased by my joke.
I take a seat next to her and hand over the sausage and peppers sandwich. We open the paper and place the food in our laps, balancing it on our thighs. This wasn’t the date I had in mind when I’d asked Regan to meet me here. In fact, I’m a little embarrassed that this turned out to be such a fail. But she doesn’t seem to mind that we’re sitting on the curb, the exhaust fumes billowing around our heads as cars pass.
Eating half the cheesesteak in a few bites, I have grease sliding out from the corner of my mouth. I attempt to wipe it with a napkin before Regan notices. Too bad she’s already looking over at me, as I clean my face.
“You missed a spot.” Regan leans over, and with her napkin, she wipes the rest from the corner of my mouth.
