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Hahaha. What?
“Cassie, how are you feeling tonight?” the producer asked, putting the microphone in front of me.
I looked at it for a second, clearing my throat. “Nervous. Excited …” I was seized by sudden inarticulateness. Doom crept up my body. I wrapped my hands around the microphone and pulled it in closer.
“We’re confident Cassie’s is exactly what Frenchmen Street needs right now. This place is warm, sexy, a place that combines the best of Southern home-cooking with a bit of grown-up glamour. Our menu puts a fresh nouveau spin on Southern hospitality. And our wine list is incredible. Half American, half French, just like the city itself.”
“And we’ll have live music from time to time,” Will added, his arm still draped around me.
After the producer thanked us and lowered her mike, the camera light flicked off and Will swiftly dropped his arm.
“Perfect! Cassie, you gave me the clip I needed,” said the producer. “Thank you both so much. I’m going to rush back to get this on the 1 a.m. roundup,” she said.
“No. Stay for one drink,” Will insisted. “Surely your crew can bring the tape back so you can stay for a toast.”
“Yeah!” I said, trying to muster the same enthusiasm as Will. “Stay for a drink!”
“Well, I suppose it is New Year’s Eve,” she said, taking off her glasses. She turned to her cameraman to instruct him to head back to the station without her.
“Great! Let me get you some champagne,” Will said. “And Cassie, I also insist on closing up. You don’t need to stay to the bitter end. You’ve been here since the morning.”
My heart sank even further. He could barely touch me during the interview and now he was trying to get rid of me so he could flirt with some sweet young producer girl.
“You sure you don’t mind?” I asked evenly.
“Absolutely not,” he said.
“Cool. Thanks,” I replied, backing away.
“You should be with your boyfriend on New Year’s Eve. The party’s winding down anyway.”
Was that hurt, anger or, worse, antipathy I noted in his voice? I didn’t stick around to find out. I left him with the cute producer and did one last painful circle of the room. Then I took out my phone and texted Jesse.
Leave your door open. I’m on my way.
Matilda once said the hallmark of adulthood is knowing when it’s time to leave. Suddenly, I felt all grown-up.
Jesse’s door was unlocked when I arrived. I eased it open, carefully removing my sparkly heels in the darkened foyer, throwing my coat across the back of an armchair. I quietly padded to Jesse’s bedroom, clutching my S.E.C.R.E.T. bracelet to my wrist to stop the tiny tinkling sound from traveling down the hall. I thought the light under his bedroom door meant he was still up. But alas, when I cracked it open, there Jesse was, fast asleep, his son Finn’s surprisingly long legs splayed across his thigh, both of them gently snoozing. I didn’t know kids, so I had nothing to measure him against, but he looked big for a six- or seven-year-old. It was a touching tableau, too touching to disturb, so I shut the door and tiptoed back to the foyer, grabbed my coat and threw it back on. Outside on the porch, I dug around for my cell and called back the taxi that had just dropped me off. I shivered on the steps waiting. That’s when I noticed another text, this one from Will.
Didn’t see you leave. It was a great night, Cassie. Thanks for being by my side on this. See you tomorrow. X W
My heart skipped at that stupid little X. I felt like an idiot teen, grabbing at any sign a boy liked me. What was I doing huddled on a dark porch in the middle of a cold night pining over an X? Because hard times are harder alone, but worse is having good things happen and no one with whom to celebrate. How nice it would have been to toast Will on New Year’s Eve, in our restaurant, after everyone had left: a couple of snifters of brandy, a kiss in silhouette—
“Hey.”
I jumped. It was Jesse, shirtless, loose pajama bottoms slung around his lean torso, his arms crossed tight around him.
“Sorry, babe. I fell asleep. Finn must have crawled in. Been trying to get him to break that habit.”
“It’s okay. Go inside, it’s cold. Cab’s turning around.”
“I’ll put him back in his bed,” he whispered, crouching to put his arms around me. His nose nuzzled my hair.
He gave a full-body shiver and I rubbed his forearms vigor
ously.
“He might wake up again,” I said. “I don’t want this to be how we meet. I didn’t even know his name until today. Finn. It’s cute. I like it.”
