AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There was a restaurant not far from the studio that had opened recently. It looked fancy without being pretentious, with clean white tablecloths and waiters in waistcoats.
“I’ll book it in,” I said, as I tucked both nipples in my pocket. “You go check on her.”
I waited until Adrian left to search for the restaurant and call them.
“Can I make a reservation for four?” I asked the cheerful-sounding person who answered the phone. “Tonight. As soon as possible. Thank you.”
* * *
Just like Adrian had said,Emma seemed miserable when I went upstairs. I could tell she’d been crying from the redness around her eyes, but she did her best to give me a smile.
She and Jackson had gotten into the scotch, and he poured me a glass while topping up his and Emma’s drinks.
“You’re not responsible for Helen’s cancer, you know,” I said, and Emma gave me a sad smile.
“I know. I just feel so powerless right now.” She held up the glass. “This is helping.”
“Yeah, well, best not to make a habit of it,” I said. “There are better ways of dealing with things.”
Jackson rolled his eyes.
“Don’t listen to this one. He’s a killjoy.”
He poured another glass for Adrian, who perched on the ottoman.
“Who’s going to drive?” he asked, as he swilled the liquid around.
“Drive?” Emma asked.
“We thought we’d take you out for dinner,” I said. “Something to cheer you up.”
“It’s okay, I can cook,” she said, gazing back at the kitchen. “I found a great recipe for chicken enchiladas.”
“Not tonight,” I said. “It’s your night off. My treat.”
Emma looked at me defiantly, like she was going to argue, but then she relaxed and nodded.
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s very sweet.”
We had another glass of scotch while we waited for the taxi, and by the time we were on our way to the restaurant, we were all more relaxed.
“That’s forty-three fifty,” the taxi driver said as he parked outside the restaurant and turned the meter off.
As I pulled out my wallet, a piece of fake skin fell out of my pocket.
I stuffed it back in before the others could see it, but the driver glimpsed the nipple and raised his eyebrow.
“Just something I’ve been working on,” I said, and gave him a larger than normal tip.
I was glad I’d booked a table — the restaurant was busy, and as far as I could tell, I’d snagged the last reservation. The food looked delicious, and I ordered pork ribs, while Emma ordered the chicken curry, Jackson ordered the risotto and Adrian asked for the steak.
And, because I wanted the night to feel celebratory, I asked for an expensive bottle of wine.
“Coming right up,” the waiter said, and poured us generous glasses of water to drink while we waited.
Even though Adrian and Jackson chatted happily about a movie that both of them wanted to watch, Emma was still quiet. I squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I promise.”
