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She scoffed, chewing silently beside me before downing it with her drink.
“You sound like Ryan,” she grumbled. And for a second there, something reminded me that whatever this thing was between me and her, it could not progress further because of who her brother was. She must have felt the shift of the energy because when she lowered her soda she added, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Ryan was indeed a health-conscious bastard.” I flushed the memories of Ryan from my head before it could completely ruin my nice night with his sister.
“Yeah,” Reagan nodded. “He’d scold me when I take home junk food. So I stopped eating it completely.”
“When was the last time you ate McDonald’s?”
“I don’t know. But I remember eating some with Mom when she was still alive.” Sadness laced her words, but she let out a chuckle nonetheless.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Every memory I had with her was fun. There was never a bad day when she was still alive. Sometimes I do things that we did together just so I could remember her.”
“Is that why you decided to eat this tonight?”
She sighed, stretching her legs out beside mine on the pavement. I wanted to touch her, to console her. Instead, I finished my one last bite of burger before finishing my drink.
“Yeah.” She nodded, offering me her fries. God, this woman could eat. I grabbed one and bit it, savoring the fried potato. Two forbidden meals in one night. First Reagan, now this. “There was a McDonald’s near the building where I did my piano lessons when I was a kid. She’d take me there once a month as a treat.”
I hadn’t known Reagan’s mother. I didn’t even know she passed until Reagan told me the other day. Ryan wasn’t the type to talk about his family when we were still in college, and I wasn’t one to pry.
Just listening to Reagan told me that her mother’s passing caused a big strain on her family. And it made me wonder if maybe Reagan wouldn’t have gone through what she was going through right now if her mother had been there. Jesus. Maybe Ryan wouldn’t have stolen and cheated.
“Your mother would be proud of you, Reagan,” I pointed out. I watched her crumple the burger wrapper, then reached out, grabbing it from her. I collected the garbage and kept it in one of the empty McDonald’s paper bags. Then I watched her eat the nuggets.
I realized that there was something enjoyable about watching her fill herself up. She was happy when she was eating as long as she wasn’t hot and wasn’t paying for it.
“Regardless of what that Eloise girl told you, when I saw you play, anyone would be proud.”
“You liked it, huh,” she grinned, licking the remaining dip from the corner of her lips.
“I’m no piano expert but I’ve never seen someone play with that much emotion. I even think the crowd was watching you play more than they watched the couple dance.”
“Really?”
“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” Her cheeks heated up, and I didn’t know why I was telling her this. Maybe because I wanted to show her that somebody cared about the things she was passionate about? “Why do you think I was standing in the wing?”
“Because you’re creepy?” she joked and I chuckled.
Because I wanted to see you up close, I wanted to say.
“Because it was nearly impossible to play that perfectly. I thought you had set up your phone or something.”
She gasped at my words and then smacked me on the shoulders playfully.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. And it was. She could be on any stage and people would be in awe at her beauty and performance.
“Hurry up,” I said, and she popped the last nugget in her mouth. She put the container in the paper bag along with the wrappers and finished her drink.
Then I threw them all away in the nearest bin.
When I returned to the car, Reagan was waiting for me, a smile of contentment painted her face.
“All good?”
“All good.”
