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“You shouldn’t do that,” I said. “Friends don’t do that. They split the bill. Plus, you’d pay with what money? I’m the one who should be supporting us. If anything, if you found cash on the street, you should have bought back your cufflinks. Those could have sentimental value. Also, when do we order?”
“We don’t. They deliver a set menu.”
A set menu? No way could this place be in our price range.“No one has asked what I like. That seems…risky.”
“Morgan,” he said, drawing my gaze. His lips were deliciously quirked up a touch on the side.
Staring at his mouth made me lick my lips and created a warm buzz in my middle, a curious counterpoint to my anxious nerves. “Yes?”
“I found my car.”
“Ohmygosh, really? That’s amazing. How?”
“I happened upon it after one of my shoes broke.”
“Those yellow pieces of foam can hardly be called shoes,” I said.
He slipped a leg out to the side to show me his foot.
It had a regular shoe on it. Nothing fancy, but an actual dress shoe with laces and sides, and it wasn’t yellow. Had I really expected him to wear flip flops with a suit? I guess I had.
“Nice,” I said.
But then my brain started going faster. If he found his car, what else had he found?He found himself.
I recognized what was happening. This grand gesture—the dress, the dinner—was the beginning of the end. Even if he didn’t consciously realize what he was doing. We’d both known we were doomed from the start. I didn’t date. He had a whole life out there waiting for him. It was the same reason he’d stopped me from touching him when we’d been intimate.
It couldn’t be calculated. I knew him well enough to be sure of that. But, after I’d told him how I could never trust a rich guy, he’d taken me to the fanciest restaurant in existence.
He was preparing the both of us for the inevitable, for goodbye.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re pale.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said.
“You hate the shoes,” he said with a playful smile. “I don’t much care for them either. My last pair was much breezier.”
I chuckled, but it didn’t lighten the heavy weight pressing on my chest.
He reached across the table and touched my hand. Instantly I felt lighter, more grounded.
“How was the show?” he asked, slightly pulling his fingers back. “I was sorry to miss it today, but I was busy setting this up.”
“This is very nice. Thank you for the dress. It’s gorgeous.” I loved the dress, even though I knew better. I licked my lips. “The show was okay. Well, it was kinda brutal. I had to make a movie out of paper and fishing string.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How is anyone supposed to create cinema out of paper?”
“Right?” I grinned at him, trying to ignore the pinch in my stomach. “Well, I was up on the chopping block, but I made it out okay and Carla got sent home instead. It should have been me, but I’m glad it wasn’t. What about you? Your note said we were celebrating. What are we celebrating? You finding your car?”
“I found out my name, too,” he said. Then he held out his hand like he was waiting for me to shake it, like we were meeting for the first time.
I wanted to be happy for him, but my insides twisted and I couldn’t quite convince myself that this was good.
His hand was still extended.
I took it and we shook. His touch felt really nice, a sharp contrast to the somersaults happening in my stomach.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Oscar.”
