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Her hair is scraped back into a ponytail, a few strands coming loose around her face. She’s wearing a navy blue tee that hugs her curves, along with dark jeans and a waitress apron wrapped around her hips. Hips I’ve held in my hands. Hips I could hold in my hands again, except I still haven’t called her. And it’s been five days since she gave me her number.
“Before the others show up, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
My gaze snaps to Eve.
She rubs her shiny lips together and smiles at me, the motion tremulous.
Is she nervous?
Her hair is down, flowing in waves around her face. She’s wearing a scoop-neck black top that shows a hint of cleavage.
My stomach drops to my toes. Did she dress up because she thought this was a date? No. We talked it out, months ago, and agreed to be friends.
Things have been normal between us... haven’t they?
“What is it?” I ask.
“I know you aren’t interested in a relationship, and I’m not either,” she rushes to explain, reaching over to rest her fingers lightly on my arm for a second. “I’m going back to school in a couple of months anyway, but I wanted to let you know—”
“Hi, Eve, hi Atticus. Thanks for waiting and sorry for the delay.” Taylor approaches the table with a strained smile, plucking a pen from behind her ear and holding a black notepad in front of her. “We have a great spring menu we’re offering tonight. There is a Mediterranean farro salad with seasonal veggies, fresh deli sandwiches, and a charcuterie appetizer with imported cheeses, artisan crackers, and fig jam that is to die for.”
“No burgers?” Eve asks.
Taylor winces. “The oven is out of commission, temporarily.”
“Oh, that’s bad luck,” Eve says, frowning.
Taylor sighs. “You’re telling me. This whole night has been a series of unfortunate events.”
“What happened?” I ask.
She blows out a breath and one of the loose strands of hair wafts up into the air in front of her face. “Daphne’s daughter broke her arm. She had to take her to Binghamton, Eddie is sick, Gloria was scheduled to be off for her anniversary, and I have no idea what is wrong with the oven.” She tucks the pen back behind her ear and rubs her temple.
“Do you need help with anything?”
Taylor smiles, the first real smile I’ve seen all night. “No. But thank you. Are you two ready to order?”
“Not yet. Waiting for the rest of our group.” I motion to the empty seats.
Taylor nods. “Can I start you with some drinks while you’re waiting?”
Is that relief in her gaze because Eve and I are not on a date alone, or is that just what I want to believe?
I can’t imagine the offer still stands since I’ve let the silence drag on too long. I don’t know how to tell her the truth of why I haven’t called, without sounding like a complete moron.
“I’ll take a water.”
After a second of thinking, Eve says, “I’ll have a dirty martini.”
Taylor nods. “I’ll come back when the rest of your people get here.”
“Thanks, Taylor,” I say.
She walks away with a wave, collecting dishes from an empty table and checking on other customers nearby. I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m completely absorbed by the way she weaves through the tables, her arms loaded with glasses and plates and yet she’s as graceful as a dancer.
“So anyway... Atticus?”
I tear my eyes away from Taylor to meet Eve’s questioning gaze.
