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When I saw my arm hanging out there, and her looking down at it for a few seconds in confusion, I wished I could take the last few seconds back. I was showing my age in a big way, and I hated that. Luckily, she took it without saying anything, and we walked to the door.
“It’s one of my favorite spots, and since it’s close to the lab, I thought it would be the best option.”
“Thanks. I’m starving,” she said with a smile. “I love Italian food.”
One point for me. Things going well thus far.
As we got seated in a private booth, at my request, we ordered some drinks, and I let out a breath. This was the moment of truth. Were we going to talk about everything? Was I going to explain why I’d really asked her there? Honestly, I had never been so nervous in my life nor felt so scattered. Becoming a scientist had been like a life calling because I was naturally logical. But this side of me I didn’t like. I hadn’t been this nervous even when handing in my dissertation or taking important exams. I don’t think I ever cared so much about a person’s opinion before like I did Cassie’s. And we’d only met last week, for Christ’s sake! I worried I was going a little crazy.
“So, thanks for saying ‘yes’,” I said stupidly, and she sipped at her wine before chuckling.
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” She rolled her eyes, and I worried she was making fun, but then she looked back at me, and I saw she wasn’t.
There wasn’t any derision in her eyes.
“And maybe this seems weird to you, but I’m really happy you’re here.” I took my napkin and wiped my sweaty palms on it under the table.
Play it cool and casual. You’re the boss. You can do anything.
I straightened a little in my seat, but then I deflated once again when I realized this was crazy. I was trying to force a woman who clearly didn’t like me into thinking well of me. Because somehow, that would make up for all the shit in the past? That would make up for my bad marriages and the way Jason didn’t trust me?
“Me too,” Cassie said quickly, and I hit the pause button on my self-derision.
“Great.” The waiter came back then, and we ordered.
Now that the first hump of us getting to the restaurant and sitting together was over, I felt starved.
“I’m kind of surprised at what you ordered,” I said, smiling, hoping the frost would melt between us soon enough.
“Oh? Why?” I refilled her glass, and she whispered a ‘thanks’ to me.
“I don’t know. I kind of imagined you to be a vegetarian.”
“Really? Well, my friends would be shocked to hear you say that.” She laughed. “I do think it’s a good idea, but I can’t help but order meat at a really nice restaurant. And when delicious pasta comes with it, then I just cannot resist.”
She licked her bottom lip, before taking another sip of wine, and I watched the motion, mesmerized by it.
“So, you like pasta. Noted.” I spun the stem of my glass on the table.
“I mean, who doesn’t?” She shrugged, and I nodded.
“True. Gluten-free people, I guess?”
“They just can’t have it, and I feel very, very sorry for them. But then that means there is more pasta in the world for me.” She leaned forward excitedly as the waiter brought the first appetizer. “Dear God, what I wouldn’t do for fresh bruschetta,” she said softly, and it made my imagination run wild.
I saw this as my opening. “Cassie, I’m—really sorry about the awkward interruption in the office yesterday. From my son.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
Suddenly, it felt like goosebumps had lifted there, and I lifted my wine glass to my lips to calm the fresh onslaught of nerves and discomfort.
“Ah, right. Well, I have to admit it was shocking,” she said. “Seriously. I’m sorry I just ran out like that, but I didn’t really know what to do.” She was spinning the wine glass this time with her one hand while she reached for another piece of bruschetta.
“I get it. I honestly had no idea he would come to see me like that,” I said back.” We haven’t spoken in years, but maybe you know that already.” It was the best I could do to segue into learning more about her and Jason, and luckily, she didn’t seem that fazed by it.
“Yeah, I knew.” She dabbed at her lovely lips with her napkin, and then said, “But I promise I didn’t know who you were when I met you.”
Her cheeks colored, and I frowned. “What do you mean? I assumed you wouldn’t have. He likely never really spoke about me.”
“Well, I just—” she shifted in her seat and became increasingly interested in the pattern of the cloth napkin, tracing the pattern with a fingertip. “I didn’t want you to think I was like using you to get to him, you know? He broke up with me years ago, and I had no idea that I’d ever see him again. I wasn’t trying to get back with him by, you know, doing what I did with you.”
