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“But we will have a bottle of your 2017 Goldeneye Pinot Noir.”
I nearly choked. That was a ninety-dollar bottle of wine… on a first date.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped the screen for half a second then put it away.
If this dude has to check his bank balance before he buys dinner...
Thirty seconds later, his phone rang.
Oh, hell no.
I leaned back in my chair, arms folded, and watched the expression on his face change as he listened to the words being spoken on the other end. I knew this game. I’d acted out this scenario a dozen times myself.
He ended the call, then tucked his phone back into his pocket. When he looked across the table at me, his eyes were apologetic. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”
I dropped my arms and sat up straight. The wooden legs of the chair scraped across the stained concrete floor. “Tell me you did not just do the fake friend call.” I pinned him with a glare.
“The what?”
I huffed a laugh of disbelief. The couple at the table next to us turned their heads at the sound. I twirled my finger in a circle, politely directing them to turn around and mind their own business.
“You know exactly what I mean. You send a quick 911 text and next thing you know, a friend calls with a sudden emergency.” I made air quotes aroundemergency.
“Kennedy, I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was a client, and he’s about to go to jail.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and placed a one-hundred-dollar bill on the table. “This is for the wine.”
“Call him.” My lips pulled into a thin line.
“What?”
I dipped my head in the direction of the pocket his phone was in. “Yourclient. Call him back.”
“Kennedy…” He shook his head, his eyes glancing around at the packed restaurant—and not the kind that served hot wings as appetizers. This was the real deal. Wine menu and all.
My voice was louder than I intended, and I should have been embarrassed for us both, but I wasn’t. I was mad, angry that the first date I actually wanted to end well was bailing on me with some bullshit excuse.
He stared at me as though I were going to change my mind. When I didn’t, he heaved a sigh and pulled out his phone. “John, it’s Theo—”
“Speaker,” I said, and he raised an eyebrow. I pointed at his phone. “Put him on speaker.”
By now, the couples on both sides of our table were openly staring at our interaction, and Hendrix had all but leaned back against the bar with a bucket of popcorn.Asshole.
Theo clicked the screen on his phone at the exact moment the piano guy finished his song. Suddenly our entire side of the restaurant was filled with the sound of blaring sirens and yelling.
Shit.
I was not just embarrassed. I was mortified. “Okay, I believe you. You can hang up now.”
“Theo?” A deep voice broke through the background noise.
Theo kept his gaze locked on mine. “Yeah. I was just calling to let you know I’m on my way.” Then he ended the call and tucked his phone away. “Are we good?” He waved his hand back and forth between us.
I wanted to crawl under the white linen tablecloth, lie in the fetal position, and rock myself to sleep. Unfortunately, the waiter chose that particular moment to show up with the wine.
“We’re good.” I unfolded and re-folded the napkin in my lap. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” He placed his napkin on the table as he stood. Then he kissed my forehead. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all. “I’ll call you later.”
He wouldn’t. He shouldn’t. If he had half a brain, he would delete my number, or better yet change my name in his phone to “should probably seek therapy.”
