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“You two haven’t touched your spaghetti,” Conor said pointedly just as Aurnia’s phone rang once more.
She excused herself again.
Conor waited till she was out of earshot to hiss, “Hands above the table!”
I shoved Mason’s hands away and he shoved mine away and we both pouted silently as we picked at our plates. Forks screeching horribly. Tomato sauce flying. Teeth biting roughly.
“Jesus Christ,” Conor sighed, drawing his hands over his face, pushing the loose strands from his bun up out of his eyes. “I can’t tell if you two are going to murder each other or fuck.”
“Murder each other,” Mason and I both said.
“This was a bad idea,” Mason added. “The mess between the two of us is already bad enough without Aurnia getting all these crazy dreams about ‘saving’ us.”
Conor practically snatched his new glass of whiskey from the waiter. “Yeah, about that. I should warn you that—”
“Sorry! Sorry!” Aurnia said, kissing Conor on the cheek as she retook her seat. “Everything’s ready now— I mean, good now. How’s everyone liking the food?”
The tenting of Mason’s pants distracted me as I smiled at Aurnia. I blocked it from view by unhooking my hair from behind my ear.
“The food is perfect, hun,” I said. “It’s wonderful and delicious and probably the best food Mason has ever had, and he’s probably going to throw it all away before the night’s over.”
I think we were all rather stunned when Mason stood abruptly. Half the wine glasses were knocked over. The plates jerked so violently that half the food went onto the tablecloth. It silenced the restaurant. We were all stunned, but I think no one more than Mason himself.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m going to wait in the car.”
I should have kept my mouth shut. But I was mad. Embarrassed maybe. Uncomfortable that I’d probably taken it too far.
It was a mistake to mutter, “Told you so.”
It was my fault that Mason backhanded the bottle of wine as he stormed past. That it shattered and fell. That there was no saving this night. I exhaled shakily and returned to my pasta as the restaurant stared.
“Um,” Aurnia whispered, wincing as the chair she scooted back made a horrible noise in the horribly awkward silence. “I think I need to go make a call.”
I forced myself to chew the meatballs. To not look up. To act like everything was fine. Just fucking fine.
I only heard Conor say to the waiter, “We’ll need some ‘takeaway’ boxes.”
Heard him sigh.
Heard him mutter across to me, “She’s young.”
I was once, too. A long time ago, it seemed. A long time ago.
