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“I can’t believe she would even wait to see a doctor.”
“I know.” I shake my head. “It’s sometimes the biggest battle getting someone to go to a doctor to check things out.”
“I’m trying not to stress about it for her, but fuck, it’s kind of a shock.”
“It must be. I’m sorry, Taylor. I really hope the scans don’t show anything bad.”
“I guess we will have to wait and see.” He looks down at the food, picking up a fork.
“Ladies first?”
I tentatively pick up an oyster sitting on a bed of rock salt and a wedge of lemon.
“It’s been years since I’ve eaten oysters,” I confess.
He grins a little, putting some of the pan-fried oysters with the bourbon sauce and tartare onto his side plate. “I know, me too.”
I squeeze some lemon over the oyster and give it a little wiggle with my fork, aware he’s watching me the whole time.
Nothing intimidating.
I take the oyster up to my mouth and swallow it down while his eyes don’t move from my face.
The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Nice?” he asks.
“Perfect.”
He passes me over the plate of the entree so I can take some.
I take a bite and savor the flavors. It’s so, so good.
He eats his share from the side plate in about ten seconds, then reaches for a fresh oyster from the rock salt bed, and swills one down. “These are good,” he says, licking his lips as he watches me reach for another. “I forgot how good.”
He takes a sip of soda while he watches me eat again. I feel his eyes making my insides react with a sharp thrill as I eat another oyster.
It’s getting slightly easier with that razor-edged look he has going on. He looks thoughtful. There’s no doubt, but those blue eyes watching me so deeply make me off kilter.
I take a sip of my wine while he polishes off another oyster.
“I’m glad it’s all out in the open, at least,” I say, just as he’s reaching for a third.
He raises his eyebrow in question, squeezing lemon over it, holding it to his lips.
“You know with your mom, I assume she told you about the other stuff too…”
He swills the third one down and places the empty shell back on the rock salt. “What do you mean?” he asks.
“Umm, me and your Mom and that whole awkward thing that happened…” I trail off.Shit, does he even know about this? Did his mom still not say anything?
“What whole awkward thing?”
I take a large gulp of wine, knowing I may have just put my foot in something bad and I may not be able to get out of it.
He tilts his head to the side. “Emmerson?”
“Nothing.” I wave it off. “It was just something about the past. I thought she might have mentioned it, but it’s not a big deal.”
It’s all been going pretty well, my nerves are at bay, that’s probably largely thanks to the wine. But now they’re resurfacing with a vengeance.
