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“Whose dumb idea was that?”
I realized I was grinning ear-to-ear, but I couldn’t help it. Noah was sitting here, in a restaurant, cracking jokes and flirting with me.
Annabelle’s began to get busier. Anthony returned to take our order, but he hadn’t time to chat. Under the bustling noise and conversations, I heard my cell phone chime a text. I pulled it from my purse and checked it.
“Something wrong?” Noah asked after I stared at the message without saying anything.
“No, just my friend reminding me about a party this Friday.”
“Why do you sound like that’s bad news?”
“It’s a Juilliard party,” I answered. “Regina invites a bunch of musicians from our department to play TV show themes and musical drinking games. I used to go all the time, but I haven’t been to one since…um, since I took time off. But I sort of promised my best friend I’d go and now…”
Noah leaned over the table. “Why not go? Hang out with your friends…”
“Because they won’t want to just ‘hang out,’” I said, pricklier than I’d intended. “They’ll wonder why I won’t play, and hound me about it, and ask a bunch of questions I don’t really feel like answering.”
I thought Noah was going to hound me himself, but he only nodded thoughtfully and let the subject go.
Anthony returned with eggs Benedict and french toast. I watched Noah find the saltshaker, sniff it, set it down, pick up the pepper. He poured some into his palm, and when he had as much as he wanted, he brushed it over his food as if he’d been doing it like that for years.
My heart soared with joy that Noah seemed to be on the path toward acceptance. He wasn’t there yet—he still scowled and hunched his shoulders self-consciously when a bite of egg slipped away from his searching fork. And when someone in the kitchen dropped a huge tray of silverware onto the tile floor he swore like a sailor, flinching hard enough to slosh our coffees in their saucers. But he was trying, and I was overcome with pride.
When he had time, Anthony snuck in a bit of Annabelle gossip—the boss’s nephew had turned out to be a terrible waiter—and Clara came by again to flirt shamelessly with Noah. Then it was time to go. But we were taking our time. Being leisurely.
I sometimes wonder how different things would have been had we left Annabelle’s five minutes sooner.
“Holy shit!Noah Lake? NoahfuckingLake? Is that you?”
I turned to look—the entire restaurant turned to look—as a tall man with coppery curls, dressed in stylishly casual clothes, stopped at our table on his way out the door with two friends.
Noah cocked his head. “Deacon?”
“In the flesh!” The man nodded at his friends. “Hey, I’ll catch up.”
This guy, Deacon, stood over our table, hands on his hips, shaking his head from side to side. “I can’t fucking believe it. The dead have arisen! How the hell have you been? Oh, goddamn, they weren’t kidding! You’re still really fucking blind, aren’t you?”
Deacon waved his hand in front of Noah’s face, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.
“How’ve you been, Deacon?” Noah said, sounding strangely subdued. “It’s good to hear your voice, man.”
“I’ve been good. Really fucking good, as a matter of fact.”
Deacon asked to steal a chair from the next table. The couple hardly had a chance to reply before he took it and slid its back up against our table. He straddled his long legs on either side and rested his arms on the back, like he was settling in to stay awhile.
Deacon stared at Noah, still shaking his head. “Unreal. It’s been…what? Six months?”
“Just about,” Noah said. “Deacon McCormick, this is Charlotte Conroy—”
“Fuck me, where are my manners?” Deacon laughed. He turned to me, his eyes raking me up and down. I felt the trail of his gaze like slime on my skin. “Sweet Charlotte, a pleasure to meet you.”
He offered his hand. I reluctantly took it.
“You know Noah from the magazine?” I asked.
“Yes, indeed, and can I just tell you, in a business chock-full of crazy motherfuckers, this guy right here was the bat-shit craziest of us all!”
Deacon reached out and clapped his hand on Noah’s shoulder. I flinched and so did Noah, and I thought for sure he would toss Deacon on his ass. I sort of hoped he would. Deacon instantly and completely rubbed me the wrong way. But Noah only listened as his friend unspooled a story about them scuba diving in Australia and an encounter with a great white shark. A faint, pained smile ghosted over Noah’s lips as Deacon spoke.
