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“I was starting to wonder if you were coming back.”
Her head falls to her lap for a second before she throws it back, letting out a shuddering, agitated groan. “That was … weird, that was awful. That was … I’ve never …”
“So, I wasn’t wrong when I said he looked like a douchebag?”
Lainey unbuttons her coat, slipping it off her shoulders before draping it on the back of her chair. “I shouldn’t say anything. I’m sure there is a girl out there who shares his interests, but it isn’t me.”
I can’t help but watch her. Every move is delicate and graceful, even the way her dark hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders is smooth. I’ve never seen her wear it curled for work. She’s wearing more makeup than she does during the day, the perfect shade of red painted on her puffy lips, and I find myself jealous as hell that she got dressed up for some punk who isn’t deserving.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her earnestly, my voice a lot hoarser than expected.
She turns back to me, mouthing “thank you” so sweetly and softly I barely hear the words.
“And it’s okay to say he was an asshole. You don’t have to be nice to people that don’t deserve it.”
She exhales a heavy sigh. “Who am I to decide if someone is an asshole?”
I turn towards her, letting my knees nestle against hers. “I sat here all night and could tell from fifteen feet away that he was an asshole. He had a golden opportunity to spend his night with you and he wasted it. I’m guessing he spent it either blurting out passive-aggressive comments or bragging about himself.”
Her head tilts back as she giggles, the sound fucking heaven. “Okay,” she sighs loudly. “That was awful. I was so uncomfortable I wanted to rip my nails off for a distraction. And I’ll stay for one drink, but I am starving, so don’t be offended if I run out on you for a cheeseburger.”
The bartender comes over and I order another beer, making sure to grab a menu from the stack next to me and slide it over to Lainey.
“I’ll have a Pinot Grigio, please. And um …”
I stay mesmerized, watching the brown flecks in her green eyes peruse the menu. “I’ll have the fonduta, please.” She closes the booklet and slides it on the bar. The bartender looks at me, and I reach for the menu, opening it up again.
“Fonduta isn’t enough for someone who’s starving and pretending I’m a burger,” I tease, wanting her to order what she wants. I still haven’t figured out the basics of this girl. If she’s mad, she should say she’s mad. If she’s hungry, she should say she wants to eat. If her date is an arrogant prick, she should tell him to go fuck himself and not apologize for her actions. “Have you ever had polenta fries?”
She releases a small smile but shakes her head.
“We’ll have the Fonduta, the polenta fries, and … bruschetta.” I fold the menu and hand it back to the bartender, pausing to see if Lainey wants anything else.
“And a margherita pizza,” she whispers, the voice that was once frazzled and shy growing stronger with each word.
“And a margherita pizza, for the lady.”
~
“Oh my gosh, I needed this,” Lainey talks through a mouthful as she drags the last of the polenta fries through the red bell pepper salsa. “How have I lived my whole life without ever tasting a polenta fry?”
I stack the empty plates on top of one another, setting them aside to give us some space. “I’m surprised to hear they don’t have polenta fries where you grew up.”
She tilts her head to me as she swipes a napkin over her lips. “I’m not even sure you can buy polenta in my hometown.”
She takes a sip of wine, a look of full relaxation overtaking her, and fuck, does it look good. Her glass comes back to the bar, and she props an elbow on the wooden boards, turning toface me. “So, you said you were out with a friend tonight? A lady friend?”
“A lady friend? I do not haveladyfriends, Lainey. My buddy Jim was here. He’s an ER doc at Grace General. We met in med school and have been close ever since.”
She nods her head once, running the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, studying me, and I can almost see the next words forming in her head.
She clears her throat. “Is it weird if I ask you … when was the last time you’ve had arealrelationship, one that lasted more than a night? From what I gathered when you and Dr. Hendricks were having your little talk, you don’t seem like the relationship type.”
I take a breath and figure out how to word my answer. I’m not Dr. Hendricks, but I’m not the type of guy she probably wishes I was, either. I’ve never been ashamed of my past, my lifestyle, or my preferences, but for the first time in, well, ever, I wish I had more to offer someone.
Chapter Fifteen
Lainey
