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“You don’t look like a Mr. Torres to me.”
“That’s because I’m not.” I squint through the screen door at the guy on my step. He’s flicking through a sheaf of papers tacked to a clipboard and behind him in the driveway I see a dirty truck with a construction company logo on it. Right. Leon had reminded me that this guy was going to stop by this week. “You must be here to give us an estimate on the pergola.”
“Yep. So is Mr. Torres around?”
“No, he’s not,” I say without thinking. “He, uh, had to step out.”
“Oh yeah?” The guy throws one arm up on the doorframe and leans closer in to the screen separating us.
An uncomfortable sensation crawls up my back. This is another reason I don’t like it when Leon travels so much. Sometimes I just don’t feel a hundred percent safe on my own in a large city.
And there’s no way I’m letting this guy into my house. Not while Leon is still out of town.
I make a noncommittal noise. “Anyhow, I’m on my way out too. Just let yourself into the backyard, take your measurements, and leave the estimate in the mailbox. We’ll get back to you.”
I plaster on a fake smile and close the door before he can say anything more. I run to the patio doors, pulling them shut and locking them just as I see the contractor round the corner. I quickly pull the drapes closed before he sees me standing there.
I check my watch and decide I’ll head out early for my lunch with Rose and Evan.
* * *
“There you guys are!”I say, standing up from the restaurant booth and planting a kiss on Rose’s cheek before turning to Evan and giving him a hug. Every time I see the two of them, I’m thrilled all over again that my best friend and brother are a couple. Rose and Evan had a love connection on Leon’s and my wedding day, and now it’stheirturn to get married.
“Here, Rose,” I say, pushing my glass toward her as the three of us sit down. “You’ve got to try this Moroccan Mojito. Green tea, mint, a little rosewater—it’s delicious.”
With the creepy contractor and my worries about the state of my marriage, I had decided a drink was in order.
“Mmm,” says Rose, swallowing a sip and setting the drink back in front of me. “You’re right.Yum.”
Rose and Evan are tying the knot in just a few months, and we’re supposed to be discussing their wedding plans over this lunch, but as the meal progresses I can’t get Leon off my mind. He and I have been talking every night on the phone while he’s out of town, but it’s still not the same as being together in person. How long can we really keep this up?
I try to push down my worries and pay attention to my soon-to-be sister-in-law.
“…as a possibility for the buffet,” Rose is saying.
“Buffet?” I must have missed something, lost in my thoughts.
Evan raises an eyebrow at me. “Everything okay, sis?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I just shouldn’t have had that drink on an empty stomach. What were you saying about a buffet?” This lunch is all about them. I don’t want to worry or bother either one of them with tales of my marriage woes when they’re about to take the plunge themselves, so I try to focus on Rose’s words.
“We were thinking of doing an international buffet for our cocktail hour. We would get the food from a bunch of local restaurants. I was just saying that this place could be a good option.” Rose smiles at me and pops an olive from the dip platter into her mouth.
“I think that sounds like a great idea.”
“And for the sit-down portion, we’re thinking of using the restaurant that Leon’s brother works at.”
I nod. Leon’s brother, Julian, is an amazing chef.
“Julian would be great for the job,” I say. “His rack of lamb is exquisite.”
“Didn’t you and Leon meet at a restaurant?” Evan asks, eggplant dip dripping off his thumb.
“You’ve been a slob since you were a kid, I swear.” I toss a napkin at my brother. “And no, not exactly. We met at a food truck festival.”
“Eh, same difference.”
“He was in front of me in line at a pastry truck and he bought their last cronut. When he realized I’d been wanting one too, he very kindly gave it to me,” I say, laughing as I think about Leon’s startled look when I’d cussed after hearing he’d snagged the last cronut—a cronut I’d stood in line for thirty minutes for.
