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She’s cryptic, but the more she says—ordoesn’tsay—the more curious I become.
“We can talk in my office,” I say and I let her follow me through the dining room and toward the back where my office door opens next to the kitchen. When I close the door, she turns to me. She looks stiff and nervous, now.
“You don’t know me, Mr. Gill,” she says. “My name is Dianne. I’m a…a friend of Natalie’s.”
When she says Natalie’s name, my heart thumps.
“Has something happened?” I ask.
Dianne shakes her head. “No, nothing’s happened. I shouldn’t really be talking to you but I have to know…are you serious about her?”
“What?”
“I know it’s not my place to ask. But I don’t believe ending this is right, and I want to find out if you’re as serious about her. Because if you are…I can’t let this go. I can’t see something beautiful turn to dust.”
I shake my head. “What did she say?”
Dianne purses her lips, clearly deciding how much she wants to tell me. I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m blindsided by her being here. I want to be irritated that someone else is sticking their nose in this.
But I miss Natalie so much, it hurts. Especially tonight.
And if there’s a chance…
“How do I know she wants to do this again?” I ask.
“Have you asked her?”
I don’t answer because, of course, my pride stopped me from doing that.
Dianne nods. “I didn’t think you did. And even if you do, she might still stand her ground. She’s stubborn. She’s determined to continue without you.”
“That doesn’t sound very promising,” I point out.
“I think she’s wrong.”
I stare at this woman who came out of nowhere.
“What makes you think she’s wrong?” I ask carefully. “If she doesn’t want to be with me—”
“Talk to her,” Dianne says. “I can’t tell you more than that. I’m already doing something that goes against everything I believe in. But I know that this isn’t meant to be over. And in all my years of — knowing her, I’ve never seen someone come back to life the way she did when she met you. I know it’s wrong of me to be here, to ask you this at all, but if you care about her the way she cares about you, don’t give up on her.”
What has Natalie said about me that makes this woman things she cares at all? I don’t know how to feel about this. I don’t know how to respond.
“Here,” she says and fishes in her handbag. She produces a card. When I take it, it’s to a venue. “This is where she’ll be tomorrow night. If you want to know what this business with Sam was about, that’s where the event is taking place.”
“What event?” I asked.
She doesn’t answer me. “I’ll leave you to get back to your restaurant now. Thank you for seeing me.” She walks to the door but stops before exiting my office. “The place is incredible, by the way.” She offers me a smile and leaves, and I’m left behind in the wake of her destruction.
How can she do this to me? How can she tell me Natalie cares, but she doesn’t want to do this with me? How can she tell me I should go see her but not tell me anything else? It’s cryptic, and I don’t like it.
I tear the card in half and drop it into the wastepaper basket before I leave my office to keep an eye on my dining room again, to schmooze with the guests, and to put on a face for the press.
I’ll just push this down like everything else to do with Natalie. It’s easier to forget about the whole thing than try to pull it apart.
Well, Ithoughtit would be easier. But I can’t seem to put her out of my mind, no matter who I talk to, what I do, and how busy the evening is.
Damn it, I can’t stop thinking about her at all.
